So... We're Pretty Much All Fucked, Then?

Being from Brooklyn, I'm pretty skeptical by nature (I'm not entirely sure what one has to do with the other, but let's roll with it), so this whole "Mayan-end-of-the-world Theory" hasn't exactly left me a quivering mess. I'm usually pretty calm about this stuff, unless it involves wild turkeys, or sock monkeys.

What a dick.

Lately though, there have been some impending signals that I just can't seem to ignore. For example, being based out of Southern California as of recently, I can't help but notice the swarm of mini-quakes that have frequented the West Coast over the past few months. They've apparently even gone further into the country, spreading like my legs in the presence of a British accent (hey, if the world is going to end, I may as well go out enjoying myself).

Also, this year saw the demise of R.E.M. and to a lesser extent, Jet, as well as the tragic passing of Beastie Boys' MCA, Michael Clarke Duncan, Phyllis Diller, Tony Scott, Sally Ride, Neil Armstrong and Ray Bradbury. Not to mention, on the same day Neil Armstrong died, Snooki gave birth to what I'm pretty sure will grow up to be the Smoke Monster from Lost.

Is this some weird Rosemary's Baby-type shit?
Because if so I am OUT.

Another tell-tale sign of the Apocalypse- these people are still alive:

Also this asshole. And he owns a Batmobile. A fucking Batmobile.

So not only am I processing all this crazy shit and trying to figure out who gets my Ryan Gosling Blu-Rays in the aftermath (Ginntastic), but then I wake up this morning to this insane fuckery from Uproxx:

http://www.uproxx.com/tv/2012/09/everybody-panic-here-is-a-two-headed-snake/

WHAT.

OK, so I thought of three things when I first saw this:

1) How does this snake take a shit?
B) How long until this is a SyFy Channel movie, and how awesome will it be?
COBRA COMMANDER) HOLYFUCKINGHELL A TWO-HEADED SNAKE MGHSVDFDJDISDCHDGVSDCDKCHJDB OH MY GOD EVERYBODY DIE. What if there's like, a High Council of two-headed snakes, like a Legion of Doom, that has meetings and stuff, trying to take over the Earth?

What the fuck, Mother Nature? Who told you this was OK? Why would you do this? Why? WHY?

I hate you. I hate you so, so much. You are one sick bitch.

Although +5 to the parents that named their kid Preston Logan. I may be dating myself (and we all know that's the only dating I'm actually taking part in), but any Bill and Ted reference is a win in my book.

What Happens In Vegas Should Always, ALWAYS Stay In Vegas: Part The Second

I know, it's been a couple of weeks since I delivered the first part of this Unexpected Journey. Pretend like you give a shit. I would have posted earlier but my computer literally committed suicide and the hard drive decided to crash after less than a year. The external that Apple "provided" me with (for 100 of my hard-earned dollars) didn't work and I lost all my data, so I had to download everything all over again. I still hate you, Apple. So, so much.

At any rate, I fixed everything, and now I'm back, and ready to go. And I apologize for that mid-90's reference. I'm really old.

If you remember what happened in my last entry, good for you! Or, I'm sorry. If not, you can refer to Part the First through this handy link. Basically the story begins with me meeting a guy in Vegas, actually thinking that he might not be a complete tool, and turning out to be very, very wrong, as usual. Enjoy.

Part the Second picks up on my couch, where I was actually dumb enough to sit, on my ass, on a SATURDAY NIGHT, and wait for this asshole to show up at my apartment after his friends informed me that he would like to plead his case. I can't believe that I did this myself, so don't bother telling me what a complete idiot I was.

At least I had the good sense to exchange hate texts with Coyote Tits. My favorite was the one about how she would get her dogs to bite him repeatedly.

Look at these little faces! 

The next morning, after my roommate came home and went down a list of various detailed humiliation techniques that somehow all ended in ice cream, I realized that it was definitely time to cut this douchebag and everyone associated with him out of my life for good. At this rate, the only way that The Bug could get me to even entertain the notion of being in the same room with him (without a tire iron) would be to:

1) Purchase a private island for myself and three friends of my choosing (the lottery draw begins now);

B) Become Superman and use his powers of time travel to erase the last few months and therefore all remnants of his dumbass behavioral tactics;

SNOW LEOPARD) Learn the lost art of calligraphy, hand-write a detailed, formal letter of apology and have it delivered via adorable puppy (bonus if this letter arrives tied to a Nestle's Crunch bar);

I accept.

DD) Sit through every Ryan Gosling movie ever made and allow me to point out exactly what all the characters are doing correctly and how he himself has, in fact, managed to fuck himself over time and again. This includes stomping some dude in an elevator.

God, that's hot. Again, I question my own moral fiber.

I was also getting really irritated with the way his friends would constantly text me asking to crash at my place when they went out near my apartment, even when I wasn't with them. This was made even more obnoxious when I received another phone message from The Bug, using someone else's phone, not even acknowledging the fact that he stood me up and suggesting we meet up for sex later. In his defense, he did suggest dinner first. Probably at Chick-Fil-A or some other romantic four-star eatery with paper wine cups and vomit on the tables.

