In the middle of a Books-A-Million, I crouched down and started snapping photos of an allegedly straight man’s magazine I found. Forgive me, I don’t remember what the man-azine was called, but you wouldn’t either if you saw this:
Here we have a nice young man who appears to be modeling underwear while working out and simultaneously stuffing Pizza Hut condiment packets into his Hugo Boss briefs. Seems sensible enough.
I feel like there’s some sort of innuendo here, but I just can’t quite put my chopstick on it…
I’m sick. Since I’ve been sick, I’ve been watching plenty of TV, which means plenty of commercials. So, it is with great disgust that I give you the Worst Commercials of 2010:
1. Those F*CKING OLD NAVY MANNEQUIN COMMERCIALS: I hate these commercials with a burning passion. I really hate the one where they’re suddenly naked (um, ‘scuze me, Old Navy, but aren’t you supposed to be family friendly?), but there’s one I hate even more than that mannequin nudiefest. It’s the most recent addition to the abomination ads, the faux sitcom one where the creepy, lifeless-eyed mannequins move into a house together and are greeted by their flesh-and-blood real human neighbors. There’s a laugh track. I hate laugh tracks. Except for this one. My biggest beef with this commercial lies within the total lack of reality. No, I’m not talking about how mannequins gained the ability to talk and sign a lease. We all knew it was bound to happen at some point, as Wes Craven pointed out in his scariest movie ever, Mannequin. I’m talking about how mannequins from different racial backgrounds managed to live in harmony within one house. The only way this situation is plausible is if they were on The Real World: Mannequins. As far as I know, The Real World doesn’t have a laugh track, so Old Navy has no excuse for this horrible, terrible, disgusting, appalling, atrocious, frightening, deplorable series of commercials.
Some things in life are really f*cking creepy, but no one seems to notice. They’re everyday, innocent-looking little things. Why aren’t more people creeped out by these? Because of the government, of course. I’m going to tell you what they won’t about the following creepy objects:
Bobble Heads: You get a bobble head for your desk at work. At first, your bobble head seems like your friend, nodding “yes” to everything you say, providing a listening ear. But as your relationship grows, you realize it nods “yes” to things like, “I forgot to turn in my expense report– I’m such an idiot!”, “Do I look fat today?”, and “Have you been talking shit about me?”. As it turns out, the bobble head you thought was your BFFF is actually your best frenemy and a social climber. The bobble head relocates to someone else’s desk and nods “yes” while that person points at you and snickers. What a bastard of a bobble head. Just when you get over feeling hurt, you work late one night and see that the bobble head is on your desk, watching you, constantly nodding. Every time you look away and look back at it, it’s inched closer to you. Finally, it bobs one last “yes” and attacks you with a chainsaw. (more…)
With the slew of horrendous summer movies finally coming to a close, we can all breathe easier and willingly walk into movie theaters again. But do you even need to go to the theater to get action-packed, thrilling, romantic, glorious cinematic content? No ma’amsir, you do not. Go to Blockbuster and rent everything on my newest list: movies that are often overlooked despite their poignant and outstanding cinematic content:
1. White Chicks: Two down-and-out FBI CSI CIA NYPD black men have to protect two young, spoiled, blonde white women. After inevitably getting into a steamy affair with the girls, the men ponder life, love, and discover religion. Through their physical intimacy, they lead the girls on an emotional journey and teach them how to appreciate the little things in life, like sex. Since one of the men is married, and has discovered religion (what religion? All the religions!) since consummating his affair, he feels deeply guilty for betraying his wife and begins a long trek home, disguised as the white woman he plowed. This is obviously because he feels the need to literally show the world what he’s done, and the easiest way to do that is by cross-dressing and cross-ethnicitying. His fellow law enforcement black friend joins him on his journey, also disguised as the woman he slept with, to repent with him for betraying his own wife, who doesn’t exist, since he’s not married. This movie is a journey of journeys, about journey, with the entire soundtrack consisting of Journey.
Last Saturday was my brother’s high school homecoming, which made me a bit nostalgic, so I helped pick out things to put on his date’s mum… but I didn’t know what I had contributed to. The finished product was terrifyingly huge. Cute, but huge.
My brother’s date’s mum looked like it weighed more than she did. Since they’re juniors, it was a triple mum, because apparently nowadays it’s improper to give a single mum to anyone other than a freshman. That means every year, your mum cost goes up! Yay!
On top of lights, whistles, glitter, and teddy bears, this year, the hot new mum accessory was speakers. I’m being completely serious. There was a mum with an auxiliary input so people could plug in their iPods. What’s the point of that? You can’t play music during class, and I imagine wearing speakers around on your boobs would get pretty heavy. (more…)
Update: I am a douchebag. The Pretty Black Chains did not open for BRMC at the Dallas HOB show. They don’t have 15 guitarists that whip people with their Rapunzel-length hair, and from the sampler I heard on their Myspace, they’re pretty good– the opposite of the band I was originally referring to. I don’t know who the band was that opened for BRMC in Dallas this past March, and it seems no one on the internet knows either. They’re ghosts, maybe? Anyway, The Pretty Black Chains, please accept my sincerest apology for my inaccurate and rude blog post. You guys are definitely not the band I was thinking of. Again, I’m sorry.
I’ve compiled a list of disgusting band names. Keep in mind that this list is not a reflection on the quality of the band’s music, just their horrible names.
Limp Bizkit: First of all, what does a correctly spelled “limp biscuit” even mean? If you don’t know, consult Urban Dictionary and prepare to barf out all your innards. Seriously, why would anyone name anything after that?! “Hey, we’re so badass that we’re gonna name our band after a super gay ‘game’, even though we’re sort of homophobes. And we’re gonna spell ‘biscuit’ wrong! Awesome.”
In the spirit of the popular twitter feed whose name I ripped off of when creating my blog, I thought I’d provide you with some phrases from my very own dear ol’ dad. Here’s a small dictionary of his phrases:
“German Abortion”: One’s wife’s dying Mercedes convertible.
“The Slime That Slime Would Spit On”: An asshole who drives recklessly or cuts one off in rush hour traffic.
Used in a sentence: “You’re slime! No, you’re the slime that slime would spit on!”
“D-E-D Dead”: The traditional meaning of the word “dead”, but spelled aloud incorrectly.
“Retard School”: An imaginary school where stupid people go and are treated like those with intellectual disabilities. In this school, the students are required to wear helmets at all times.