The 5 Worst Christmas Songs Ever

Anyone with a functioning soul will tell you that Christmas music is the absolute worst.  Every year, starting in fucking September nowadays, the world is bombarded with a nonstop hail of bullshit pouring over the airwaves and robbing us of anything resembling holiday cheer within the first eight seconds of listening.  Yet deep within this ocean of suck lie a few chosen songs that go above and beyond the call of shitty.  Songs whose mere existence is enough to make people hurl themselves off bridges and write shitty blogs about them.  These are those songs.  You have been warned.

Someone Gets Naked

So I've bought a shitload of  video games recently.  And by "Shitload" I mean three, which is three more than I have any reasonable need to buy.  It's been a bountiful harvest for games this fall, and wouldn't you know it, I'm still not very good at any of them.  I have no business buying or playing any game that isn't Mario Kart for the Wii (my eternal dominance at this game has yet to be matched by man or machine), but I do it anyway, and then I feel really bad about it because I've got 60 less dollars to spend on hamburgers and candy.  Oh, and I also write half-assed blogs about it too:

No-Call List

Herman Cain called my house yesterday.  He sounded pretty concerned about my future, even had an ominous bell tolling in the background.  I thought maybe he was hanging out with The Undertaker.  Or maybe he just really likes that one Smashing Pumpkins song.  Turns out, he's a terrible listener.  Anytime I tried to ask him a question, he just kept going on and on about how important it was that I vote for him in the upcoming election.  I honestly thought we were having those next year, but maybe I'm wrong, he seemed very serious.  The conversation was very one-sided, and when he was done he just hung up without letting me say goodbye.  To be completely honest, I think he's kind of an asshole.  I mean really, you call my house and you won't even let me get a word in edgewise?  Bad form dude, bad form.  At least Rick Perry had the decency to thank me when he was done talking over all of my questions.  I wonder how they expect anyone to vote when they have zero phone etiquette like that.  I don't even vote at all, especially not for phone dicks who waste my time.  I always thought talking to robots hell-bent on driving the world straight to shit would be at least a little cool, turns out it's just kind of annoying, especially during Sunday dinner. So when the Hermanator calls your house blasting his theme music for the Royal Rumble, or when Rick Perry tries to sing you some showtunes or whatever other ridiculous shit they try to do to buy your vote, you should probably hang up, because they're only there to talk at you, not to you.  But save their numbers, so you can call them later at three in the morning and make loud fart noises or something awesome like that.  Maybe then they'll listen.

On a Speedboat with Don Johnson

Generally speaking, I don't like music reviews.  These days they mostly consist of some asshole name-dropping a thousand bands you've never heard of in order to describe an album you probably haven't heard yet.  Most of them are just annoying exercises in musical dick-waving to show just how much shitty music the reviewer listens to, and rarely have anything to do with the music being reviewed.  So I am hesitant to write a music review, as I am probably going to end up doing the exact same things I just complained about.  But I'll give it a shot anyway, if only to stroke my own already fragile ego.

It's Never Sunny in Arkham City...

I know I should probably leave the game reviews to this guy, but I got my grubby little fingers on a copy of  Batman: Arkham City and I thought I should really tell someone about how much ass it kicks.  The game delivers near-lethal doses of badass at all times, and the only reason I'm typing this right now instead of playing the game is because my heart literally can't take any more face smashing action for the next few hours, lest I drop into a coma like so many of Batman's powerless victims.

The Thing About The Thing

As a general rule, I tend to believe that there have been no good ideas for movies since the 80's.  Time traveling cars, teenage werewolves, Death Wish 3, and Judd Nelson's entire career are just a few examples I use to illustrate my point.  The 80's was a decade long ass kicking roller coaster where men were men, America always came out on top, and nobody gave two shits about the damage that was done in the pursuit of those two ideals.  And so it saddens my poor weak heart when Hollywood tries to recapture that long lost magic, and ultimately ruins it by adding Jar-Jar Binks or Shia Labeouf to the mix.  When I heard that they were remaking John Carpenter's behemoth of badass, The Thing, I was understandably skeptical, especially since it was a prequel, and therefore lacked the sizable advantage of having Kurt Russell swearing and beating things to death with his bare hands.  But, cautiously optimistic, I went into the theater hoping that just this once, Hollywood would pull through and surprise me.  Lucky for me (but more so for them), they did.
 

