Archive for the ‘Hot Chicks’ Category

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Smorgasblog: Rondo’s Elbow, Hummus, Marisa Miller and my Mom

May 9, 2011

I haven’t done a Smorgasblog in a little while, and after a weekend getting sexually assaulted by a blackjack table, the tiny asian temptress who dealt those satanic hands, the devil spawn of an ATM machine that dispensed my money, and whiskey on the rocks, I doubt I’d be able to string together enough coherent words for one awesome blog topic (like the Night Party Bus Addendum, coming later this week!). See, just then I somehow decided it made sense to write one run-on sentence with five commas in it. I even re-read it to make sure it sounded okay, and walked away satisfied with the start to this blog. Let’s just get to the smorgas’ing. This blog brought to you by British Pop star Cheryl Cole, because she looks decent etc.

Le'go.

RONDO’S ELBOW

This one time, I banged my elbow on a gym door latch right before warmups and wouldn’t you know, it hit my funny bone. Searing waves of pain fired across seemingly every synaptic vesicle in my brain as I thought, “sweet baby Jesus, take me now.” I thought for sure my career would be cut short. Thankfully, the pain subsided in about 37 seconds and I didn’t miss a shot in the layup line. I was eight years old in this imaginary tale being used to draw a comparison to Rajon Rondo on Saturday night.

Just 15 years after this harrowing falsified anecdote, I cannot comprehend how Rondo played with a gimp, dislocated left arm the other night. More inexplicable, is how the Miami Heat refused to overplay and deny him going right. If you watched the replay hammered drunk, you would have known an elbow shouldn’t bend like Rondo’s did. Even if you weren’t hammered drunk, you may have arrived at that fact. To compare what Rondo did to the embarrassment of the Lakers yesterday would be a disservice to homeless people. Because they try harder in life than the Lakers did on the court. So I guess, what I’m saying is, the Lakers compare more favorably to homeless people than Rondo, but still not very favorably to society?

By the way, this could be the turning point in the Heat-Celtics series. KG played like it was 1999 (not to be read like that terribly catchy song about partying like it’s, well, you get it), Paul Pierce is back in a groove, and Chris Bosh has openly admitted that it’s his time of the month and the Boston crowd gave him the jitters. For the record, only an emasculated man who got turned into KG’s housewife says the word “jitters.” Sprinkle in the fact that DWade has been playing dirty and Shaq may have to knock him into the off-season, and I think we have a seven game series on our hands.

Anybody else’s skin crawling after that awkwardness? “Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

HUMMUS & WHEAT THINS

They are like the Portman-Kunis lesbian scene in Black Swan. Feeding off each other’s passion, beauty and dedication to their roles, they create one of the most satisfying feelings ever. There is literally no hummus size tub that can hold me down. Yesterday I started in on a “Party Size” tub that serves 16. If that was a “party” it would have been over fast, and no one would have gotten buzzed, let alone laid.  Since the age of six, I’ve “snack”ed in the way Charlie Sheen bangs a rock. Even though my mom regularly purchased low sodium Wheat Thins, I’d salt those bitches up and go to town, tearing through boxes like a rapper on tour in an Atlanta suburb. So, when my palate matured enough to fully appreciate the heavenly, tangy spread of hummus atop the crystalline encrusted top of a Wheat Thin, the greatest snack combo known to man burgeoned.

Hummus: meet Wheat Thins.

WELCOME TO THE TWITTERVERSE, MARISA!

You're probably not as ready as Marisa is for summer...

This weekend, Twitter finally reached a level of credibility in my eyes: Marisa Miller joined. Prior to this event, Twitter essentially acted as a way for me to add one more layer of social media to my internet experience, which as some of you may know, is my Super Bowl. Now, my twitterverse has been flipped upside down. Left is right. Up is down. Ochocinco going to Target is no longer the highlight of my feed. Marisa Miller struggling to grasp the re-tweet is just another update on my timeline. Prior to this, I used Twitter like the bastard half-brother to Facebook after Zuckerberg messed around with the postman. It got to the point where I attempted to stay relevant on Twitter through people solely tweeting at me. Relevance through absence is power, after all. I know, that shit is deep, so go ahead and breathe that in once more. Relevance through absence is power. Now, I just want to tweet all the live long day knowing Marisa Miller is doing the same thing. She’s muploading fly shots of her at the Kentucky Derby, and wearing the living hell out of any article of cloth that attempts to cover her body. Just the other day, she tweeted her newest Esquire summer shoot, which you already had to cut your inseam out over.