I'd had enough of this bullshit. I called the number back and demanded an explanation for the week prior, and I was informed, by another party, naturally, because The Bug is a total pussy and afraid to talk to me in person, that we don't have a "relationship."

What a complete load of fucking crap. I don't care if you're my boyfriend, my friend or my brother- if you make plans with me, I expect you to show up. And if you have to break them, there's this new invention called a phone. Here's a picture, in case you're unfamiliar:

Also, here's the definition of courtesy, since you've clearly never heard of that either:

This is where he reached the winning trifecta of having my roommate, my two best friends and my mother all detest him, which is a feat not accomplished since The Supervillain. Congratulations; that's like, the Lottery of Hate!

I really, REALLY wanted to tell this asshat to go fuck himself in person, so I told whoever was on the phone that I would speak to him if he would talk to me, himself, while sober. The reply I received?

"He says OK."

HAHAHAHAHA! Seriously, all you can do is laugh. Anyway, I haven't heard from him since, not like I would answer if he called. I canceled plans with his friends, who were pretty mad that they had lost their crash pad and parking spot, and they haven't gotten in touch with me since then, either. My girls all offered to be a bitch for me, but they're all really not worth my energy. I'd much rather focus my efforts on much more important things, like blogging, or the new season of Breaking Bad, or calling out sick to work.

YEEEEEES.

Anyway, so there's the end of that. I wish I could tell you guys that I told him straight-up to go drive off a bridge, but seeing as how I deleted his number months ago, sadly, I never got that opportunity. I will say, however, that this entire spectacle has finally inspired Tits and myself to start that dating blog that we've going back and forth on Facebook chat about for the last six months. It's in Blogger Drafts right now, so we've actually taken that first small step for (wo)mankind. Look for it really soon- I promise it will be as horrifying yet hilarious as you imagine.

What Happens In Vegas Should Always, ALWAYS Stay In Vegas: Part The First

I know I don't usually post about dating in That Ain't Kosher, but to be honest, that's because I've pretty much forgotten what dating is. All my female friends are appalled by the lack of penis in my social life, but that's nice for them because they're not the ones who actually have to hit on me. I never know when I'm being flirted with and basically have the romantic skills of a frustrated fourteen year old boy- when I went to NOLA with Sara she let me know that when it came to dudes checking me out I was "borderline retarded." She's married, so she must know what she's talking about.

I took this advice to heart when my friends and I went to Vegas for the Superbowl and I actually noticed when some Van Wilder, Alpha-Kappa-Whatever-looking motherfucker glanced in my general direction. After about twenty minutes of intoxicated conversation I found out that he lived about an hour away from me in SoCal and that he was with a bunch of dudes. We wound up watching the game with said friends and I managed to get him to change his bet from the Pats to the Giants. HAHA! Sad Tom Brady FTW! Also, score one for my bank account.

I hung out with Van Wilder (shortened to "VW," or simply, "The Bug") and his boys for a couple of days, and by "hanging out" I mean, um, stuff hung out. Of our clothes. There was a lot of tequila, yo. And a taxi, if I remember correctly. A taxi in which we did things. And after these things I got dropped off at my hotel, and invited him up to my room, and I don't think he got the gist of what I was implying, because The Bug went back to his room alone and I wound up back in mine. With more tequila.

Later I was informed that the cab driver had called him a "fucking idiot." I mean, The Bug was ridiculously hammered (which I soon learned is pretty much his natural state), but when a girl is practically doing a striptease in your lap and invites you up to her hotel room, you fucking do it. Hell, when a girl is practically doing a striptease in your lap and invites you to discuss the Higgs boson with her, you fucking do it. You can admit that you don't know what that is later, when you're manhandling her boobs like you're controlling the Enterprise.

Actually, a lot of men have gone here before.
And not that boldly, either.

In my defense, I never actually expected this to go anywhere past the slot machines. When was the last time anyone ever said, "I met my husband/wife/future deductible in Vegas?"

Oh. Except for those times that people get wasted in chapels and shit.

Anyway, about a week after we were both settled in our respective living spaces, The Bug actually texted me. He and his friends, who were cool as shit BTW, were going to the Laker game about twenty minutes from me that weekend, and if I was free, were down to hang out. Yeah. I bet. They also wanted to stay over, since the drive back was really far, but hey, I was feeling generous. And tequila-y.

So basically, we all got pretty smashed again, and uh, yeah. Shit happens. They left the next day, and I figured that was that, but we actually corresponded pretty steadily. Yeah. "Corresponded." I also hung with his friends a lot, too. Like I said, cool as shit.

So this went on for a few weeks until one night when I got a call from him. He was already an hour late and when I picked up the phone he was in jail. JAIL. He had been biking to my place, too drunk to drive, and gotten a BUI. Classy. There were some muffled sounds and then he hung up, and I spent the next few days trying to get in touch with him. I even got sent to voice mail.

