2011 in Review: Dumbest Moments in Pop Culture

Honorable Mentions:  Casey Anthony.  Arnold Schwarzenegger has illegitimate child with his maid; kid dresses up as the Terminator for Halloween.  Ke$ha.

5. The Royal Wedding.  

While we’ve posted on the royal wedding before, we’re still amazed at how long this cloud of bullshit lingered (and continues to linger/respawn). First it was about the princess-to-be and the wedding itself.  Then it was about the hats. Then it was about her hot sister with the weird name (oh, right, “Pippa.”).  Then it was about her alleged and highly anticipated pregnancy.  Why everyone felt it so necessary to freak out about this, we’ll never know.

4. Kim Kardashian gets married… for 72 days.  Kim married basketball player Kris Humphries, and divorced him less than three months later.  Cue media firestorm: it was fake!  They did it for the money!  All of it is a sham!  Do you people not realize Kim Kardashian’s entire life is a scam to get your money?  Why did you think her marriage to this douche would be any different?  C’mon!  On a side note, I think the height-difference alone doomed them.  I mean, that would really, really complicate things… like dancing.

3. Justin Bieber’s baby mama drama.  Everyone’s favorite manboy singer was accused of having sex with some random nineteen year old girl in a bathroom at one of his concerts, resulting in her getting preggers.  We already posted about this, largely because this girl was claiming she banged a minor… for more entertainment!  Not only was it impossible to Google “Justin Bieber Baby” to get any information about this ridiculous story (given the title of his single), it was just stupid.  There’s so much wrong here.  First off, if you’re nineteen and you are at a Justin Bieber concert, you should be ashamed of yourself.  Secondly, I’m sure this kid has a little more class than to have sex with you in a bathroom stall.  I mean, he’s Bieber, he gets whatever he wants.  He would probably make love to you on a bed of candy or something equally juvenile.  Three, maybe you shouldn’t text people and reveal that you’re full of shit when you’re trying to scam a celebrity out of child support for the next eighteen years.  On top of that, maybe Biebs should have listened up on his Kanye West before hitting the bigtime: “eighteen years, she got one of yo’ kids got you for eighteen years.”  Just sayin.  However, the tweets about this stuff were, admittedly, HILARIOUS.  Nothing better than twelve year olds freakin’ out and calling some teenager a dirty, lying whore (which she was).

2. Charlie Sheen goes overboard on blow, “Winning!” If somebody didn’t realize Charlie Sheen was a little bit “off” before his coke addiction hit the fan this year, then you must’ve been living under a rock. The way news media latched on to this bombshell of a story, though, only happens once in a blue moon. Sheen is no idiot–he used his meltdown to his advantage, and is possibly one of the only celebrities I’ve ever heard of making money off of their sheer insanity caused by drug abuse. Charlie, you are, truly, a rock star from Mars.

1. Rebecca Black gives the world “Friday.” I don’t know what was more amazing: how totally, absolutely, and truly BAD this song was, the hysterical memes that resulted from it, or people’s unchecked rage toward Rebecca Black herself. This goofy YouTube video took on a life of its own and even created a template for a Kohl’s Black Friday ad this year. While the song was awful, you have to be impressed with a piece of music that causes such a guttural reaction among the public and is collectively condemned as the worst song of all time. Just think, Jefferson Starship had to work almost thirty years to get “We Built This City” declared as the worst song of all time. It took Rebecca Black about two weeks. Bravo.

We hope you’ll remember 2011 like we will:

10 More Reasons You’re a Terrible Driver

Driving around this weekend enraged me again, so I thought I would share a few additional awful examples of driving/humanity, and reiterate some of the more important points that no one seems to know.

*For the first 10 Reasons, please see our previous post, “10 Reasons You’re Being a Driving Douche.” 

  1. If it’s 8:57 AM, you’re not the only one running late for work.  We all are.  We have no sympathy for you.  Don’t be a douchebag when everyone else is just as late.  Very few people start work at 9:30, so get over yourself.  Settle it down, Howard Dean.  No one needs to get that hyped in the morning.
  2. Don’t assume that I’m controlling the car in front of me; are you controlling the car in front of you? (That’s me… and NO.)  Don’t get mad at me.  I can’t control them.  I would also like to go faster, but I don’t have a ray gun.  I also don’t have mind control powers.  So… back the hell off!
  3. Children in the car = worse driving?  If there are children with you, you should actually improve your driving, and make a real effort to not kill them.
  4. If you eat while you drive, prioritize.  By that, I mean that the driving part is more important.
  5. Maintain your vehicle.  If you don’t, we’ll all die.
  6. Remember that you are visible to other drivers, especially when stopped in traffic.  We can see you picking your nose, doing your make-up, fighting with your passengers, and/or yelling at your kids.  Maybe wait until you get home.
  7. Don’t do your make-up in the car.  STUPID HEAD.
  8. Running lights are NOT enough.  If it’s dark, turn on your big girl lights.  Why is this so hard?  Why? WHY?
  9. Use your turn signal, or I will crush you with my mind.  I know that I previously said I didn’t have mind control powers, or a way to de-materialize the car in front me, which is still mostly true.  It is only when I reach my highest level of anger possible that I can crush other people with my mind.  This is figurative, y’all.