MOTHER’S DAY

Better late than never. Better never than late. I choose, “There is an immeasurable distance between late and too late” by American author Og Mandingo, for the obvious reason that his last name was Mandingo. Feel free to insert any other time-related idiom, but my mom is pretty awesome. She birthed me, then taught me lots of stuff along the way. Perhaps her most amazing trait, aside from the ability to dominate Jeopardy on a nightly basis whilst reading some form of literature at the same time, is her love for sports. Growing up, “bedtime” came when the Red Sox ended. For this blog’s sake, I am thankful for that. She corrected my school papers with the fine-toothed comb any English major-turned-journalist/newspaper editor would. By third grade, she held my subject-verb agreements in contempt. When high school began, passive voice gave her active rage. College applications rolled around, and she deemed me “frustrating” and “mediocre” as a writer. Two high compliments. If she were to read my blog, it would probably cause a sinking feeling that shakes her very core, similar to the realization of swallowing a full curd in sour milk. While it is doubtful she would swell with pride upon reading the Revolver, she did provide the sturdy foundation to support this house of cards I masquerade as a blog with widely delusional, humorous thoughts. Like lipstick on a pig, such is Colt’s Revolver. Love you, Mom.

NSFW due to an F bomb, obvi. Is it even worth warning you guys at this point? I mean, if your boss walked by while you were reading, he/she already knows what’s good…

Stay tuned…

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Smorgasblog: Obama Bro’ing Out! Sheen’s Power, Uncle Tom, Youtube Chick “Singers”

March 16, 2011

Porn stars, the president, Uncle Tom, and internet video sensations. Unfortunately, not all in one story, or we’d have the best blog ever, today. But, it’s still damn good, and even Rosie Jones would be proud. Too much awesome stuff to mix into one pre-determined hot girl as your presenter of today’s Smorgasblog, so I’m just going to let it flow and see what hotness can be conjured up… Enjoy. But first…

Oh, Rosie... so good to have you back in my internet space.

OBAMA JUST BRO-ING OUT LIKE IT’S HIS DAMN JOB!

Barack, I know I’ve been writing gold, but you need to chill out with this Revolver obsession. Mr. President has obviously been reading my last two blogs about Spring Break and March Madness. First, he’s on ESPN today making his NCAA picks with his brother from an American-born mother, Andy Katz. Showing his true political beliefs, Obama resorted to an often used tactic of his in the Illinois Senate as he simply voted “present” rather than taking a stand. Dude picked nothing but 1 seeds to make it to the Final Four. For the love of Allah, show a little backbone, Barry.

But, that’s not all Barack is doing to show his love for the Revolver. This weekend, he’s hopping a jet to Rio de Janiero to just shred it up with the finest hunnies in the world. Clearly, the Spring Break Survival Guide I wrote earlier this week got him too hot to just sit around being presidential. I mean, it’s not like Japan just exploded, the stock market has dropped, and Gadhafi is killing his own people in Libya and taking back power. To top it off, all White House events today are “closed press” except for a ceremony praising Obama’s “committment to transparent government.” Gotta love his style. Just spitting in the winds of adversity. Here’s some ass the president can expect down in Brazil.

Emanuela de Paula just melting keyboards and frying motherboards.

GRANT HILL GETS CALLED AN UNCLE TOM

By now, you probably read about the letter Grant Hill sent to the New York Times. Hill responded to an interview from Jalen Rose’s documentary on Michigan’s “Fab Five” basketball team, in which he and other black Duke players were referred to as “Uncle Toms.” If you haven’t, here’s an excerpt: “In his garbled but sweeping comment that Duke recruits only “black players that were ‘Uncle Toms,’ ” Jalen seems to change the usual meaning of those very vitriolic words into his own meaning, i.e., blacks from two-parent, middle-class families. He leaves us all guessing exactly what he believes today.”

