Ripping families apart, one series at a time.
I’m not even going to dive into the pile of shit that is The Family formerly known as The Gosslins.
What about their obsession with disabled people? Mermaid girl, I was born without arms, the 1,000 pound man, Little People Big World, 18 Kids and Counting. The list goes on.
And yet I can’t turn away. I watch, transfixed by the absolute lunacy beaming back at me. It’s the modern-day freakshow. Mothers who pop babies out like it’s a hobby. Children born with horribly debilitating diseases. A one-legged dog.
In a sick and strange way I feel better watching these weirdo’s-I mean-courageous people. Because if they can make I can surely make it right? That lady only has one leg and was born without a spleen. What’s my excuse? Is it shallow to compare yourself to the people seen on TLC? Of course. Do I care? Absolutely not. My standards were low to begin with and they’re going anywhere but up.
Don’t get me wrong. I love rap music as much as any other upper middle class white girl. I went to a ghetto school and have been known to, on occasion, get crunk.
But even with my affinity for gangster rap, I can still admit that those fine fella’s (and the rare lady) are horrendous wordsmiths.
Allow me to present my case with the help of one of my favorite blogs, Snacks and Shit.
Exhibit B: Exhibit C:
Exhibit D: And just for shits let’s add in another.
If I get one more invitation to Farmville I’m going to buy Sarah Palin’s book.
I'm going to start a fire in your imaginary forest.
And if I joined your Mafia family I’d be a narc.
You’ve sunk to a new low MTV, and that’s really saying something considering your track record.
Remember "I Want a Famous Face?" My nightmares do.
The business plan is genius really. Take 9 of the sleaziest “guido’s and guidette’s” (their words, not mine) and throw them into an alcohol soaked house on the Jersey Shore. Make millions. Easy as pie.
This picture could really use a fist pump.
My favorite parts of this show are as follows:
1. Snooki (not her legal name) tells the cast mates her name is Snooki and everyone promptly calls her Snickers.
2. Mike refers to himself as “The Situation.” I’m going to assume “the situation” is chlamydia.
3. In order to live in the house they have to work at a T-shirt shop on the boardwalk. Nothing particularly funny about that, I just like that they have to work at a shop as cheap as their accents.
But, is this show terrible? Absolutely. By the second episode, one roommate has broken up with her boyfriend (who is also currently getting a divorce) and refuses to go to work. She also refuses to call and give her boss a heads up. So when he comes by to check on his mortally wounded house bunny, she refuses to talk to him from anywhere but the bathroom. That’s right. She makes her boss come talk to her through the bathroom door as she fiddles with the water and fake coughs. It is small screen gold.
And if that wasn’t enough, the promo for the season features Snickers (née Snooki) getting punched in the face by a guy at a a bar. So there’s that.
Not to be confused with insomnia. I mean when you typically have no trouble catching some z’s and you can’t sleep a wink.
Tossing and turning and turning tossing. It’s agony. And then you just watch those precious minutes tick by, thinking of how horrible tomorrow is going to be.
Your beer belly mocks me.
Try counting sheep, try a glass of warm milk, hire someone to come scratch your back. None of it works. You’re doomed to spend those 6 to 8 hours wide awake with your mind wandering to the great recesses of your brain.
The worst is if you have someone sleeping next to you. How dare they!? Just doze on off into lalaland while you lie awake in hell! You’re so tempted to wake them up, give them a swift elbow to the kidney or a kick to the shin. Startle them and then insist they were having a bad dream. It works every time.
After all, misery loves company.
Hey, Tiger, can we have a heart to heart? I just need your help in understanding this whole situation.
So let me just lay out the facts.
1. You drove your car into a fire hydrant and then into a tree. Your wife broke the back window with one of your golf clubs. She may or may not have been aiming for your face.
2. You have slept around. And by “around” I mean “with anything that has a fake tan and questionable morals.”
3. You publicly admitted to your indiscretions and have taken an “indefinite” break from golf.
4. You have extremely white teeth.
What a smug mug.
Now I can maybe understand running around on your wife if she could, by any stretch of the imagination, be considered hideous. But she can’t.
I bet she's got a great personality.
She’s Swedish. And a model. She’s a Swedish model. On the scale of who you can cheat on, she falls right around “Are you a fucking moron?”
You deserve to be left. By your wife and your sponsors. No one cheats on a Swedish model and gets away with it. NOBODY!