Oh, fuck no. FUCK NO. Delete.

I immediately called everyone I've ever met since I was ten years old to bitch to them, and spent the rest of the night on my lesbian neighbor's couch watching shitty re-runs of American Idol.

Also, did I mention that this assclown is 25 years old? Throughout this entire hilarious (?) chronicle, the Nipclique kept sending me emails that looked like this:

About a week passed of me completely losing my shit, and then I got a text from his friend. He informed me that a few days ago, The Bug had had a family emergency (he sent me photographic evidence, lest I thought this was a classic case of dudes sucking each other's dicks to cover for each other), and that eventually, I will get a phone call and to hang tight. I'm not supposed to know anything though, so "keep this on the DL."

So, armed with this new information, I waited. For about a month. His friends were still awesome, so we kept hitting up bars and such. I also received periodic information on this clown- such as, "he really likes you, but he's dealing with a bunch of bullshit right now." Meaning, "he's a pussy and he's too scared to call you." Then, one evening I was home, probably watching the SyFy Channel or some crap, and I got a text. From his friend. Saying that The Bug is now "feeling better and 'down to fuck.'"

People like this actually exist. Like, in reality. I could not make this up if I tried. I responded that that was eloquent as fuck, and I would be right over. Then I called like, eight of my friends.

I'm aware that I should have cut this entire group out of my life by now. Just go with the story.

Another week passed, and his group was in town for a birthday party. The Bug, of course, did not accompany them. However, I did get an apology from the guy who Cyrano'd that romantic proposition from before, claiming that The Bug, is, in fact, an idiot. FYI, girls: when the members of a guy's own crew use the word "idiot" to describe him, that is WAY MORE than a red flag- you have now hit Defcon 1.

I received a request- through a third party, of course- for a meet-up that weekend. Supposedly The Bug would be coming back from the airport and wanted to discuss how badly he had fucked up. He didn't even plan on staying over (right), and he said that even if I hated him, he would settle for "being friends."

So of course, being the stunning, dynamic intellectual that I am, I SAID YES, and you can probably all guess how that turned out.

This is getting super long and possibly very annoying, so I'll divide this into Parts 1 and 2. If it's seriously that suspenseful, I guess you can read the next half of this thrilling saga when I post it in a couple of days. Or whenever I stop being lazy and finish writing it.

SPOILER: I'm currently still single.

WHAT IN THE FUCK.

Occasionally, because I hate myself, I look at videos like this one that I found on Topless Robot:



Seriously, who comes up with this shit? This is the most truly terrifying glimpse into the future I've ever experienced in my life. All of you who made fun of me for being afraid of Teddy Ruxpin now know what the fuck I was talking about.

This is worse than if Justin Bieber got elected President.

BRB, going to kill myself.

I'll Probably Die Alone. NBD.

My attention span blows today, so while I was supposed to be creating documents for work, I decided to screw around on the Internetz. There's this one website I always go to, Pajiba.com, because it's an excellent source of pop culture headlines, shirtless Ryan Gosling pics and general snarkiness.

 Actually, I should probably watch my surfing in case I get fired. Oh haaaai Employee of the Month.

Anyway, I'm constantly on Pajiba because they post a whole bunch of shit that's either current (movie/TV news), thought-provoking (promising actors that have since lost their relevancy) or include more sarcasm and witty commentary than an early episode of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.



But sometimes, there's paranoia-inducing, mind-blowing shit like the crap you see here.

The worst offender is Dustin, who's always writing about shit I definitely should not be subjecting my inner child to on a daily basis. I should have learned my lesson back in November when I clicked on a link for a commercial that he had dubbed awkward enough to cause arousal, yet also fear. I was so consumed with similar conflicting emotions that I decided to write a post on this anomaly and share it with the world. Um, you're welcome?

Last night, he posted this, which I made the mistake of clicking on right before bed:

http://www.pajiba.com/seriously_random_lists/its-midnight-on-the-east-coast-here-are-10-serene-cinematic-images-to-help-you-sleep-peacefully-tonight-.php

Do not be misled by the angelic title. This will fuck you up.

You'd think that would be enough to convince me to stay away, but I am an idiot. Dustin's newest article was seemingly a progress report on the post-Harry Potter career of actor Daniel Radcliffe, so I figured there was nothing that could possibly cause me to lose any sleep or to send me to any kind of soundproof, padded room. Well, guess again. Instead it contained a trailer for his new movie:




A few weeks ago I made a promise to a few of my friends that I would finally check out the Harry Potter franchise, seeing as how I had never read any of the books or seen any of the films.

Yeah, no. That's not happening.

Dolls are terrifying. Look at their faces. They're waiting for me to die so they can steal my soul and that's how people go to Hell. Unless of course the clapping monkeys kill you first. That's how they roll, yo. None of this "inanimate object" BS. Don't be fooled.

I can't be the only one who is probably going to be really fucked up by this trailer. Who writes shit like this? Who walks around thinking this is OK? What the- no. Just no.

