Please, Oh Please, OH PLEASE Let MTV Resurrect Bride & Tunnel
July 27, 2011

I’ll admit that I was tempted to head this post with a screen grab from when one of the male cast mates projectile vomits. I don’t know, it just felt like it’s more attention grabbing, but this being the blog that it is, I decided to go with the screen grab where a catfight erupts in a club and results with a girl getting shoved to the floor. My sensibilities are nothing if not consistent.

ANYWAYS, here’s a sizzle reel for MTV’s abandoned reality series Bridge & Tunnel. It’s basically like Jersey Shore, except it’s Staten Island. And everybody appears to live either at home or in a hotel? I don’t know. What I do know is that I haven’t gotten the trash TV train wreck tingles this bad since I saw the original Jersey Shore promo. The language is a little raw, but who cares? This show looks completely amazing:

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Five Reasons I’m the Most Excited for the New Season of Big Brother
July 6, 2011

Heads up, y’all. Big Brother 13 premieres tomorrow night, which means it’s entirely this blog could possibly devolve into incoherent, stream-of-conscious medley of Showgirls references and excessively homosexual chatter (which it already is), but now also peppered with all sorts of random asides to Rachel’s weave and hoping for the return of Zingbot. In short, this blog will make like a Talking Heads concert film and stop making sense, so consider yourself warned.

Anyways, if you’re uninitiated in Big Brother and would like a little insight into the impending insanity (or you’re my mother and will just want some vagues sense as to what the f*ck I’m babbling on about over the phone for the next few months), here are five reasons why I’m the most excited for the new season of Big Brother.

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Jersey Shore Deep Thoughts: On Lake Shore, the Canadian Jersey Shore
November 10, 2010

Salty language abounds, so pinkies out and headphones up, y’all:

You know, I’d try and come up with something pithy about train wrecks that smell like pine trees or how it’s refreshing to see that Italian Americans aren’t the ethnic group determined to embarrass themselves on television by actin’ a damn fool, but you know what?  I can have gay marriage, socialized medicine, biodegradable Sun Chip bags, AND this glorious mess?  F*ck it, America, I’m out!  RELEASE THE SNOOKI BOMB:

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Jersey Shore Deep Thoughts: We’re Fist Pumpin’ in Miami, Bitch! (Or, on the Rest of the Season Premiere)
July 30, 2010

Oh lordy, y’all.  So Jersey Shore‘s second season premiered last night, and much like the above image from Videogum of Snooki and Sammi Sweetheart listening intently to their conchs, it was a strange thing of booze-fueled, sh*t-talking, train-wreck-of-zen beauty, and how could it be anything but?  Let’s discuss a few of my favorite moments, shall we?

Angelina’s returned prompted The Situation to deliver serious FACE:

Truer feelings of utter disbelief, total confusion, and SENSE OF IMPENDING RIDICUDRAMA have never been FACE’d.  Well played, The Situation.  Very well played, indeed.

And let’s not forget when Snooki gave a brief dissertation on revisionist history:

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Jersey Shore Deep Thoughts: On the Season Two Trailer
June 30, 2010

Vodpod videos no longer available.

At a certain point, I stopped being excited for this train wreck to get back on the air and started being THE MOST excited for this train wreck to get back on the air.  That moment was when Snooki went after Angelina like that bitch stole her pickle.  Because that might be a metaphor about Vinnie’s sausage (hold the peppers), but it might not.

I mean, what can I say?  I might be a sucker for this paragon of grace and beauty:

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Jersey Shore Deep Thoughts: On Nicknames
January 7, 2010

The simple reality of Jersey Shore is that, so long as you don’t think too hard about, everything about Jersey Shore is completely amazing, so it should go without saying that the nicknames are just another part of the equation.  That said, not all Jersey Shore nicknames are created equal.  

Take, for example, “Snooki” and “The Situation”:

Snooki’s actual name is Nicole.  If etymology is the evolution of language, then getting from Nicole to Snooki is the linguistic equivalent of a tabby cat giving birth to a duck-billed platypus.  Mike, on the other hand, calls his abs “The Situation,” and then sometimes he calls himself “The Situation,” which I suspect is less about about nicknames and more about his abs becoming self-aware, much like Skynet.  One nickname’s a freak of nature, and the other’s a sentient robot.  Both are signs of the Apocalypse.  

