Does Snooki have a calzone in the oven?

"I can totally store breast milk in here!"

Rumors are swirling that reality star, perfume spokesperson and all-around female role model Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi is pregnant with her first child... or at least the first one that was crafty enough to get past her daily banana and Plan B smoothie. So for a moment let's just ignore the implications of this somehow qualifying as national news (looking more and more like the Mayans were right), and just consider the possible repercussions of a Snooki pregnancy:

- The question of "Who is the fawtha?" makes for a ratings record-setting, 6-hour long, greatest fucking episode of "Maury" EVER.

- Next season, the gang bands together to convert the "Smush Room" into a nursery.

- When an ultrasound shows the baby is upside down in the womb, expert doctors use a baker's shovel to delicately reposition it.

- The baby makes a classic Jersey Shore entrance when it falls out on the dance floor after some guy punches Snooki in the head.

- Lil' Snooki becomes the face of a new line of Jersey Shore baby food, which includes flavors like Tequila Sunrise, Pureed Meatball, and Hangover Blocker.

Get Motivated (you worthless shit)!

It's time to get the hell up and do something with yourself! And if you're in LA this October 31st, you're in luck because the world's premiere motivational seminar is going to be right here at the Staples Center (though it seems to me they're fighting an uphill battle to even get people motivated enough to leave they're house on Halloween rather than sitting at home in their underwear eating candy they "bought for the kids" that never come to their apartment building). Some of the world's most highly regarded speakers will be on hand to teach you the secrets to their success. And because I want to see you make something of yourself, I'm offering a little preview of what you can expect from a few of the big name speakers...

Rudy Guiliani, former Mayor of New York City
Mr. Giuliani promises to wow the audience with his insights on how to obtain one of the world's most prominent political positions in spite of having been born with a freak pumpkin-head. He'll also divulge, in great detail, the benefits of blowing off a chance at the White House in order to make the most of your Yankees season tickets and keep your schedule open for ironic cameos on Saturday Night Live.

Lou Holtz, Hall of Fame football coach
This former Notre Dame gipper is known as one of the greatest in history at delivering inspirational speeches to his players. Now, thanks to this seminar, you will get to experience it first-hand. Coach Holtz will prove to you that not even an Eek the Cat-like speech impediment can come between you and your future success (Note: panchos will be handed out to those in the first 5 rows, also known as the saliva splash zone).

Bill Cosby, legendary actor/comedian
The first half of your lecture from "the Cos" will reveal to you all the secrets of how to become one of the world's biggest comics, a beloved sitcom dad, and a world-renowned pudding peddler. While part 2 of his speech will focus on how to then transition into a crotchety old fuck who calls other comics to tell them they shouldn't swear and who may or may not have a serious history of sexual abuse.

Man v. Food: A study in indirect homicide

You've all probably seen an episode of Man v. Food. If you haven't, stop reading immediately, go to the Travel Channel website, and soak it in.... Done? You're welcome.
Now let me be clear, this is in no way an attack on the entertainment value of this show. Rather, it is an open question about what it means for us as a people that it's so popular.
I myself happen to love this show. As disgusted as I am by the fact that it exists, when I see it pop up on my channel guide I just can't resist. There's just something so alarmingly engaging about watching Adam Richman fill his shapeless body to the brim with quantities and forms of food that simply shouldn't be stuffed inside of anyone. The real problem is, I can't tell if my interest is piqued by how he will finish an 11-lb. pizza, or if it's something much darker, like the morbid curiosity of what it's like to watch a man slowly die.

"Why have none of you people stopped me?!"

Now in season four, I can't help but wonder how much time could possibly be left on Mr. Richman's cardiac clock. And when he inevitably croaks with a gullet full of Dagwood sandwich, aren't we all kind of to blame? Jumping from challenge to challenge has had a noticeable effect on Adam's girth, and there's no denying that in those inevitable mid-challenge moments when his breathing slows and the pallor disappears from his face, that he looks like he's in the early stages of a massive heart attack (they should seriously consider changing the name of this show to Man v. Mortality, because I swear if you look closely back at the 5-lb. cheesesteak episode, somewhere around minute seventeen you can actually see Death sitting at a table in the corner reading a newspaper). I know, I know, it's impossible to change the channel when Adam is plowing through "The Devil's Asshole" hot wings challenge, with his sweat beading so heavily you just know it's covering every last inch of his weird, lumpy body (that dude must have to wear Sham-Wow underwear), but by staying glued to the screen, aren't we all just helping to murder him? I think we are, and frankly, I don't know if I can live with this on my conscience.
As a people, I think it's crucial that we band together and refuse to watch this program. As fun as it is, I just don't want this guy's impending demise falling on me, and neither should you.

Next Week: An in-depth analysis on the irreparable damage Man V. Food is doing to our foreign relations.