Top 15 Risks of Living Alone

Living alone will make you crazy; at the least, it will exaggerate whatever craziness you already possessed.  There is no one around to shame you into acting like a normal person.  There is no one to make you self-conscious about your food, dress, dancing, etc.  You can let it all hang out, and so you do.  As recently pointed out in a dear friend’s facebook status (she shall remain nameless, but I’ll just say she’s a Yooper), sometimes living alone inspires some fairly weird habits, idiosyncrasies, and general standards of living.

Here are the Top 15 Risks of Living Alone:

  1. If it’s yellow, it will mellow.
  2. Naked Monday.  Naked Tuesday.  Naked Wednesday.  Naked Thursday.  Naked Friday.  Naked Saturday.  Naked Sunday.  Naked…  sometimes being naked all the time is risky.  Sometimes you’re blinds might be left up.  Someday you might even make eye contact with the FedEx delivery guy while you’re dancing naked in your living room.
  3. Because you never need to create private spaces, you get in the habit of keeping doors open.  This makes hosting a little more difficult.  For some reason, people don’t like to see you pee.
  4. There is no one else’s schedule to think about, so you may end up staying awake until 3:00 A.M. and sleeping until… well, all day.  No one is moving about, or trying to sleep, so things get weird.
  5. No one sees you eat, and so you are not judged, or self-conscious about your decisions.  This means dinner might consist of only brussel sprouts, or perhaps only popcorn.  Sometimes, dinner also means half a tub of ice cream.  Like I said, things get weird.
  6. Talking to yourself when no one else can see you seems fine, but then you leave your apartment…
  7. A casual drink when you come home from work is still drinking alone, and that feels sad.
  8. “Clean” becomes whatever level of messy you can handle.  Underwear will roam freely.  Dishes will accumulate.  Beds will remain unmade.
  9. You have to defeat all the spiders.  Victory will sometimes escape you.
  10. You have to pay for everything.  Everything.
  11. Each bump in the night is inevitably a murderer, or a burglar, or goatman, or man-bear-pig, or your old stalker, etc.
  12. There is no one to shame you about all the singing, so the singing never ends.
  13. When you get sick, you’re on your own.  Buy a LifeAlert NOW.
  14. Your dancing will not improve.
  15. No one is there to monitor your farting… This can lead to complications.

You’re Trying Too Hard (and by that I mean that I can see your lady-bits).

How often has this happened to you?  You are at a bar, drinking and being merry, when a girl, or a giant group of girls walk(s) by and then, YOU SEE HER CHATCH. There are always girls at any given bar who wear skirts so short you can see their business.  These girls dance around, usually on a stage of some kind, and flail their exposed tacos all about for the other party-goers to see.  I think this is pretty rude, delusional, and disturbing.  People don’t like looking at other people’s genitals in public.  No, thank you.  NO.

Keep your babies out of the bar.

Keep your baby-maker out of sight at the bar too.

This is borderline illegal.

If a dude had his weiner out at a bar, you would arrest him.  I don’t want to see a chick’s butt or front-butt either.  It’s gross.  It’s creepy.  It’s genitalia.

Just because you want to look sexy and get noticed while out on the town with your “girls,” does not mean you have the right to show me your genitals.  I don’t want to see your crotch.  In fact, I bet most dudes aren’t really excited about seeing your crotch on the dance floor.  Most dudes would be fine with you wearing pants and/or a longer skirt while you simply promise them future contact with your lady-bits.  No one needs to see your bits whilst in public.

I just don’t want to see this.  I don’t want to be involved in your sex life.  I don’t want to be forced into seeing what you use in your sex life.  Settle the hell down.  Skirts should be long enough to cover your butt cheeks, even your under-butt-crease.  Skirts should also cover your frontal zones of privacy.  No one but your private sexual partner should be exposed to your exposed frontal zones of privacy.