ANYWAYS, even though I was actually made aware of this a few weeks ago, we need to discuss the fact that there’s a Jersey Shore nickname generator.  Well, more pointedly, we need to discuss the fact that THIS is my nickname:

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Welcome to 2010! Now Here’s a Lesson in How to Catfight Like a Lady
January 5, 2010

Happy new year/decade, y’all!  Seeing as it’s now January 5th, we should obviously file this under my inimitable sense of blog timeliness, but can you blame me?  You’d be taking your sweet time getting back into the swing of things if you were missing the following deliciousness like the desert misses the rain:

Brokeback Mountain jokes are still relevant in 2010, right?  Whatever.  Between the chicken biscuits and that damn Polynesian sauce that they inexplicably insist on calling Polynesian sauce because I guess that’s less culturally insensitive than “Sweet and Sour sauce” (?), I’m already trying to figure out how I get myself to Paramus, New Jersey just so I can get myself another Chick-fil-A fix.  Don’t judge me.

ANYWAYS, now that we’re back in action, I think it’s appropriate that we discuss the human train wreck that is season four of Bad Girls Club because I just got caught up this weekend.  And because this catfight is the classiest thing I’ve seen in ages:

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Jersey Shore Deep Thoughts: Once Again, On Pickles
December 17, 2009

In preparation for tonight’s impending train wreck episode of Jersey Shore, I think it’s important to clear up a major Snooki-related controversy that’s taken our cultural conversation by storm: 

This past weekend I decided to try to eat a pickle Snooki style, and you know what?  YOU CAN’T SUCK PICKLE JUICE OUT OF PICKLES.   Snooki wasn’t interested in passing down need-to-know techniques to enhance the fine art of pickle appreciation.  No no, this was about oral shmex, plain and simple.  I feel so naked, y’all, so very deceived.

And, yes, this obviously raises serious questions about her assertion that she invented the poof.  Once you’re capable of telling lies about pickle juice, you’re capable of telling lies about anything.

Jersey Shore Deep Thoughts: On Pickles
December 11, 2009

Like I’ve previously observed, Jersey Shore is best enjoyed when don’t think about it.  For example, Angelina left the house after her married boyfriend dumped her and she couldn’t be bothered to come into work because she kept coughing really loudly in hopes that someone would notice her (which is the first symptom that you’re too sick to work), Ronnie and Sammi bumped uglies and played putt putt, and JWOWW’s boyfriend dumped her over kissing Pauly D, but I’m leaving this Jersey Shore conversation at that because I’m already on the verge of blacking out from all this stupid.

But last night’s episode also had this cramaziness, which was stupid AND worth talking about:

Watching Snooki eat a pickle like she was giving was giving a juiced-up guido’s sausage  a little mouth lovin’ took her into a whole new realm of train wreck love because I could empathize with her situation.  Sure, I may not fellate my pickles when I eat them, but I do have a serious food crush on the kosher dills.  Seriously, just thinking about that garlic and vinegary goodness has me hungry like I’m knocked up with quintuplets.

And to make this tangential discussion even more absurd (yes, it’s possible), my brain damn near fell out of my ear when I recognized the very brand of pickles that she was eating:

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Jersey Shore: Don’t Ask Questions. Just Enjoy the (Train Wreck) Ride
December 9, 2009

Sorry for the timeliness, y’all, but I’ve been stuck in deep contemplation over our most recent pop culture phenomenon that will surely be swept under the rug of irrelevancy as soon at something more stupefyingly trashtastic comes our way.  Naturally I’m referring Jersey Shore:

And, while as much as I love the duck phone and the multiple references to puke breath and the guidos’ cartoonish hyper-masculinity and the simple fact that Pauly D owns a tanning bed IN HIS OWN HOME BEDROOM (!?!?!), I’ve also come to the decision that it is nearly impossible to talk about this show because it’s profoundly stupid.  It’s basically a documentary that was rejected by PBS because PBS decided that it would be disingenuous to air a series that treats its subject matter like a comically exhibitionistic alien race as opposed to real people that are part of an actual cultural minority but was then saved when MTV came along and was like, “Standards, shmandards!  TAKE US TO YOUR ARTIFICIALLY TANNED LEADER!!!”  Really, attempting to apply any sort of critical thought to this show is like like begging for a brain aneurysm.