First off, Grant: who responds via letter to the Times? Nowadays you fit that shit into 160 characters via Twitter. Your response should have read: “Jalen Rose iz str8 buggin. Coach K wuz 4eva bumpin Milez Daviz in practice. If dat makes me Unkle Tom, #itizwutitiz.” Next up, Grant, you’re trying to make it seem like Jalen Rose doesn’t know what he thinks about you, or what an Uncle Tom is. Quite the opposite, Grant. Jalen knew he was calling you a “bitch” who went to play for a white guy at a white school who generally only recruits white players. His words, not mine. By definition, that’s what made you an Uncle Tom in his eyes. Not the fact that you have two parents who work in a middle-class community. Why would THAT be a white thing? Nobody grows up with two parents in a middle-class environment these days. I thought Duke was supposed to be a good school? Don’t you know more than half of all marriages end in divorce, and 1% of Americans make up 90% of the countries wealth? The middle-class nuclear white family went out the window with pre-nups and 9/11. Thanks a lot, Bin Laden.

REBECCA BLACK KNOWS WHEN FRIDAY IS!!!

Effing Bieber! Dude created this whole new genre of music where his little tard chick fans think they can just make music on Youtube, and get famous so he’ll want to give them his purity ring or some crap. Biebers don’t just grow on trees, especially American ones. Is Rebecca Black shitting me? Do her friends think she is cool? There’s no way this video is serious, right? Just a bunch of 14 year-olds looking forward to Friday so they can “party”? This isn’t a 90210 episode, hunny. You and your gang aren’t robbing any liquor cabinets and dabbling in the booger sugar. At best, you’re chugging a Red Bull or two, playing “Truth or Dare” and buzzing off that caffeine while you send iChat videos to each others Facebook walls while sitting in the same room.

Really, I blame the parents here. At some point, your kid’s dreams have to get crushed. Simple fix to the cyber bullying their daughter should be enduring over this video would just be: “Darling, we know you want Justin’s purity ring, but your songs make as much sense as Helen Keller’s early work, and have the intellectual depth of a toddler’s soiled diaper.” Instead, this chicks rich-as-Satan parents decided to dump money into studio time, a freelance videographer, and whoever the old black dude is who dropped the hook that literally may have murdered Nate Dogg, today. What a sell-out. And Jalen Rose thinks Grant Hill is an “Uncle Tom.”

CHARLIE SHEEN’S EX IS BI-LOSING, OBVIOUSLY

Kacey Jordan, the porn star who joined Charlie Sheen in his epic January booze and cocaine bender that landed him in the hospital, may have attempted suicide. Jordan posted a series of suicidal tweets on Twitter Monday night from her Chicago hotel. “Those 16 hours i was with charlie sheen . . . messed me up . . . i can’t get that image out of my head . . . i think i keep trying to feel his pain,” she wrote.”I took a bunch of pills . . . drank a hotel size bottle of jack [Daniels whiskey],” she wrote in another tweet that sparked her followers to send cops to the Peninsula Hotel.

Classic porn star move. This is right out of the “Dirty Whore” book. Even when you’re a porn star, and you’re getting paid in Aston Martins by the Sheen to do drugs, have sex and be a rock star from Mars, there’s a certain code of conduct to follow. You don’t rat out the Sheen for his recent, now-epic drug binge. You had your sex, you got your car, now shut up and be gone. But no, you have to cling to greatness. Trying to ride those golden coattails into legitimate porn star status, because the only thing worse than being a porn star, is being a porn star no one had ever heard of. “Those 16 hours… really messed me up… I think i keep trying to feel his pain…” Seriously, toots?! Feel his pain? Charlie couldn’t feel pain even if he weren’t more numb than an icicle on novocaine due to decades of cocaine abuse, because he’s too busy winning! Now pick yourself up off that cold bathroom floor. Nobody is buying it.

This story just made me so angry I need some Rosie Jones…

... with an automatic rifle.

And that brings us to the end of yet another successful Smorgasblog! Who knew Rosie Jones would start and finish it? Okay, maybe we all did.

Stay tuned…



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The SmorgasBlog

October 20, 2010

The jigga whatttt, Colt? That’s right, today, I’ve got too much absurd stuff to drop lines on. So, I’m combining these smaller blog ideas into one, all you can eat, smorgasblog. Today’s topics range from the newest celebrity babies, to “wear purple day,” to the newest American Political Party. I may or may not even lust over Rosie Jones.

