I don’t care who knows it.

31 Comments read Reviews, TV

‘Lost’ SUCKS.

THERE, I SAID IT.

Amy has been renting all of the past seasons from Netflix and I’ve watched it on and off, or I hear it in the background while I’m screwing around on Al Gore’s InterTrucks. I tried to give it a chance. I tried. But I hate it.

HAAAAAAAAAAAATE it. I thought the show was merely ok until they introduced ‘the others’, and then my indifference turned into flat-out, full bore, all-systems-go hate. Oh hi, we’re mysterious people on the island for mysterious purpose, and we have a shitton of supplies (that we don’t believe in sharing) and some sort of stupid hidden agenda because the writers needed some more spooky bad guys in case the (ooooooooo!) smoke monster and random horses and polar bears weren’t spooky enough. Also, a complete medical facility, and all manner of electronics that are powered by….? Hamsters?

Introducing more people from the plane as they’re needed? HATE. “Oh, hi, I just happen to be a science teacher at the exact moment you needed someone to tell you about science! My name is Deus. Deus Ex Machina!”

Everyone having sordid backgrounds? HATE. I know a lot of people. A LOT. And not one murderer. Weeeellll, ok, one. But only incidentally because my roommate was dating him. 40 people survive a plane crash and most all of them have killed someone, either on purpose or by accident? Seriously?

Why do people think this show is so brilliant? I just don’t get it. It seems to me like the writers have been careening around, fairly lost themselves.

THERE, I SAID IT.

I EAT BABIES

70 Comments read Everything is Terrible

I have now officially entered the point in my life where my friends are having babies, as evidenced by the not one, but TWO baby showers I attended on Saturday, and the several more over the last month that I was unable to attend and a couple MORE over the next month that I’m totally going to skip out on (SHHHHHHHHHHHHH). It’s not that I don’t love my friends. It’s not that I’m not happy for them. It’s just….how much time do you think YOU can devote to ‘ooohing’ and ‘aaaahing’ over tiny clothes? Take that number and divide it by five, and that’s about my level of baby tolerance.

Plus, this is exactly the sort of idiocy I hate contending with:

Really? Diapers for a baby at Babies R Us? You’re shitting me.

And the HENS who attend those showers, all broody and clucking and bawking about all sorts of things no decent person cares to hear about, like their scrapbooking fetishes and intimate details about their sex lives, bearing in mind, of course, that you’ve never MET THEM BEFORE and, OH YEAH, NEVER ASKED THEM ABOUT THOSE THINGS.

So, what I’m going to need from at least five friends is a sworn affadavit stating that they do not intend to have children, for, say, at least five more years. Notarization is appreciated but not required.

I, _________, do hereby swear to remain baby-free for a period extending to at least five years hence, because my friend Melissa is totally a selfish you-know-what and doesn’t want to share me. I am aware of how babies are made and understand the necessary precautions. I further understand that if I HAVE a baby during this five year period, I am not to ask ‘auntie’ Melissa to baby-sit, for the safety of both her and the baby.

Signed on the ______ day of _______, ______

__________________

What Is The Worst Thing You Got?

18 Comments read Reviews

I’ve been sifting through the music on my computer recently, listening to things I haven’t listened to in a long time, when I happened upon a gem of a song, something that is clearly, irrevocably, The Worst Thing I Got*. This is coming from someone who owns an Ed Wood box set. Who can glean moments of enjoyment from both House of the Dead and Manos: Hands of Fate. Believe me when I say this song tops all of those things.

I’m fairly certain I acquired this song through IRC, with the sender informing me that it was a GREAT song. I doubt I even listened to it once. Now, through a sense of duty to hilarity, I’m not certain it’s possible for me to delete it.

It starts with a man unironically reading perhaps the worst poem of all time, and then segueing into gutteral screams, followed by more awful poetry with vague racist undertones, some gothic gloom and doom and at that point, you still have not reached the very best part, as the very best part is where he starts passionately shouting color names. PURPLE!!!!!!!!!! BLUE!!!!!!!!!

I give you this, The Worst Thing I Got. Make certain to listen to it in a place where you will not feel compelled to restrain your laughter, as you will give yourself a hernia.

The Worst Thing I Got.

What’s The Worst Thing *You* Got?

*See: Achewood