Dumb and Dumber crept into my psyche a long, long time ago. I remember watching it for the first time and wondering - WHY AM I SO DRUNK? Heh. Kidding. What I actually wondered was whether I appeared, to the naked eye, as completely changed, psychologically and in every other sense, as I felt. (For instance, I remain convinced to this day that I entered the theatre a virgin and came out a prostitute. Which either had nothing to do with the carnival-worker seated nearby, or EVERYTHING. Or just some things.
Stupid, talented carnival workers.)
So many good scenes. So boring listening to people recounting movie scenes. Unless you're high on horse tranquilizers. And I can only assume you are. (It's just safer that way.)
(Plus you'll probably feel more relaxed about things, knowing I know.)
(Because I certainly do.)
Alright, so there's this rad scene in Dumb and Dumber where Harry and Lloyd waltz into the big, lavish party?, where Lloyd's future girlfriend is partying and/or supporting the charity of her choice?, and they're wearing these disco-tuxedoes with ruffles and polyester and matching top hats?, and they look insane?, and it's KILLER, right?
YES. It / is / killer.