I hate you so much.

Oh, Canada! *FACEPALM*

This weekend was my last chance to party in NYC before I head out to Hell-A for work. In order to give me a proper burial that included one final taste of Ray's Pizza, Hurricane came out for the funeral procession. We decided to leave my mark on as many Manhattan neighborhoods as we could manage, until we either passed out from lack of sleep/too much alcohol or collapsed due to the 118 degree (!) heat index. Unfortunately, that bitch Mother Nature had also altered her plans to revolve around me, and, with a combination of my immediate departure, the scorching temperature and my debilitating "physical problems" I wasn't exactly looking for my next Captain America, ifyougetwhatimsayin.

Such is my life.

Since guys never notice that I'm alive and I rarely get hit on, I figured this probably wasn't going to be an issue.

Hurricane and I chose our first destination mainly due to the fact that the wind chill had dipped to a frigid 98 degrees and we were basically looking for somewhere- anywhere- where the doors closed all the way. As soon as we stepped inside, we got accosted by some a-hole in a business shirt. That's almost as bad as Ed Hardy as far as bar outfits go, BTW. After I had entertained this jerkoff for no more than five minutes he "suggested" that I accompany him back to his apartment.

He actually said to me, "I'll be honest, I want to hook up with you." I told him that it was pretty obvious, as from ten feet away he probably wasn't attracted to my scintillating personality. He then advised that we skip the usual conversation and date part. What an incredible asshole.

I politely turned him down and he asked me to "explain my logic." Dbag. I said that I wasn't going to go home with a guy I just met five minutes ago and he immediately went into some philosophical rant about how that's not a good reason because

1) I can Google him and find out that he's not a serial killer and

2) he would be totally open to having some kind of friendship/relationship afterward.

I told him I didn't want to see him afterward, let alone right now, and also judging from this conversation he probably had body parts in his closet. He also said he detected some kind of "physical attraction," unless he was off. I replied that he was off. He added that I hadn't told him to fuck off yet, so I "obviously felt something." I told him I feel like I'm interested in this conversation because I find it hilarious and I want to see where else he's trying to go with this. I also wanted to know, BTW, who wrote his scripts.

PS- I should have told him that he was about to "feel" my knee in his crotch. I always think of the best shit when it's too late!

Then he told me that he would be the best hook-up I ever had. I laughed in his face. I told him that the fact that I said no 800 times and he's still harassing me is enough to get me to never go anywhere with him, ever, except the nearest precinct. Also I admit the that I kept the conversation going partially so I could be a total bitch.

Then, just when I thought I was safe, he countered with, "here's what we should do. Hook up." I proclaimed that here's what I should do- then I grabbed Hurricane, put our drinks on a table, and exited stage right. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him make a beeline for another, even younger girl who I almost thought about saving but I decided not to push it since I was already in the clear.

After that we decided to stick to places I had previously gotten loaded at and may have already made out with somebody already knew and loved. We chose one of the West Village music venues and this time it was Hurricane's turn to meet some guy who, while decidedly pretty cute, was not taking the RealFeel all that great, while I agreed to play wingwoman. I talked to this dude's friend for a while before I realized he was a total creeper. After a while he started yelling that he just HAD to see me again and he offered to give me a job at his company to get me to stay in NYC. I was terrified that he was going to offer to marry me. I was almost ready to smash my glass on the ground just so I could stab myself with one of the shards until I happened to look to my left for some assistance and realized that Hurricane's future alimony check had a much hotter friend OH HAAAAI.

As it turned out, dude turned out to be from Toronto, which I could tell immediately because he actually said "ABOOT" and "EH." HAHAHAHAHA! That is amazing! (PS, Tabs- I asked him if he knew you and he said no. If he wasn't a total Canada stereotype I would have assumed he was lying because everyone knows you.)

Despite the fact that he looked almost EXACTLY like Peyton Manning but way hotter and with a decidedly more perfect nose, Canadian Bacon of course was a hockey fan , so we traded barbs about the Rangers vs. the Leafs. As a Blue Jays fan, he also harbored a disdain for the Yankees (sorry, Tits), so I decided right there that I was going to bear his perfect 6'3 children.

Seriously, imagine our genetic mashup.

He asked for my number within five minutes and I felt kind of bad because this other dude was watching but hey, you snooze, you lose. It's not my fault that this guy implemented the MAC System.

Creeper Dude turned out to be a pussy that admitted defeat by just going home without saying goodbye or anything, so the rest of us- Hurricane, Sweatstack,  Bacon and myself- went for late night mac and cheese. After a couple of hours, Hurricane and the Stack were heavily making out on some bench while I silently cursed my own bodily functions. 

Hurricane had to get up super-early for work the next morning, so Bacon and I decided to hang out. Over the course of the night he had dropped hints that I was welcome to come back to his apartment, and I almost cried because STUPID STUPID PERIOD. When he finally asked me straight out to come home with him I made moving-related excuses because I was NOT telling some dude I just met about my womanly issues. It may have seemed kind of ballsy on his part to assume that I would just up and fuck him when I had known him for like, three hours; however, at this point we had already made out in the middle of the street and almost gotten hit by a car twice. So, uh, yeah. One can't exactly blame a guy for "going there."