It's Not For Women

So Dr. Pepper just dropped a new soda flavor.  And by "new", I mean a slightly worse version of the original, but in a shinier new package.  Some of you may have seen the commercial for it on TV, which despite the rampant sexism and misogyny, is actually pretty funny.  Sorry feminists, Lasers trump feelings ten times out of ten.  Here it is, in case you haven't seen it:

The Fall Classic

Sweet mother of Satan, McDonald's Monopoly is back!  As I passed by my local hamburger dispensary, my heart soared to see that familiar round-headed, monocle and top-hat wearing saint emblazoned across the windows, beckoning me once again to eat as much ill-prepared fast food and flat soda as my little heart can take.  Which, as it turns out, is actually quite a bit.

Sub-Par

So they finally got rid of that terrible Hogi Yogi. Thank God.  I've never been angrier at a sandwich in my life.  Whenever I ate at Hogi Yogi, I felt like I had been insulted on a personal level, as though the sandwich somehow offended my grandmother's honor.  That is the level of disgusting we were forced to deal with for far too long here at UVU, and an injustice that will hopefully be righted by an actual sandwich store, Subway.  I decided to try it out, as many others already have, though I felt this Subway had more to live up to than it's standalone brethren, as this newcomer also needed to heal the deep wounds inflicted by its evil predecessor.  Can these sandwiches stand up and overcome the brutal sandwich history that we've had to suffer through all these years?

They finally gave 'Shouting' a TV series

Flipping through the channels the other day, I came to rest on a commercial for a series on A&E entitled, Beyond Scared Straight.  The commercial showed several different shots of little a-hole kids getting yelled at by hardened criminals and the guards sworn to protect us from them, though it appears just this once they're letting that slide a bit.  There were kids crying, angry black dudes, hair pulling, tattoos and threats of serious physical and emotional injury.  This sounded like perhaps the best show ever made.  I quickly changed the station to A&E, and to my great fortune, there was a whole marathon going on!  Homework and responsible adulthood were going to have to take a rain check (as if they haven't already been doing that my entire "adult" life) because today, there were more pressing matters at hand.

         This woman has a tattoo beard.  Fighting and Yelling are the only things on her to-do list today

Failure Is Not An Option

Ah Wal-Mart, such a beautiful mess of savings and cellulite.  It's a shame such a fantastic establishment has taken on such a bad reputation in recent years, as some of my favorite impulse buys have taken place here, along with more than a few near-stabbings.  One of my favorite sweet-deal hotspots has always been the Five Dollar Movie Bin.  This mountain of plastic failure houses some of the worst, and therefore best movies ever made, and always draws me in to find a night's worth of entertainment at a criminally low price.  Today was indeed a special day, as I managed to unearth the holy relic that is "The Substitute" 4-pack.  Whoever made these movies is a genius.  Whoever made them so cheap, a saint.

Track 1

I buy a lot of useless crap.  A LOT of useless crap.  Most of it without even really thinking about it.  I own the season 4 box set of Ninja Turtles, for no reason at all.  I spent fifteen dollars on a burger king mask once. I have a Zune.  I consistently make poor spending decisions.  But rather than curb these bad habits, I've decided to start a blog in which I embrace them, until they inevitably bankrupt me.  And somehow this is supposed to teach me something about myself or the world.  **Spoiler Alert: it probably won't**
     Basically, here's how it's supposed to work:  I see an advertisement for a product, whether it be a commercial, online ad, billboard, whatever, and I try it out.  It could be something cool, it will probably be something ridiculous, and it will hopefully be something worth reading about.  All that matters is that the product is advertised somehow, somewhere, regardless of whether or not I even want it.  So hopefully this will prove entertaining or informative or both, and I hope you all find amusement in my downward spiral into credit card debt.