Nicky just wants to get a rich dude and drink beach drinks. And eat/not eat pork. And wear/not wear hipster glasses from the Russian Claire's Boutique. I'm not really sure if this video is real life or not, but I don't really give an eff. Nicky is the voice of our generation, because who is REALLY sure which faux fir vest they want to wear??? Not I, world. Do ringtones still exist? This is all too much. I need a drink.
You're welcome. I just gave you a reason to get your party started.
Warning: C Stodd drops several effs in this video, so watch it with headphones, or something, if you are at work. Or turn it the hell up if you work somewhere that embraces yelling eff super loud. (Can you pick up an app for me if that's the case?)
Here's my favorite teenage dream, pretending to be her (Emo? Hipster? Rocker? Hot Topic employee?) sister, Courtland. She's been making these weird videos of her "sisters" lately, which I'm afraid is turning into some creepy role play game. Homegirl MIGHT need to pick up a couple of part-time shifts at Subway or something. She seems bored, and I'm concerned. And why 30 seconds of this video is spent in an "I'm giving birth" pose, I am not quite sure. But at least Stods has a sense of humor about her...life. Okay, now I feel sadness.
This is apparently from some show on Syfy that I really should be watching, because this sh*t is straight comedy. The dude in the Tommy Bahama shirt is supposed to be "transforming" into a werewolf right before our very eyes. Sir, please. That mess is lame as eff. You are doing a hulk impression, pawing the ground, and letting out a half-assed howl. No. But the best part is after he's back to being a totally reg human and he's all, "Oh, damn. What time is it? Werewolf time flies when you're having fun. I've got a haircut in ten minutes."
Imma need a LOT more wine if you want me to start getting on this nonsense train. No.
Before we start talking about the horrendousness that is this "music" video, be warned. This crap is completely NSFW, and not even because it says eff like forty times (which it does), but more for the ear drum safety of those around you.
When I first got started on this hot ass, screamy mess, I thought I was in for some LMFAO-type of tom foolery blandess. Little did I know B's WERE GETTING THEIR FACES SCREAMED INTO FOR FOUR MINUTES. Why are you bringing innocent pig costumes into this fiasco? What did pseudo pigs ever do to your ass? And two of these "band members" did absolutely nothing (except OD on LA Looks hair gel, and possibly have a driver's license). Not even a scream-peep. Weak. And while we're on the whole hair thing, SOMEBODY'S been hitting up a BOGO hair bleach sale at Sally Beauty Supply. WHY. WHY DOES THIS EXIST? I would rather watch Darla all effin' day than these friggin' Tim "The Toolman" Taylor tool bags. (Sorry, Tim Allen. I have no beef with you. Except for maybe those Santa Clause movies.) But seriously, why are you screaming? It doesn't even make sense with the sh*tty song. I hope the home owners' association in your parents' neighborhood kicks them out for letting you film this sh*t in their driveway.
AKA Whaddup, beauty boxes? Do you know how hard it was for me to not make crude jokes in this b? I deserve an award, or something. Okay, enough -- let's take a tour.
This video was dubbed on YouTube as "the worst music video ever." After watching it roughly seven times, it has kind of become my anthem. It's like the modern day version of Aretha Franklin's "Respect," or something. And lucky for you, I have transcribed the happenings of the entire 4:18 of this diamond in the rough. YOU ARE WELCOME, world.
The first 30 seconds of this mess looks like an opening for a really, really, sh*tty Chicago-based soap opera. Then we see our heroine, looking most reminiscent of a younger, blonder, George Costanza's mother. In the next shot, we really get to see what homegirl is working with, and let me clue you in, sister, those pants are atrocious. It's like FUPAs were breeding with more FUPAs up in there. If it were legal to burn whatever material that makes up those pants, I would highly suggest it. After ANOTHER long shot of the Chicago skyline, our eyes can feast upon the romantic lead of the story. Now, we KNOW that he's a bad boy, because not only is he leather-clad and mulleted, but HE PARKS HIS MOTORCYCLE IN A "NO PARKING" AREA. Swoon city, party of one! Amiright?!? It's time of a little backstory -- we get a vignette of them walking together in matching outfits, with matching, puffy ass hair, and waving to pretend friends (adoring fans?), then riding off into the sunset late morning. Next we're back to the FUPA pants shot, with a possible Delorean sighting in the background, and we get a close up of the stone wall behind Darla (I don't know her name, but it fits). Oh, sike! Darla's back, and her face is more scrunched up than ever. Then we get: road warrior, more scenery filmed from a car window, and a payphone shot, complete with sexy leather gloves! Oh, Darla, it's "anymore" not "no more." Now fancy camera work. Uh oh? What do we have here? Darla's at the airport in her fancy ass limo? Why didn't the driver even carry her bags? And there she goes (we are supposed to assume), flying off to another exotic location. Where do you think she went? My guess is to Dubai to marry a super glamorous Sheik.