Who? This chick below…and you knew whether I actually lusted over her the rest of the smorgasblog, you were getting to see the goods.

I read her bio and flinched at “Born in 1990…” Once I did the math, it was love.

Without further ado… THE SMORGASBLOG! (Numbered for no reason of importance)

1- Move Over, Suri Cruise

It’s official. After some unconfirmed and completely made up tales of pregnancy, reports today verified that Beyonce is carrying the fruit of Jay Z’s loins. I honestly never thought I’d write “the fruit of Jay Z’s loins” in a serious sentence, so what just happened was pretty neat for me, personally. Anyway, Hov’s loin fruit decided to get all up inside Beyonce’s egg loins and they mixed up a pre-natal celeb-baby.  Presently residing underneath Beyonce’s now-perfectly toned abdomen, but soon-to-be covered in cocoa butter baby bump, the little, currently genderless embryo, will eventually be rocking fresh baby Jordans, khakis with a cuff and a crease, and a crisp Rocawear button-up. (That sentence had a ton of commas. I’m not positive if it’s grammatically correct, but it seemed to read okay upon second look). Unless it becomes a chick. In which case she may be dressed in a flashy onesie… like this…

Will Gaga be the Godmother? Not if this baby wants a chance in life.

The only other question remaining is how soon this child will be turned into a musical icon. Rev Run’s son is rapping up a storm (not the older son who thought he could rap but sucked, the little one who actually can rap). Will Smith’s daughter, Willow, is like six (editor’s note: she’s 9) and already has a hit single called “Whip My Hair.” Which is musical proof that a celebrity’s child can essentially burp, vomit and poop into a microphone, and producers will mix in a hook and beat to make it a top-ten iTunes download. So, the sky is the limit for the child of two music legends like Jay and B.

Sidenote: That’s the last time I’m referencing either Jay-Z or Beyonce in this blog, so I went with “Jay” and “B” just to sound cool. It’s like when one of those super white hipster MTV VJs morph into Eminem’s cousin when a rapper comes on for an interview. Suddenly, they are saying stuff like, “Fo sho, Drake, that latest track about being right above it was tighttttt. Like, you straight murdered those lyrics and left them for dead. I didn’t know you were about to get up in it like THAT.” Followed by Drake laughing in said VJs face and mumbling to himself  “this crazy ass white boi right here.”

This pictoral blog break brought to you by Rosie Jones, again.

I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of Rosie in this SmorgasBlog. Because the writing is average at worst.

2. Wear Purple Day

If you’re reading this on… (seriously, who knows the date nowadays, it seems so inconsequential. Wait, maybe that’s only for us underemployed) hold on let me check… October 20th, 2010 then you may or may not be wearing purple. You almost may or may not have heard that today if you wore purple, you were supporting teens struggling with homosexuality, or you were a homosexual. Right about now, you could have some extremely mixed feelings. Don’t worry I’m here to help with this quick breakdown of what your outfit today meant.

IF YOU WORE PURPLE TODAY

1- And knew about “Wear Purple Day”

You = supporter of, or actually are, homosexual.

2- And did not know about “Wear Purple Day”

You = accepted by the Gay community. Unfortunately, many people may have come to some assumptions about you that are not warranted. If people of your same sex were being particularly confrontational/happy, they probably mistook you for gay. Kind of like how Ryan Seacrest feels every day.

IF YOU DID NOT WEAR PURPLE TODAY:

1- And knew about “Wear Purple Day”

You= Disapproved of by the gay/friends of gay community. You may just be a straight male who simply doesn’t own a purple shirt, because, well, you’re a straight male. Or, you felt as though wearing a rainbow colored shirt would be more cause-appropriate.

2- And did not know about “Wear Purple Day”

You= Disapproved of by the gay/friends of gay community, even though you may or may not have worn purple had you known about the day.

I know! This whole day seems like a mess of ambiguity and unless proper “Wear Purple Day”s are coordinated in the future, I think the gay community should stick to their ostentatious parades that leave no doubt as to who is gay, and who supports the gays.

 

If anyone could straighten things out, Rosie could. That pun may or may not have been intended.