Before you guys get all judge-y and shit keep in mind that again, I rarely get hit on and have not gotten any action in like three months AND there was vodka involved. I am usually not this big of a whore.

Anyway:

I did kind of like this guy and besides, his Canadian accent was hysterical and he let me make fun of him, and I didn't want to be that girl- you know, the girl that lets a guy grope her in the street and then is like, "Well, thanks for doing awesome shit with your hands there. See ya!" So I decided to come clean (Ha. Ha ha.) and tell him,  "look, I wasn't going to say anything but I'm having girl issues. Like, GIRL ISSUES." After some minimal blinking, he figured out what I meant and basically told me he was cool with it if I was, and we could do "other stuff." Works for me! Let's get a cab!

NYC Cab Driver and Elevator Personnel- if you are reading this, I apologize. That is all.

The last time I was in a guy's apartment, he acted like a total pussy and pretended that he hadn't invited me there for a session of deep railing (no, I don't want a snack, just take off your damn pants already) so I was seriously impressed by how Bacon did not waste ANY TIME. He didn't offer me a drink or anything, he just turned off the bedroom light, picked me up and like, practically threw me on the bed (that shit hurts, yo. I'm small and frail. Like a Smurf).

Come on, now. That shit ain't right.

Sidenote: his boxers said "Canada" on them. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

What I did not appreciate is how he kept telling me that there would be a "next time" and that he would pay me for me to fly back to New York whenever I wanted. I once hooked up with this guy I thought was my friend and I was expecting nothing else- just a fun night that could possibly (but probably not) lead to some interesting, sporadic hookups. The guy had the tendency (and by "tendency" I mean "constantly") to treat women like doggy chew toys, so I didn't even want it go any further. Then he totally ruined everything by declaring his "feelings" for me and spouting off a whole bunch of other shit that I knew wasn't true (he admitted it later), and basically treated me like all the little 20-year-olds that follow him around and actually believe that they're going to be his wife or something. It wasn't what he said that pissed me off, it was the fact that he said it. BTW, I did confront him about this and we no longer speak. Guys, seriously- not every girl needs you to fall in love with them. Some of us really just want to acquire a booty call or- try not to fall over- really do want what you refer to as a "hookup." Get over it.

Anyway, back to the Bacon. We had already come to the mutual agreement that we weren't going to do what he had previously referred to as EVERYTHING, although things were getting pretty hot (dude is a dirty talker, which I have to admit was making me curse my girly problems even more). What made it even worse for both of us is the fact that he had an immaculate bedroom and white sheets. We got as far as we possibly could without actually going as far as we possibly could. Bacon got a little stingy when it came to the give-and-take; like, we already knew I wasn't going to get any; but he expected me to do everything (and I mean everything) else? I think emphatically not. I wasn't that much of a hard-ass, but all his begging made it even worse and I almost walked out. Oh, also: what I got WAS pretty good, but the constant self-accolades were seriously annoying. I don't need a "preview," I get it. You're awesome. Let's move on.

Here's where the night got weird: My gross menstrual state left a lot to the imagination (hey, I was ABSOLUTELY willing; but I definitely understood his issues). I get that. Why, though, when he was totally willing to, ahem, make good use of his hands, was he so adamant about the no-sex clause? Wouldn't that be like, less disgusting? Was it a no-sheets thing? I don't know. That was totally bizarre. Has this ever happened to you guys?  I'd really appreciate some insight here because I am seriously confused.

Oh, Canada. Thanks for tarnishing my final memory of my home and native land.

At least I have a hilarious story to blog about. 

SMAC: ASSHOLES EDITION

You guys are in for a very special edition of SMAC this month. I was actually going to skip the July movie reviews altogether, seeing as how I've been going through some incredibly overwhelming shit (more on that at a later date) and I've also been letting my Childhood Trauma posts pile up. I sent out an email that let everyone know that SMAC was a no-go for July, and we would pick up again next month.

And then. AND. THEN. I found out a few days ago that Season of the Witch had come out on DVD. I had waiting for this since the day it had been released in theaters and was met with a 0% on Rotten Tomatoes. Its final score was a 7%, which I had been warned by Sara Nips that it didn't even deserve. I was intrigued. I must see this movie.

My genius plan was to have the July theme of SMAC be "Season of the Witch," where we all watch the movie and review it for someone else's blog. We already did a Nic Cage-themed 'ring back in April, and it was so mentally damaging that I swore I would never watch another one of his movies ever again, but seriously, this one deserves a post of its very own.

