On this occasion of supreme celluloid repugnancy, I will try to illustrate the pain, anguish and digestive distress brought on by Ashton Kutcher's latest by likening it to the following perilous journey:
Imagine yourself lounging in your movie seat, popcorn and Whoppers in hand, all juiced to see the funny guy from That 70's Show! You know, the always-smiling fellow who was pretty good hosting SNL and who happens to be dating the newly overhauled and somewhat frightening Demi Moore. (Too much with the big white teeth, Demi!) Just as the words My Boss's Daughter splash the screen, a trench coat-wearing man of medium height, arms flailing about, comes stumbling into your theater. The man smells like bacon and has an unidentified gelatinous substance in his hair. He stops near your seat, screams "You're not my daddy!" and starts rubbing his head in your face.
You run from the theater trying to rub the unidentified gelatinous substance from your eyes, your confused screams of fear and disgust piercing the night and scaring children. You trip on a bug, fly through the air and crash through the windshield of an off-duty policeman's car. The officer drops his Stuff magazine, pulls out his baton and beats you unconscious whilst screaming, "You're not my daddy!"
You are subsequently arrested and placed in a cell with an androgynous male named Nigel, who has a penchant for intense farting and an unwelcome tendency to wax poetic about tasty pears for 10 hours straight. Much to your alarm, he believes you are, in fact, his daddy, periodically interrupting his tasty pear story with heartfelt pleas for cuddle time.
Nestled in Nigel's arms, you somehow manage to fall asleep, even though he smells not unlike bacon. In your nightmare, you have been left to guard your boss' pet owl while his dumb-assed daughter, played by world's worst actress Tara Reid, goes out to party. During the course of the wacky evening, you are visited by thug actor Michael Madsen doing his best Robert Loggia impersonation, and he proceeds to urinate all over you and your boss' furniture.
The pain doesn't stop there, because you are then visited by shitty actress Molly Shannon, talk-show-sidekick-turned-shitty-actor Andy Richter, and your boss' female neighbor, who is hampered by a bleeding head wound. The neighbor carelessly smears brains all over your boss' furniture and onto a bag of Cheetos.
Ashton Kutcher threatens to piss on Michael Madsen, and then former Kids in the Hall guy Dave Foley actually does piss on Terrence Stamp (the vengeful Zod from the Superman movies). Somebody eats potted plant soil, the pet owl ingests cocaine-filled toilet water, and shitty actor Jeffrey Tambor kicks a guy in a wheelchair for whining about his handicap. (Writer's note: Everything in the past three paragraphs actually does happen in My Boss's Daughter, save for the part about falling asleep in Nigel's arms.)
Upon awakening, you find that Nigel has wet himself, quite the coincidence considering that Michael Madsen just pissed all over you in your dream. After your release from prison, you return home, head out to the woodshed and proceed to remove your left foot with a chewed-up pen cap. You hobble back to the house, find a bottle of A-1 steak sauce and pour it on the bloody stump.
Add up all of the mental, emotional and physical agony that has just been described, multiply it by 10, and know that My Boss's Daughter isn't quite as horrible as the resulting noxious cocktail. But it's pretty damn close!