3- The Rent is Too Damn High Party

No, seriously. I’m going to let Jimmy McMillan present his parties platform to you in person.

Aside from the fact that this guy is obviously insane, lies the inconvenient fact that Jimmy McMillan does not pay rent. Back in the 80s he stopped paying his landlord for his 800-a-month flat in exchange for doing handiwork around the landlords property. Clearly, this hurts some of the credibility Jimmy has in his plight to run as the people’s candidate. It’s the sort of ironic combination that occurs only in America. Like how Carrot Top is a “Comedian,” or Adrian Grenier is an “Actor.”

4- The Newest Big D Nuts Girl

Only in the UK! Just when we thought Carls Jr. commercials with babes in bikinis washing cars was bad… Big D Nuts of the UK brings us… you guessed it… ROSIE JONES! The woman who has guided you through your first Smorgasblog is actually the latest model for the British company that offers, “the nation’s best loved pub snack. Big D offers cheeky nut treats for anyone who is nuts about snacking!” You have to respect a company that has combined their product, with their name so symbiotically. What “Big D Nuts Guy” wouldn’t love this girl?

You guessed it... you can find her topless on Google.

Well that sure was fun. The SmorgasBlog will probably appear in the Revolver in the future. Rosie probably will, too. Thanks for reading. Stay tuned…




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Hot Chicks and QBs: The American Dream

October 12, 2010

You knew it would happen soon enough. With the regularity of athlete and celebrity cellphone dong shots on the rise faster than our national debt, it simply became a matter of when. Earlier this week, the media finally reported the story that broke in late August, but nobody seemed to want to cover. Back in 2008, Brett Favre had one of those tingly feelings 4th grade boys get during PG-13 sex scenes and decided to take action. After some desperate voicemails, the rocket-armed QB decided to put his thumbs to the test. While the then-Jets star was rocking out with his cockpit out, Favre fired off a barrage of cell phone shots. Aside from the national embarrassment of having millions of people know that Brett is manning a single-engine Cessna, rather than a 747, he is now dealing with a potential family-ruining scandal similar to Tiger Woods (without all the blonde pornstars).

 

"I can't bare to read the rest of the blog. Go easy on me, Colt."

 

Thankfully, the story only gets better. Back in 2005, I was a hopeful sports broadcaster watching a FSU football game during my freshman year of college. While the cameras panned frenzied fans, it settled on a brunette in a cowboy hat and maroon bikini top. Brent Musberger, the announcer at the time calmly announced “1500 red-blooded Americans just decided to apply to Florida State.” Check out the video, here.

Brent was absolutely wrong. 1500 was far too conservative an estimate of how many red-blooded American boys (and by red-blooded, I think Brent meant fully-aroused) applied to FSU that fall because of Sterger. Had this game been a year earlier, I would have undoubtedly done the same. Life dreams could wait as long as I got to attend sporting events with girls dressed like that! Sure enough, the wonders of the internet made the girl a complete sensation. Jenn Sterger, as we came to find out her name, parlayed her brief cameo on national television into being the best thing on the internet since “David Goes to the Dentist”. Because this is America, she easily transitioned from “hot chick” to “famous hot chick since her boobs were hanging out during a sporting event.” Playboy spread, CHECK. Maxim spread, CHECK. Job working for the New York Jets as the in-stadium announcer, CHECK. Getting cell phone pictures of arguably the NFL’s greatest Quarterback’s “short post, double hook ins” CHECK.

 

Google Images only brings up about a million pictures of her. This is just my favorite.

 

Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have written about this if Sterger wasn’t involved. Brett Favre, on his own, sucks. His shaft shots are even worse. But then Sterger gets involved and makes this a legitimately amazing story. You almost can’t blame Favre. Here’s a girl who dressed up like a stripper about to hit the stage for college football games. Why wouldn’t she want to hook up with a multi-millionaire and one of the biggest names in the NFL? Well, because sometimes, in the rarest Haley’s Comet-style scenarios, girls who seem to be whores, are really just teases who pride themselves on blue-balling guys. In this case, that guy was the NFL’s all-time leader in yards, touchdowns and retirements. Sure, she could have hooked up with him and kept it a secret, but she’s an attention craving smokeshow who is still trying desperately to make a career out of being just that. Banging Brett Favre would have been a good story to tell friends, but it wouldn’t throw her back in the national spotlight.