Unfortunately for me, no one else was willing to take one for the team. I figured that at the very least, my girls in the Nip Clique would be the wingwomen- you know, the friends that hook up with the ugly guy so you can have quality sexytimes with the totally hot piece of ass you picked up at the bar, only to discover that he's dumb as a fucking stump and/or secretly a leprechaun? Not that that's ever happened to me. On either side. However, apparently this movie is so bad, so heinously awful that even my best bloggy friends were like, "hell, no!" and left me to suffer through the torturous twenty minutes that I got through. Thanks a lot. And you guys all claim love.

Basically, here's what I got from the time that I spent (actually) watching Season of the Witch: There's some chick that everyone thinks is a witch, and the other characters have to bring her to some village. That's about it. We don't learn her name, although I suspect that's because even the fictional character was embarrassed to be part of this movie and chose not to reveal who she actually was. Ron Perlman was in this movie, BTW- Ron Perlman! I sincerely hope his performance in this pile of shit doesn't scare you guys away from ever watching Sons of Anarchy or either of the Hellboy films, because both of those (especially SOA) are pretty substantial and if you haven't experienced them yet, you should.

The costumes and props are pretty hilarious; the whole thing reminded me of when I used to play Oregon Trail. Honestly, I would have welcomed the dysentery at that point- it would have given me an excuse to get away from the movie.

Also, in the spirit of the NCH scale, what is UP with this dude's hair? I absolutely give this one a category all its own. I don't even... what the fuck.

At least go to a SuperCuts, in the name of all that doesn't suck!

In the twenty minutes (actually, 18.75) I spent wondering how Nicolas Cage ever earned an Academy Award, I really did attempt to make it to the end. As the creator of SMAC, I really hate to let you guys down, but I couldn't do this to myself anymore. I've finally found the one film that defeated me; the one that even I couldn't get all the way through. I thought it couldn't be done, ever. That is quite the accomplishment- congratulations, Season of the Witch.

I am officially mad at all of you for forcing me to go through this misery by myself. No more sexual favors (and don't think you can get away with hiding in my treehouse, Lor- I've briefed him on the situation and he knows what's up).

You guys owe me. Huge.

AURAL SEX: FEBRUARY 2011 EDITION

Hello. I've waited here for you.

Everlong.

For someone who makes a point to ignore Valentine's Day I've really been showing it some love lately. It was the theme of last week's Movie Review Blogring and now it's being acknowledged again in this month's Aural Sex.

To commemorate the annual V-Day, I've decided to compile a list of the best and worst tracks that reminded me of the holiday. I know no one likes doing the dirty work on Valentine's Day, so I've done it for you. Isn't that nice of me? Yeah, it's mostly because I'm single with no prospects. Let's not bring that up.

Special thanks to Bad Monkey and the 20sb crew for sitting with me for hours (literally) to assist me with this.

SONGS WITH "LOVE" IN THE TITLE THAT MAKE ME STABBY:


MAROON 5- SHE WILL BE LOVED (released 2004)

I can watch this on mute because the dude is kinda hot. But the song is awful. Remember that Family Guy episode where Meg's boyfriend gives her a Maroon 5 CD because she likes "terrible music?"

Yeah.

NELSON- (CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOUR) LOVE AND AFFECTION (released 1990)

OK, I actually used to LOVE Nelson when  I was like, six and didn't understand that they were horrible. But this is just bad.

I actually went to see them in concert once and my brother, who had better taste in music than I did even then, waited in the car.

EMINEM f. RIHANNA- LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE (released 2010)

This song is so irritating because everybody seems to love it. All my friends posted the video all over Facebook, so even though I was trying desperately to avoid it, there it was. Over and over (and over) again.

Eminem is not a lyrical genius, like everyone seems to believe. I've mentioned before how much I can't stand him, and since this video has Megan Fox, it bothers me even more. He needs to take a Motrin and lie down, or something. That's what works for me three days a month.

311- LOVESONG (released 2004)

311 massacred The Cure for an equally shitty movie. Anyone who bought this soundtrack should be destroyed at the stake.

FOREIGNER- I WANT TO KNOW WHAT LOVE IS (released 1984)

This is a tune for stalkers who sit in driveways of girls they've never met, drinking a fifth of Jack while carving names into their arms and crying. If this song comes up on the radio you should immediately shut it off and listen to... I dunno, not Foreigner.

TAYLOR SWIFT- LOVE STORY (released 2008)

What is the huge deal about Taylor Swift? Seriously, she sounds like everybody else (AND I heard she doesn't write her own music, which is disturbing because her lyrics sound like they came from the brain of a 12-year-old).

Also, her head is giant. It's way too big for her shoulders and she looks like a bobblehead.

It's really distracting.

DONNA LEWIS- I LOVE YOU ALWAYS FOREVER (released 1996)

Thanks to Lily for this one (Featured Blogger for February, yo!). I hadn't thought about this song in years but when she mentioned it I realized she was totally right. It's insipid and agitating, and this bitch's voice is really high. This definitely belongs on the list.

THE CARDIGANS- LOVEFOOL (released 1996)

I actually kind of like this song, but it's one of those that gets classified as an "earworm"- it's impossible to get out of your head for days. Therefore it is annoying, and lands on the list. Props to Nips for helping me out with this one.