The Truman Show: Rated X

While flipping through the channels the other day I stumbled onto The Truman Show on TBS (I guess I caught the two hour block that day where they weren't peddling some unspeakable Tyler Perry abomination) and every time I watch it I am even more impressed by what a truly good film it is. But this time, something else, something very different, struck me about it.
I thought to myself, with the unbelievable amount of reality TV churned out and napalming our brains each year, how far off are we from a real-life Truman Show? Honestly, I'd give it maybe two, three more years before some psycho heads to the office of a development exec and pitches a show that secretly tapes a baby for the entirety of its life. And don't act like you wouldn't watch it. If you soak in six hours of Teen Mom every week, you'd watch this. But this notion struck me with another, much more troubling question; just how much gratuitous self pleasuring must there have been in the taping of The Truman Show?!

"I swear I can feel their eyes on me..."

Think about it, throughout the film, tons of loyal viewers are shown glued to their television sets, addicted to even the smallest minutia of Truman's life. Now think back to ten or so years earlier, when Truman was but a budding young man in the frenzy of pubescent transformation. Now, if Truman is anything like every other boy in the world, around age thirteen his most prominent pastime quickly shifted from after school cartoons to just completely annihilating himself, often several times a day. And if in fact this was the case, logic says that for a large chunk of years in the long-running 24/7 broadcast of his life, the viewers were watching young Truman come home from school, lock himself in his room, and work over his not-yet-fully-grown wang like he was pumping it for information (and what the ratings did in said years would really say a lot about who the show's core viewership really was).
For shame you fictional perverts, for shame.
Anyway, sorry for ruining The Truman Show for you, but if I have to deal with these questions, so should you.

And the Oscar goes to... Sir Vincent of Diesel!

Shiny trophy!!!

Apparently, while racing his '67 Charger, Vin Diesel lost his damn mind in a high stakes bet. Since the huge release of the titular five-quel (that's what they call them, right?) in The Fast and The Furious series,Fast Five, Vin has been bragging around town about the possibility of some serious award consideration, saying: "I wouldn't be surprised if there is some Oscar talk around this." 
Really? You wouldn't be surprised? Because I feel like everyone else in the fucking world would be. The only way to legitimize that statement would be to follow it up with "I also wouldn't be surprised if OJ Simpson garnered some consideration for the Academy's lifetime achievement award," then laughing heartily and saying "Just fucking with you... obviously."
Listen, I like an ass-kicking action flick as much as the next guy, but if Vin Diesel really thinks there will be any Academy Awards for a film in which he and Paul Walker drive a convertible off a cliff and base jump out of it (or for any film that Paul Walker appears in, for that matter) then he has seriously lost his shit. He'll have a better chance of taking home the little golden man with the next Chronicles of Riddick installment than with anything that's fast and/or furious. 
Come on now Vin, just be who you are. You don't remember hearing Schwarzenegger talk up the Oscar chances of Collateral Damage do you? Just make your action flicks, count your money, and possibly consider fathering a child with the household help.

More Monsters Please!

When did creatures of the night become so friggin' all encompassing? When I was a kid zombies and werewolves and vampires were around, sure, but they weren't dicks about it.

Frankly, it would've been a lot better had the whole series been like this.

It seems like recently they're on every TV network and in every other movie that comes out. How about leaving some for us normals ya jerks? Must you be in everything? This is one of those Hollywood trends where you can't help but wonder "when the hell is this shit going to end?" (kind of like that trend in the late 90's where we were somehow supposed to believe Renee Zellweger was hot). Now don't get me wrong, some of these films are amazing. Zombieland was hilarious and the Blade trilogy was pretty awesome (until I found out he wasn't paying his taxes, communist), but for the most part it just seems like someone has a shitty script and an exec is like "Fuck it, throw a vampire in there? Sold."
As a writer, it's really got me down on my prospects. I can't help but imagine my first pitch meeting will go something like this:

Agent: Well, they loved your script.
Me: Oh my God really? They said that?!
Agent: They sure did. They just had one request.
Me: Great! What is it?
Agent: They'd love for you to have more monsters in it.
Me: More what?
Agent: Monsters.
Me: But there aren't any monsters in it.
Agent: Exactly. So they think it could stand to have a few more.
Me: I don't understand.
Agent: This is an easy fix kid. They'd just like you to tweak the script slightly to make it less of a satirical comedy on the state of our nation and more of a romantic comedy where a vampire and a werewolf fall in love.
Me: WHAT?!
Agent: They said they'll pay 500k.
Me: Done. (Though I haven't encountered the situation yet, I'm fully prepared to accept the likelihood that I will be a total sellout)

Why would the Lakers do this?!