 

 

::Obligatory Jenn Sterger Picture::

 

Now, there’s just a BP sized mess left to be cleaned up. Favre is married with kids. Sterger is single and retardedly hot. Favre might get suspended by his employer, the NFL. We don’t care who Sterger’s employer is, because she’s so hot. Favre will probably get divorced. Sterger will probably marry for money. Favre could use an implant. Sterger already has two big ones. The parallels could not be more polar. Thankfully, there’s one thing everyone can agree upon. This whole story reeks of the American dream. Little girls everywhere dream of becoming famous because they are hot and bring almost nothing else to the table. Little boys dream of becoming the star quarterback and pulling the smoking hot girls cheering them on. Thankfully, through the wonders of technology, and creepy sexting, these budding relationships can be turned into tabloid stories for the rest of eternity. When they do, we’ll always remember the Favre-Sterger tale. Okay, maybe not. But we’ll always remember Jenn Sterger: that smoking hot piece of tail.

 

 

You can find her naked through Google Images... you know, if you're into that sort of thing...

 

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Fall TV Already Loses a Legend, So I Preview the Rest

September 22, 2010

Last night, the geriatric fan club watching ABC’s Dancing With the Stars voted off an early childhood hero of every 20-30 year-old male. We all remember him sprinting the beach with his perfectly formed curly-mullet-in-its-pre-natal stages. Barking out orders to some of the hottest sets of breasts held within spandex swimwear ever seen on television (Pam Anderson, Yasmine Bleeth just to name two of those sets of breasts), this guy showed everyone how to save lives and look good doing it. His name, as you all know, is David Hasselhoff.

Do They hit the Chin? Judges Ruling: Yes.

The Hoff has since turned into a caricature of himself, getting wasted and eating cheeseburgers in hilarious home videos, getting wasted some more, and in general, just being drunk. But, he was given a chance to redeem himself on this season’s DWTS, and the losers who actually sit and watch B, C and D list celebrities attempt to dance well, voted him off. Just when I was going to give this insanely vapid show a chance, the people of America saved me from turning into a loser like the rest of them. So I guess I should be happy.

Thankfully, for the puposes of this blog post, I do watch cool shows that other cool Americans watch, too. So, without further ado, I bring you my fall TV preview of the shows I may or may not watch, and why (editor’s note: Monday shows are generally off limits due to Monday Night Football).There are five for each category, because for the most part, I watch too many sports to watch more than that.

WHAT I WON’T WATCH

Dancing With the Stars: Read above.

Glee: I decided to pick everybody’s favorite show to lead off my “Won’t Watch” list because, the show basically sucks. Sure, you get a bunch of misfit high schoolers performing remixes of today’s hits. But you also get horrible plot lines, stereotypes, and a show that hyped itself up as funny, but will not evoke one laugh from someone who understands humor. It seems if you just make a high school show consisting of: awkward drama chick who is actually super hot, super hot cheerleader, big jock who secretly wants to sing and dance like a fairy, an over-the-top fairy who overtly wants to sing and dance like one, a huge black chick, an AZN with feelings towards the handicapped, and a handicapped kid who sings and rolls in dance formation, you’ve got a hit! So go ahead and watch, if you’re a fan of bad stereotypes like that rolled into a musical.

Gossip Girl: Leighton Meester almost makes me watch, but then I realize she’ll probably start talking, so I just google image her. Blake Lively talks out of the side of her mouth and is a mumbler, and I’m not down with that. The guys are all more metro than the last. Oh, and they are all loaded and struggle with absurd issues nobody should really care about. Chuck Bass is played by the worst actor since

Ugh, Leighton, you almost had me with that eye-f*ck, then you said hello...

Robert Pattinson, and looks eerily similar. So apparently, dudes who look like Vampires suck at acting and speak in whispers. Obviously, for all the above reasons, tons of chicks watch this show and its mostly because girls don’t like sports, and replace that section of their brain with the mind-numbing crap known as gossip. But, you already knew what this show was about from it’s title. XOXO- I’m not watching.