HANSON- WHERE'S THE LOVE? (released 1997)

This takes me back to when I was in junior high and all my friends were obsessed with Hanson and all their stupid songs. I was never interested in them or anything they did, and this is no exception.

Dislike.

JUSTIN BIEBER f. USHER- SOMEBODY TO LOVE (released 2010)

I just hate this kid so much. I would like to see him horribly killed.

I don't think I'm alone in this.

Oh, PS- I wasn't even sure if Bieber had any songs with the word love in the title, since I make it a point to avoid him at all costs, but I really wanted an excuse to include him on any list where I discuss things that I hate. So basically I thought, "yeah, probably," and just typed "Bieber" and "love" into iTunes, and came up with this shit that I didn't even bother to listen to.


SONGS WITH THE WORD "LOVE" IN THE TITLE THAT EVEN I CAN ENJOY:

JOURNEY- SEND HER MY LOVE (released 1983)

The guitar solo is killer.

STONE TEMPLE PILOTS- INTERSTATE LOVE SONG (released 1994)

This is the only STP song that I'm really into, and if you think about it, Weiland probably wrote it while he was on heroin. What does that say about me?

QUEEN- SOMEBODY TO LOVE (released 1976)

Listening to any Queen song is like listening to a rock opera. Freddie Mercury's vocal stylings are astounding. If I could do this song any justice at all I would rock this in the shower.

Also, how many times do you think someone tried to download this classic masterpiece and was subjected to the Bieber decimation instead? I don't even want to consider that.

THE OUTFIELD- YOUR LOVE (released 1986)

Who doesn't love this song? Even if you don't know you know it, you do, and you wreck that shit every time it's performed by your favorite local cover band.

CREAM- SUNSHINE OF YOUR LOVE (released 1968)

If you play it at top volume, it usually makes you feel like you're high even when you haven't smoked anything. Trust me on this.

TEARS FOR FEARS- SOWING THE SEEDS OF LOVE (released 1989)

Tears For Fears incorporates some of the best shit I've heard in a while, and this album came out decades ago. There's a mix of the regular guitars, drums and vocals but they have horns in it too, and the song itself clocks in at just over six minutes. The experience is pretty epic. Do yourself a favor.

U2- PRIDE (IN THE NAME OF LOVE) (released 1984)

One of the only times a history lesson didn't bore the piss out of me.

THE WHITE STRIPES- FELL IN LOVE WITH A GIRL (released 2002)

If the awesome Michel Gondry-directed music video featuring LEGOS!!!! isn't enough to convince you, maybe the 1:50 running time will.



If not that, perhaps the epic guitar kick in the beginning will draw you in.

If you still can't appreciate this masterpiece of musical artistry, well, I'm shit out of ideas.

THE BEATLES- ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE (released 1967)

What an inspiring message from what is arguably the most influential band of all time. "All you need is love..." or cheesecake, your call.


LED ZEPPELIN I couldn't choose between the two, so I kept them both. Yeah, I'm a cheater.

The Zep wrote the two most important songs with "love" in the title. EVER. Even when they're singing about love, it sounds like a penis metaphor. Actually, it probably is. Plant and Page is the all-time best on-stage combination, no argument necessary. Here are my choices for the top of this list.

WHOLE LOTTA LOVE (released 1969)

ALL MY LOVE (released 1979)

MOST OBNOXIOUS SONGS WITH "HEART" IN THE TITLE:


HILARY DUFF- BEAT OF MY HEART (released 2005)

To be fair, I've never actually bothered to listen to this song. But it is Hilary Duff, so I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that it most likely sucks.

BACKSTREET BOYS- I'LL NEVER BREAK YOUR HEART (released 1995)

I used to secretly be into this song, but I've now come to terms with the fact that my taste in music in junior high is an embarrassment to my adult life. This is atrocious, and the video is laughable.

BILLY RAY CYRUS- ACHY BREAKY HEART (released 1992)

Not only was this horrible, but it was ubiquitous when it first came out. This dude is also responsible for unleashing Miley Cyrus onto this Earth, so there's also that.

I do enjoy ridiculing this guy's mullet, though. I mean, just look at it:

That is glorious.

N SYNC- TEARIN' UP MY HEART (released 1998)

I always detested N Sync. I know there's kind of a running pop theme to Aural Sex this month, but God was this horrendous.

EXTREME- HOLE-HEARTED (released 1990)

Look at that smug look on this asshole's face.

Fuck you, man. You ruined Van Halen.

BRITNEY SPEARS- FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY BROKEN HEART (released 1999)

I realize that Britney Spears was only a kid when this album came out, but no one should be allowed to write lyrics that dumb. She also released a video to this that was really irritating, where she sat in a tree all wistful and shit.

Oh look, here's a screen shot:

Ugh. FAIL.

TONI BRAXTON- UN-BREAK MY HEART (released 1996)

A bunch of my friends suggested this one, so on the list it goes.

