"Breaker, breaker, what's your bikini?"
It's... something... uh....
(*Thirty minutes later after manipulating my penis until it becomes hard and then using that erection to masturbate with and ejaculating copious quantities of semen.*)
Annnd we're back. What were we talking about? Oh, right, we were talking about was how BORING young folk are. Damn kids. I mean, look at them. How do they expect to finish a spreadsheet or calculate actuarial tables this way??
"I love Hegelian dialectics in a Lacanian self-image paradox of the Other! Whooo!"
"Douche coming through. Make way, folks!"
"Hey, you want to Hegelian my dialectic, if you know what I mean? (I don't know what I mean.)"
Since plot is for squares, this movie proudly has none. Girls wear bikinis, they meet James Franco, they go to a party that keeps repeating itself, repeating itself, the girls wear bikinis, some hardcore gangstas leer at Justin Bieber (or his gf, I get them mixed up), the girls wear bikinis, they get arrested for disorderly bikini conduct, it's spring break y'all, drugs are sampled, penises shoot out candy stars, the girls wear bikinis, dubstep plays real loud, James Franco fellates some guns, the girls wear bikinis, they go on a bikini crime spree in their bikinis.... And it was a movie!
"This bikini trial is now in session!"
This actually made me wish he was hosting the Oscars. With Billy Crystal. Yes, that bad.