While on the subway this weekend I overheard a conversation that sparked my imagination like few others have. It was an exchange between two middle-aged women regarding the current NBA playoffs. Weird, I know. I'll assume they had already covered what happened on Dancing with the Stars this week and how Glee just isn't as good as it used to be (Yay sexism!). But what caught me off guard was not the topic at hand, it was the serious conviction with which the one woman uttered this sentence:

"No, I don't want the Lakers to win because the last time they did they set my garbage can on fire!"

They hung this picture over her fireplace
mantel before they left too!

Now, I am fully aware that what this sounded like probably wasn't what she meant. In fact, I'd be willing to bet anything she meant some rowdy Lakers fans had gotten out of hand last year. But what I heard, was that after taking their second championship in as many years, the 2010 Lakers showed up at her house and proceeded to desecrate her property. And that made me smile.
My imagination reveled in the thoughts of Kobe gleefully egging her Saturn Vue, Pau Gasol draping toilet paper amongst her precious lemon trees, Lamar Odom lighting dog doo on her front porch, and Ron Artest (obviously) maniacally dousing her garbage can with gasoline and letting her rip. And of course, Phil Jackson sitting off to the side on a giant chair orchestrating the entire thing.
That's all. There's no great lesson here. Just that it would be HI-larious if you looked out your window after enjoying the game only to see your beloved team trashing your shit. That's funny and you know it.

Spider-Man: Turn On the Morphine Drip

The actor who tumbled thirty-five feet into the orchestra pit during a preview show of the perpetual Broadway shitstorm that has been "Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark" has vowed to return to the production when it resumes in June (no word yet as to the return of the bassoon player whose head he landed on).

Note to self: Webs not nearly as reliable as Bono said they'd be.

The brave thespian in question, Christopher Tierney, refuses to let a few broken ribs, a fractured shoulder blade, three broken vertebrae or a measly little fractured skull stop him from portraying the live-action web-slinger in the U2 helmed play. And I have to admit, that's pretty admirable. But you have to wonder what will happen when he returns to the perch from which he plummeted. Assuming that the actual safety issues have been resolved, I'd say there's still a 90% chance that the residual memory of faceplanting into the woodwinds section will at the very least cause the 31 year-old stuntman to wet himself whilst swinging wildly over the audience (bring your ponchos!).
In any case, here's to hoping Christopher's return to the show is a safe one, but that the show itself remains an unstoppable disaster. Why? Because fuck U2, that's why.


P.S. "Turn Off the Dark" doesn't make any god damn sense. Hey Bono, if you want to turn off the dark maybe try not wearing sunglasses 24 hours a day... Dick.

Hurricane Nic hits the Big Easy

Been hammered drunk in the French Quarter of New Orleans? Yup. Insisted that someone else's house is in fact your own? Done it. Gotten unnecessarily belligerent with police officers who were trying their best to just send you home and let you off with a warning? Yes, sadly I've done that too. But all in one night? No way. Surely such a maelstrom of awesomeness could not possibly be orchestrated by a mere mortal. Nicolas Cage however, yeah, he can do that. So he did.

"Wait, this isn't where I left our house."

Yes the crazy-haired Oscar winner found himself in police custody on Saturday after a boisterous and booze-fueled argument with his wife over whether or not the house they were standing in front of was the house they lived in (now that's drunk), caught the attention of local authorities. Though police did their best to calm the situation and let it slide (I imagine that is page one in the New Orleans PD handbook, seeing as how if they took in everyone who should be arrested on Bourbon Street it would require a holding cell roughly the size of New Orleans), Nic "dared" them to take him in (classic move, always ends well) and they eventually obliged.
Then, in a twist so amazing it made me pee my pants a little, Mr. Cage was bailed out by none other than Dog the Bounty Hunter. Yeah, this happened. And if you are anything like me you are praying with every fiber of your being that Nic jumps bail. Because I swear to God nothing would bring more joy to my life than to flick on A&E one night to the sight of Dog's giant-boobied wife macing Nicolas Cage.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, the over/under on how long South Park takes to dedicate an episode to this magical event is 4 weeks. I like the under.

Lady Gagaaaaahhh shit!

When I heard about this video, I knew I had to do my part to share it with the world (even if I can only offer the 15 pairs of eyes that consistently read this blog):

Wonderful.
Now even though I don't have anything in particular against the fair lady of gaga, she's still a weirdo, and this is just friggin funny. And it makes me happy knowing in my heart that every poor sap of a dude that got dragged to this concert by some female friend he's been trying to bed for the last year at least got a little chuckle out of this.
Too bad for Lady Gaga she wasn't wearing that meat dress again though, it probably would've offered her a lot more padding. Then again, she should be counting her lucky stars that she didn't smack her skull on the piano on the way down and wind up bleeding out on stage (don't be surprised if at future concerts she is also wearing a meat helmet).