ELTON JOHN/KIKI DEE- DON'T GO BREAKING MY HEART (released 1976)

The beginning is really stupid. It kind of sounds like the accompanying track to kittens pouncing around a table with toy mice, or something.

CELINE DION- MY HEART WILL GO ON (released 1997)

Oy, lord.

Granted, I played this shit out when I was like 14 and the movie was released. (Spoiler alert, guys: THE BOAT SINKS!) However, I realize now that Titanic is just a really long, albeit well-crafted, chick flick, and that "My Heart Will Go On" should, in fact, not go on. I can acknowledge Celine's operatic ability to thump her chest a lot and warble about huge yachts and cinematic power couples, but sucks for her, I am not a kid anymore and my musical tastes have substantially changed.

Goodbye, Titanic. I'm done with you and your cloying theme song forever.

MILEY CYRUS- MY HEART BEATS FOR LOVE (released 2010)

As opposed to beating for what? Being a four-year-old whore?


MOST KICK-ASS SONGS WITH "HEART" IN THE TITLE:

THE STROKES- HEART IN A CAGE (released 2006)

The Strokes are awesome, and this song is pretty catchy.

DEEE-LITE- GROOVE IS IN THE HEART (released 1990)

Fuck you guys. I like this song. It's fun to dance to.

BLONDIE- HEART OF GLASS (released 1979)

Blondie is one of the classic punk bands from the 70's New York music scene, and this is one of their best.

OASIS- STOP CRYING YOUR HEART OUT (released 2002)

When Oasis isn't busy hitting each other in the face with bottles, they write beautiful poetry set to some electrifying guitar chords. Here's an example.

MOTLEY CRUE- KICKSTART MY HEART (released 1989)

Technically, this song is probably about drugs. It still gets me going on the stationary bike, though.

NIRVANA- HEART SHAPED BOX (released 1993)

Being a kid in the grunge era, Nirvana pretty much shaped my musical upbringing. This is one of their most substantial efforts.

THE BEATLES- SGT. PEPPER'S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND (released 1967)

Like I wouldn't put this on the list? Just to try to argue.

OWNER OF A LONELY HEART- YES (released 1983)

Yes is pretty cool. I'm usually not into prog rock, but they do some interesting shit with organs in this piece.

JANIS JOPLIN- PIECE OF MY HEART (released 1968)

This is one of my favorite songs of all time. Janis Joplin's voice is so iconic, and I may do this for my next KROD vid. IF I felt that I wouldn't fuck it up.

Probably not, though.


DUDE IN OLD SCHOOL- TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART (2003)



Come on. You know you guys were thinking this, too.

And just for you, here's a list of the most played songs on my iPod about relationships (for better or worse).


NUGS' SEXYTIMES PLAYLIST:

A-HA- TAKE ON ME (released 1985)

For the four of you that haven't seen this video, it's a classic.



THE BANGLES- ETERNAL FLAME (released 1989)

CAKE- I WILL SURVIVE (released 1996)

ELVIS COSTELLO- ALISON (released 1977)

One of my absolute favorites. I'm actually naming my daughter Alison after this song. If I can find someone unfortunate enough to impregnate me.

FOO FIGHTERS- EVERLONG (released 1997)

GARBAGE- SPECIAL (released 1998)

Bonus- this is also my KROD song. You'll see it later when I make a complete ass of myself.

HEART- ALONE (released 1987)

JOURNEY- SEPARATE WAYS (released 1983)

The video for this is ridiculous. Enjoy.

LADY GAGA- BAD ROMANCE (released 2009)

MOBY- WHY DOES MY HEART FEEL SO BAD? (released 1999)

NO DOUBT- SUNDAY MORNING (released 1997)

OFF WITH THEIR HEADS- FUCK THIS, I'M OUT (released 2008)

PAUL MCCARTNEY- MAYBE I'M AMAZED (released 1970)

QUEEN- ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST (released 1980)

RADIOHEAD- JUST (released 1995)

RISE AGAINST- AUDIENCE OF ONE (released 2009)

ROLLING STONES- (I CAN'T GET NO) SATISFACTION (released 1965)

SHINY TOY GUNS- RAINY MONDAY (released 2008)

SMASHING PUMPKINS- AVA ADORE (released 1998)

SOCIAL DISTORTION- UNTITLED (released 1996)

SOFT CELL- TAINTED LOVE (released 1982)

TOM PETTY/STEVIE NICKS- STOP DRAGGIN' MY HEART AROUND (released 1981)

WHITESNAKE- HERE I GO AGAIN (released 1982)

Can anyone listen to this WITHOUT thinking of Old School?

THE YARDBIRDS- FOR YOUR LOVE (released 1965)

ZERO 7- DESTINY (released 2001)

So, uh, Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. Make sure you get lots of candy, and stuff like that. And for some of you, I'll be outside your window, waiting for you to come home (you know who you are). <3<3<3

Oh, PS- I finally broke down and did this month's Karaoke Ring of Death. My video is as mortifying as one may expect. It'll be up later this week for you to taunt for decades to come.