The Vampire Diaries: Fortunately, I know nothing about this show. I was just looking at a list of network TV shows and saw this one and got really upset. Dear America, please stop with the Vampire crap. They do not, nor will they ever, exist within our everyday life. True Blood sucks. Twilight is working towards becoming the most successful, absolutely horrible saga in Hollywood history, and now there’s this piece of trash brought to you by the CW (Editor’s Note: the CW also airs Gossip Girl).

Two and a Half Men: Should change the title of its show to “Two Men and a Fat Kid Who Hit Puberty and Tried Getting Skinny, But Now He’s Skinny-fat.” And everyone just nodded in understanding of the term “skinny-fat.” You’re better off just being fat. This show just kind of sucks in general. It’s not awful, I guess.

Sometimes, you can't hide your inner fat kid.

It’s definitely not good, though, because really how many weird sexual innuendo jokes can Charlie Sheen deliver to an assembly line of smoking hot girlfriends while his sexually-confusing brother, who comes off as gay, but I guess isn’t, makes fun of him?

WHAT I WILL WATCH!

Eastbound and Down: TV’s best-kept secret is back! For the cult following who tuned into HBO’s gem of a comedy starring Kenny F%*&ing Powers, the ex-MLB player turned substitute teacher, they were given arguably the funniest show on television. This season, Kenny is taking his hilarious mullet to Mexico for an attempted comeback. All you really need to know about this show is Kenny Powers outlook on becoming a champion: “A true champion, face to face with his darkest hour, will do whatever it takes to rise above. A man fights, and fights, and then fights some more. Because surrender is death, and death is for pussies.”

You're gonna watch, aren't you?

Modern Family: Covers every aspect of, what a shock, the modern american family. Whether its nuclear, two gay guys adopting an Asian girl and naming her Lilly, which has to be the number one name given to little Asian girls adopted by two gay guys, or an old rich dude who marries a super fine Columbian chick, this show has it covered in awesome fashion. Just watch the show and be happy. Even if you think it sucks, Sofia Vergara will make you happy (guys).

30 Rock: Alec Baldwin and Tracey Morgan kill it in this comedy, based on a Saturday Night Live-like TV show. Baldwin is the ultra-rich, ultra Conservative, ultra cool as shit middle-aged guy who does whatever he wants in life, NBC executive. Morgan basically plays his real-life self as his character is even named Tracey Jordan. And come on, Tracey Morgan’s real-life self is way funnier than any of his previous roles, which makes this one awesome. Tina Fey plays her usual never-gets-laid, always finds loser guys, quirky type and the rest of the ensemble cast all work well. The hilarious religious guy from Forgetting Sarah Marshall is also a hilarious religious country-bumpkin on here, too. Looking back at this review, every character just kind of plays their type-casting, but the show is legit.

Parks and Recreation/Community: Well, they play back-to-back on NBC, and on their own, they aren’t great, so I broke the rules and put them as one show. Aziz Ansari steals Parks and Rec from every other character. If you don’t think you know who Aziz Ansari is, you do. He’s the funny indian guy who plays that in every movie he’s been in. He’s also a hilarious stand-up comic, so Youtube him or something. Community is just a decent show about a group of people taking classes at a Community College. Chevy Chase sucks in it, but most of the other characters are good, and the last 30 seconds after the credits and before the show ends are arguably the best part. But that isn’t a bad thing. At least I don’t think.

Big Bang Theory: With its move off the Monday Night block, I get to watch this more than I would have before. Since it’s on Thursdays now, I will DVR one of the other Thursday Night-watch listers and laugh at the nerd humor of Big Bang Theory. Based on a bunch of rocket scientists and their funny geek obsessions like Magic the Gathering, Lord of the Rings, and every comic book, ever. The star of this show is the most detached, socially retarded of all these geeks, Sheldon. This lanky dork would probably get laughed at by me in real-life, but on the show, I laugh with him. Basically, he just pwns n00bs on the reg, and I dig it.

BONUS SHOW: The League

Essentially, its every cool group of college guys, grown up, playing fantasy football. Much like Eastbound and Down, everybody who tuned into this shows premiere last year got lucky, because it might be the second funniest show on TV. Obviously, I watch the second funniest show on TV about fantasy football. So, you probably should, too.

Sofia, again. Because I know you were gonna google "Sofia Vergara Bikini Pics" as soon as you stopped reading the blog.