P.S. I just saw that Darla's name is really Jan. I'm going to suggest that you go ahead and change that, Jan. It's Darla, now.
My God, this is terrifying. I feel like I just escaped from 293,840 serial murders. WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? THIS SH*T IS YOUR BEST FIRST IMPRESSION??? Here are my thoughts, in order:
Oh hey, dude number one -- you can take off the effing weightlifting belt. You're sitting in a friggin' chair, ya douche.
No one named Maurice is a, a-hem, "wild man." (Except maybe the dad in Beauty and the Beast.)
BIG PHIL??? In comparison to what? Gross, don't answer that.
Hey "deep into the night" satin shirt, you can't even SIT UP for two minutes???
Mike, the anti-smoking dude, why did you pirouette a quarter turn? This isn't Glamour Shots. Or maybe it was. Like a two-for-one type deal...
LISTEN MAURICE, you don't own a tuxedo, and Men's Warehouse is NOT going to refund your deposit, so good luck with that.
WHY IS YOUR MOM WATCHING THIS, REINDEER SWEATER? You must feel pretty confident that you'll get a date in a timely manner, by wearing such a seasonal piece. Ballsy.
Best Hair Award has to go to "fashion photography." Did you see that volume? That length??
I wish an overgrown monster would effing eat your ass, crazy shirt.
Guy with the rose -- I'm going to vom. You don't even know WTF you're talking about. You. Are. The. Worst.
WHAT??? YOU GUYS ENJOY HAVING FUN? We have so much in common.
What is a hamster? Like literally, you don't like the pet rodent?
I can't even hate on suspenders. Get me that b*tch's number.
Cats AND domestic violence? That's a tall order. (P.S. Doesn't domestic violence/sexual abuse look like Bruce Jenner?)
"I average four hours a night's sleep. The rest of the time I am murdering people."
I might really be in love with reindeer sweater. He's got some strong to quite strong ass eye contact.
I refuse to even acknowledge the viking.
Why were the 80's so effing terrible? I'd rather do a Garbage Pail Kid than any of these dicks. (Except you, reindeer sweater. You's a keeper.)
Bill Dollear, just effing marry me, you son of a b. I have seriously NEVER laughed so hard at someone's lofty, broken ass dreams as I did just now. I am truly a heartless, cold b*tch, but this ish is hilarious. Sorry, Bill -- call me. You can hang your tarp in my garage/car port/rec room whenever you want. Oh, and I'm pregnant.
P.S. WHO THE EFF IS REPRESENTING THIS PERSON? HOW DOES THIS EXIST???
UPDATE: If you can't get enough, and you are wearing Depends adult diapers and have some eye drops handy, please watch Gary Murphy. (B doesn't blink ONCE. Like, ever.) Oh, and language is NSFW on this one, because GARY IS A BOSS.
No matter your religious beliefs/non beliefs, today I am presenting you with the world's worst present. These are the lovely Gold Diggin Divas, and this is their international hit, "Codependent." Listen to me with your now insulted ears. There are several issues with this mess. Number one, you can't just take a very popular rap song, change a couple of letters, and call it your own. Number two, you girls can get a library card for free (no black card needed) and hit up the dictionary section, because I don't think you know what codependent means. From WebMD (those b's know it all): “Codependency, by definition, means making the relationship more
important to you than you are to yourself. It’s kind
of a weird phrase, and it doesn’t sound like it means a one-sided
relationship. But that’s what it is. It means you’re trying to make the
relationship work with someone else who’s not.”
