Ugh. Country Strong opens today.

I can’t think of a movie premise—Gwyneth Paltrow doing a Faith Hill impression and being asked to sit through country music as well—I detest more. Talk about throwing up in my own underwear.  Even Gnomeo and Juliet offers more promise. Have I seen Country Strong? No.

I’m happy being closed minded. I live a good life. In this epic era of the craptacular you have to be closed minded, it’s self-preservation. The trailer was painful, I could barely sit through it so I’m not going to sacrifice money or two hours. I suppose I could use that time to teach shut-ins the alphabet or return overdue library books.

Or write 6 equally painful experiences I’d rather undergo than sit through Country Strong.

1) Lead the charge to bring back Parachute Pants but now, this time for the modern housewife. How could you not want to vacuum in Parachute Pants?

2) Be cast as the lead in the 6 week Broadway engagement of Priscilla Queen of the Desert. And I can’t sing or dance, what a drag.

3) Travel through time and space in a hot tub time machine back to Winterfest 86. Great White Buffalo.

4) Get punched in the nuts by Superman.

5) Strapped into the Clockwork Orange chair, eyes forced open and be subjected to the tv series Designing Women. Yeah: all 7 seasons. (I shuddered just writing that).

6) Play Risk with Eva Mendes. If I let her win I’m not a man, if she wins I’m not a man and even if we play she’s never gonna talk to me again. She’ll probably arrange for Number 4 if I suggest this to her.

So yeah: Country Strong qualifies as an oxymoron. And I? I am not.

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Also published on Medium.