Your “Baby Daddy” Is a Minor. Um…

Okay, Mariah Yeater, age 20, you had a baby three months ago.  I’ll give you that.  When you had that poor baby, you decided to name him Tryston?  That’s strike one.  You also went to a Justin Bieber concert at 19?  Strike two.  Strike three is that you are now claiming that when you went to that concert, you got knocked up by Justin Bieber, which means you had sex with Justin Bieber when you were 19, and he was 16…  THAT MEANS HE WAS A CHILD.  That means, your obviously bogus claim that a superstar knocked you up in a backstage bathroom also means you are claiming that you had sex with a child.

You were an adult – age 19.

He was a minor – age 16.

You are gross.

Any time a chick claims some famous dude is her baby daddy, I feel pretty skeptical.  The fact that this chick is claiming that a minor/superstar is her baby daddy makes me really angry.  I’m not a huge Bieber fan; I find him a little annoying.  However, the kid is talented and he seems like a nice boy.

This whole thing is crazy.  I really think this chick is lying.  If she’s not, it will break the heart of hundreds of thousands of girls.  If she’s lying, (which she is) then she’s pretty much screwing her kid forever.  That kid’s life will always be tarnished with the trashiness and desperation of his mother.





I’m gonna make this short and sweet.

A. This song is awful. Formally AND for its shitty content. (80s dance party, anyone?)

B. The Tea Partiers have long needed to stop being so self-righteous.

C. The Tea Party and Occupy Wall Street are the same bullshit. They’re both movements who have made it very clear what they’re against and have offered no possible solutions to the problems they have identified other than ones that revolve around absence (e.g. stop government spending or stop giving tax cuts to corporations and millionaires). Neither of these things are helpful.

D. This song is so bullshit.

“You and I…” Don’t you mean, “You and ME?”

I love me some Lady Gaga.  She can entertain like nobody else.  I do think she’s gone a little too far over the top, though.  She would be just as impressive with 5 costume changes instead 10.  She would look just as cool in pants.  She would still sound amazing with just a piano.  She’s pretty cool.

That said, I hate grammar mistakes!  I’m sure I make them all the time… well, occasionally.  It upsets me greatly to see a professionally released piece of writing or music with a clear grammatical error.  “You and I” is a prime example.

She sings,

Sit back down on the couch where we
Made love the first time and you said to me

Something, something about this place
Something ‘bout lonely nights and my lipstick on your face
Something, something about my cool Nebraska guy
Yeah something about, baby, you and I

Presumably, this would appear in a complete sentence as follows: “There’s something about you and I, baby.”  This is wrong.  If this were written correctly, it would appear as follows: “There’s something about you and me, baby.”  I know there are people out there who will dispute this because they think a person ought to always say, “You and I,” rather than “You and me.”  These people are wrong; these people are very long.

There is a simple way to test whether a person should should say, “I” or “me” in a given sentence and/or situation.  Try the sentence without the other person.  This means, if you are trying to describe going to the store with your sister, you can first try, “I went to the store.”  Therefore, if you and your sister went, you say, “My sister and I went to the store.”  This also means that if you are trying to say that there is something about you, you would say, “There’s something about me.”  You would not say, “There’s something about I.”  Thus, you would say, “There’s something about you and me.”  You would not and should not say, “There’s something about you and I.”

C’mon, Gaga.  You’re better than that.


Avril Lavigne is a Vampire.

Avril Lavigne hit it big about ten years ago, with the release of her album Let Go, which was a collection of sudo-punk-pop songs about boys, moving, and being an angsty teenager.  It was 2002.  She was 17ish.  It was obviously a magical time for everyone alive and with a radio.  “Complicated” was a No. 1 hit, “Sk8er Boi” was huge.  She was kind of a big deal.  As an angsty pre-teen, I was quite a fan.  She was right, “everything [was] changing, out of my control,” and I listened to this seemingly hard-shelled Canadian lady who yodeled, rapped and sang the same way I wrote poorly composed, wildly emotional poetry.
Want to hear her rap?  Click here!
At that age, I thought she was the coolest thing ever.  She had that long, flawless hair.  She wore a wife beater, a tie and boy-pants.  It blew my mind.  She wore plastic bracelets, skater shoes, sweatbands and all sorts of star-themed jewelry.  Her eyeliner was not messing around.  Duh, she was the coolest.  Even though I was chubby and still clearly in my awkward phase (of which I think I’m finally almost out), I emulated these style choices a little.  On the first day of high school, I wore a necklace I had made entirely from paperclips.  I went through a “dark” period, but we don’t need to worry about that.  What I really want to focus on is that Avril Lavigne was cool; she didn’t give a hoot, and it showed.