For example, I know that enjoying this show as a study in human train wrecks makes us all slightly worse people than we were before Jersey Shore was in our lives, but even acknowledging that makes my head hurt when I consider that these people are so confident in how they see themselves that they clearly could care less what the rest of us think.  It can only explain this:

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Or as I Like to Call It: Gindaloon, The Documentary Miniseries
November 11, 2009

Here’s the promo for MTV’s newest reality series, Jersey Shore, which just might be the nadir pinnacle of television programming:

It’s basically the bastard baby between The Hills and The Real Housewives of New Jersey, so it’s going to be 2009’s prize gem of trash television.  I personally hope that at least one girl pulls a Teresa and flips a table over, and I super hope at least one of the guys acts like this guy.  Chances are they will at least that ridiculous and then some, and that can mean only one thing:

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The Cougar Really Does Make Dreams Come True
April 16, 2009

cougar-watch-now1

Did you see The Cougar last night?  If you didn’t, you honestly missed out on something truly magical in the realm of trashy, reality television.  It turns out that this show wasn’t a bad idea; it’s the best idea!  There were so many trains in this colossal train wreck that it’s difficult to know where to begin.

There was, for starters, the Vivica A. Fox train wreck.  She’s actually pretty likable as a hostess, and you feel kinda bad for seeing her have to sink so low for a paycheck.  That said, though, I’ve never seen a forehead been more botoxed in my entire life.  It really.  Doesn’t.  Move.  I guess that means the train wreck is actually Vivica A. Fox’s forehead, but still, yikes!

Then you have their version of the rose ceremony, which is called “the kiss off.”  She literally kisses contestants on the lips if they stay or the cheek if they’re out.  Trust me, it’s far more sexy than it sounds, particularly when she’s clearly making barf faces while kissing some of the 15 guys she had to keep on the show past this first elimination.  Oh the things a cougar must do in the quest for true love (of sex with men nearly half your age).

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For Fans of Trash TV, The Cougar is Your New Favorite Show. Period.
April 9, 2009

Someone in the television industry has clearly been working quite hard to make the absolutely worst piece of television ever.  After much work, though, they look to have finally succeeded.  Seriously.  The Cougar is part competitive reality dating show, part novelty pop-culture buzz word obsession, and a few dashes of totally busted faux-progressive gender politics to spice things up.  I need to find a new phrase other than “train wreck,” because hot damn does that phrase not do this nonsense justice.  Just look at this thing:

This show is like the train wreck of the future, where trains fly through space and are powered by nuclear engines, and then one day several of these space trains crash into each other and create a terrible nuclear explosion that showers the land below with flaming wreckage and radioactive fallout, yet throughout this whole terrible moment you JUST.  CAN’T.  TURN AWAY!  This mess is beyond epic, y’all; it’s bonafide life-changing.  Paradigms are shifting and bars are being raised and Vivica A. Fox needs to find a new agent like it’s nobody’s business.

The Cougar promises to have it all when it comes to the worst in television.  There’s the 20 desperate/pathetic tools spouting utter nonsense (“Stacey is like a gray squirrel I just want to pounce on!” may be the first great simile of the 21st century).  There’s the painfully ludicrous attempt by producers to sell the show as something radical and new (“Welcome to a show that will change everything you know about love, relationships, and getting older” is clearly the most profoundly true interpretation of this show that we shall ever know).  There’s also the tantalizing promise of a bevy of hot 20-something guys taking their shirts off for our collective (collective meaning “strictly gay men and their favorite gal pals”) viewing.

Mostly, though, there’s the Cougar, Stacey.  According to TV Land’s website, Stacey is “a successful and determined realtor” and “a beautiful, blonde mother of four.”  She’s also your fag hag.

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The Real Housewives of New Jersey is Television Genius
March 18, 2009

I traditionally avoid the Real Housewives shows on Bravo because the people on it tend to make my soul hurt.  Thankfully, Bravo has found the perfect solution in crafting their latest reality-tv-show-about-swamp-monsters-disguised-as-women: they’ve set it in New Jersey.  Look at this cast of lovely ladies:

housewives-nj

Apparently two of the women are sisters who’re married to two brothers who run a catering business, and the two sisters’ brother is married to another of the housewives.  Sweet, I love it when they keep the drama in the family.  You know these fights are going to get extra nasty because this hornet’s nest of Aqua-Net-infused bitchiness is so tightly knit.

Oh.  There’s also this:

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Yes, you heard correct.  There will be a plot point in this show in which the hot son goes to law school while his brother dreams of opening a strip club/car wash (huh?).  I’m pretty certain my mother would bludgeon me into a coma with the nearest blunt object if I ever told her my life’s ambition was to open a strip club.  The idea of a mother hoping her son’s strip club isn’t just foreign to me, it’s flat out alien, which makes Real Housewives of New Jersey a documentary about space travel and an alien race of humanoids.  Excellent.

And I think we can agree that we’ve all been here before:

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