Yep, not at all what you are "rapping" about. It's kind of the opposite of your intentions. Oh sh*t, today must be opposite day, you guys. It's been a hot minute for me, so I guess I was just rusty on the rules of OD. Now, I'm off to get my cootie shot.
Wait...So is this a ghost story? I am completely and totally jealous of every single effin' person in this video. The late 80's/early 90's were so equal parts magical and disgusting, weren't they? They were the best of times, they were the worst of times. And if that's what it's like to be a construction worker, sign my ass up. I didn't realize that strong choreography was a job requirement.
Why can't this dude "YOOOOUP" twerk it up in a circle for my birthday? Dammit, Aaron. You're such a damn good gift giving hog. But for real, that was really weird. Why did that man have to wear a skirt? Why did that man have to then lift the skirt? Why do old people love wearing socks and awkward shoe combos? BUT REALLY, WHY DID HE HAVE TO LIFT THE SKIRT???
This is my dog, Wiggy, and we both usually think that everything is the worst, so it just seems apropos at this point. (And, yes, I made a meme of my own dog. Get off my junk.) But you know what isn't the worst? Tickling baby penguins named Cookie.
See, everything ended up okay in the end. Now we won't all be hearing "YOOOOUP" in our dreams, and envisioning undergarments that just can't be unseen.
Apparently this little boy's stage name is "Little Fear," and he has been dancing with the Tampa Bay Buc's cheerleaders this season. My ass hates sports, so I was left completely unaware that there was a little dude that lives in my area that can werk it like a mofo. I've never been so jealous of a young boy.
Remember when I asked you guys for your beauty problems? Well, it wasn't because I'm a nosy ass b. I'm solving your issues, in a new segment I'm calling "Problem Solvers!" Watch and see hilarity not ensue.
What the hell did I just watch? Why did this have to be filmed two hours from my house? What is happening with Travolta's hair helmet? Does he understand that 50 somethings (or anyone, really) shouldn't be wearing and utilizing chain wallets? Did the soldier guy even know the cop? What grade school Audio/Visual Club shot this video? Should someone tell those children to omit this tragedy from their resume? Since when is doing a jazz square repeatedly considered dancing?
But I really love Mariah's "All I want for Christmas is You." And this rendition with Jimmy Fallon and The Roots is pretty effin' awesome. Plus, the little girl with the glittery flower on her head is totally my soul sister. All the other kids are staring into the camera the whole time and she's like, "I'm just performing for myself. These other kids are so needy." Plus, there was this...
The side eye that she's giving this boy is awesome. She's all, "What the eff is this kid doing? Friggin' amateurs. What is this, a Barney table read? I've really got to talk to my agent about this mess." She is amazing.
And the fact that Mariah looks like she's wearing star pasties is definitely helping the situation. Faux dress pasties are always a plus in my book. Now let's reflect our younger years with the OG version.
Okay, holiday mode is off again, unless Ryan Gosling rides up to my house on a unicorn in a Santa suit...Side saddle style.
My case of the sads is almost to overpowering to even make fun of this sh*t. (I said ALMOST, b's.) I'm not going to lie, I've watched this about seven times. And I'm confused about many a thing here, mainly, why this video even exists. Do we really need a tutorial on how to mix cheese and canned chili together and microwave it? Or the least effective way to open a bag of chips? Who exactly is this gentleman, and can I get yo' number? AAAAAND who taught him how to stir stuff? AAAAAND can I be part of your small group?
I really don't even have anything to say, except that if the man even needs someone to come to his basement apartment to watch reruns of The Facts of Life, I'll meet you there. At least I know what we'll be eating. And now, I have to go...
I would like to start out by saying that I originally typed "food" instead of "good" when I typed that title. Howngray b, party of one? But seriously, young bucks, is this supposed to be a good song? Am I supposed to be poppin' that ass to this? I'm confused. And hungry, and then more confused. And also have a strong case of the olds.
P.S. I WANT to like this mess. I mean, it's called CAKE for God's sake. (Nursery rhymes, be damned.)
I've found my new jam to twerk it to, you guys. This is Nicole Westbrook, and she wants you to know that it's Thanksgiving. I don't even know what the story is here, but I do kind of want that dude's turkey hat. But seriously, are we just letting kids do whatever the eff they want to these days? (Sh*t, I'm old.)