She went to the Grammy Awards in a weird blue and black tuxedo.  She messed with mall cops.  She gave the finger like it was her job.
She told stories of “boi”s and “gurlz” from different worlds… You know, like a white kid who is middle class, but still liked to skateboard, dating a girl who also has some money from her parents, but she does ballet.  So, obviously, there was nothing else she could say.

We were all haunted by her lyrical prowess.
Then, a few years passed by and everything seemed normal.  Avril released some more music, but I didn’t really care.  I had moved on to bigger and better things, you know, like Blink-182 and Incubus.  I wasn’t paying enough attention.  It wasn’t until recently, with the release of her latest album that I realized something: Avril Lavigne is a vampire.
Don’t believe me?  I have evidence.


She Has Not Aged – At All


She seriously looks the same.  Okay, she wears more make-up.  Okay, her hair is blonder and occasionally multi-colored.  Other than that, she looks the same.
Same!  Same!
She Also Hasn’t Matured – At All
Yeah, she wears more make up and she wears more skirts, but that doesn’t have a thing to do with actual maturity.  Her song lyrics are still simplistic and annoying.
For the Most Part, She Dresses the Same 
More skirts, fewer ties, still a teenage sk8er chick.
Her Music Is The Same – Weirdly the Same
Even when “Sk8er Boi” came out (ugh, writing that out still makes me cringe), I knew it was bad.  Almost 10 years later, Avril released “Girlfriend,” which is possibly one of the worst songs of the decade.  It’s pop-yelling, Canadian white girl rapping, sudo-punk, middle school anger pop.  It is awful.
Other people agree.  Click here!
Her latest song, “Wish You Were Here,” also has amazing lyrics:
There’s a girl
who gives a shit
behind this wall
You’ve just walked through itAnd I remember all those crazy things you said
You left them running through my head
You’re always there, you’re everywhere
But right now I wish you were here.
All those crazy things we did
Didn’t think about it, just went with it
You’re always there, you’re everywhere
But right now I wish you were hereDamn, Damn, Damn,
What I’d do to have you
here, here, here
I wish you were here.
Damn, Damn, Damn
What I’d do to have you
near, near, near
I wish you were here.
Damn, damn, damn… You’re a vampire!
She Can’t Tan – I think…
Or, at least, I’ve never seen her with a tan.
Her Teeth – They’re a Little Vampiric       
I want to suck your blood!

If you have additional evidence of Avril Lavigne being a vampire, please let us know.

Guilty Pleasures Are Good for You

Stop being ashamed of your guilty pleasures; they’re good for you.

Judge me all you want, but I friggin’ love “The Bachelorette,” “The Bachelor,” and “Bachelor Pad.”  It is amazing.  I love watching super-attractive people get upset because they think no one likes them; it’s comforting.  I also love watching people claim to fall in love with each other after two dates.  That is also awesome and it reminds me of high school.  I love that they get drunk, but claim to be classy.  I love that they all totally bone each other, but they pretend like they don’t and/or glorify the boning by going to places called “Fantasy Suites.”  Fake classiness for the win!

I’m sorry, but I just love this show.


  “The Jersey Shore” is a ridiculous show with ridiculous people, but lots of normal people who do normal things with their normal days really enjoy this show and just like watching it.  It’s a dumb show.  They are trashy and gross.  They love fighting, drinking, partying, smooshing, boning, yelling, debating, dancing, and so much more.  They are who they are, though.  They own it.  They don’t make excuses and they’re not worried about.  Cool, whatever.  Let them do their thing.

I do have to say, though, it makes me a little sad how rich they are, but that’s because I’m jealous.


I also love perezhilton.com.

Perez Hilton is funny and he’s trashy and he makes no excuses about it.  He also expects people to be decent, even when they’re super trashy, or cray-cray.  The blog/website is just funny and that’s all it wants to be for its readers.

The man draws on celebrity pictures in Microsoft Paint; it is wonderful and I can’t help but love it.  He mocks all freely.  He mocks all the awful ones, and the normal(ish) ones too.  The site knows what it is, and that’s all it wants to be.

Celebrities only deserve so much respect.  They might also deserve a little honesty every now and then.

All I’m saying is guilty pleasures are good for you.  I don’t deny myself “The Bachelorette,” or perezhilton.com.  I won’t deny myself weird frozen drinks, or PBR, or fancy wine.  I love peanut butter sandwiches.  I love listening to *NSYNC.  I think “The Holiday” is a great movie.

No matter what your pleasure, embrace it.  It’s okay to be a weirdo because everyone is a weirdo.  Do your thing.  And shut up about other people’s things.