I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU MATT & JOHN

So "I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry" opened in theaters this weekend and is now the #1 movie in America. This is bad news because the film looks like complete crap.

I've not seen the film, but it looks like two guys get married (I'm assuming in Massachusetts) to keep receiving health benefits or something. But these are two really manly guys so, you know, being gay is lame. So they mince about in public to keep the ruse up. But when nobody is looking, they prove how straight they are by burping and farting a lot and drooling over Jessica Biel's boobs.

If they really wanted to do the film right, they should have adhered to the first rule of the fake marriage genre: the people who pretend to be married discover that they actually are in love. Now that would be a daring comedy.

And what's more, this film doesn't look anything like my experience of pretending to be gay to cheat the system. I should explain.

It happened when I lived in LA. One of my best friends in town was a delightful gay Canadian named John. He had a high paying job working on the Tonight Show. I was unemployed and living in a garage. We met when I interviewed for a job. I didn't get hired, but John and I became good friends.

One Saturday afternoon, John called:

"Hey Matt, want to go to Disneyland?"

"You know I can't afford that."

"Of course you can't afford that. I'm paying, but I'll need your help with something."

He arrived about 30 minutes later and explained further.

"Here's the thing, Matt: every employee at Disney is a big old screaming queen." (apparenly he's allowed to say that)

"I didn't know that, but I guess it makes sense."

"So I need you as eye candy." (what with my rugged Stone Phillips looks)

"I don't get it."

"When the ride operators see us together, they'll assume we're 'together' and they'll let us cut in line."

"Shut up!"

"No, really, it works. It's like a secret club."

"Do you really think they'll believe I'm gay?"

"Every last one of my friends think you're gay, so I'm pretty sure the folks at Disney will, too."

"And they're going to let us cut in line?"

"Oh yeah."

So we arrive at the Happiest Place on Earth™ and get into the Indiana Jones line. We weave our way through the line's many caverns until we reach a place where the Head Line Guy (not sure what the actual title is) can see us. He gets on his tiptoes, points to us, and waves us forward. I couldn't believe it.

At the Matterhorn, a man came and opened a special gate that directed us straight to the next available train. Amazing. I had never seen anything like this.

Then we hit Space Mountain and learned the limits of the Disney Gay Underground. A girl was running the line. Humf! We pouted as we actually had to wait in the entire line.

With the excepion of that one incident, my day at Disneyland was filled with the kind of VIP treatment usually reserved for heads of state or those kids who are dying. A good time was had by all. (And I didn't even have to put out!)

A much better time, it would seem, than spending 2 hours watching "I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry."