Seems that forklifts are killing machines that have a thirst for blood. No, really! A Norwegian safety video says that it’s so! And everyone knows that Norwegians can’t lie.

Enjoy.

Lesson learned : Never, ever trust a co-worker named Brian. It can’t lead to anything good…just accidents and bastard children.

I do wonder what the Hell this company does. Why is EVERYONE just wandering about what appears to be a parking lot all day? Or is that a common place to work in Scandinavia?

Rachael vs. Guy : Celebrity Cook-Off.

Why would I watch such a thing? I mean, it sounds like a harbinger of the apocalypse. I was really, REALLY bored. Honestly, the very idea of watching an hour of television featuring Rachael Ray (the inescapable media juggernaut who just won’t go away) and Guy Fieri (the terrifying spiky blonde haired guy from Diners, Drive ins and Dives who wears sunglasses indoors more frequently than alcoholics) sounded about as fun as being kicked in the nuts. Really? Those two NEED more TV time, do they? Fuck. I defy you to look at this photo and not immediately hate these people :

Did I mention that I was exceptionally bored?

So, I figured it would help me burn off a few minutes before I went to bed. But that initial plan began to change when I saw the list of ‘celebrities’. This list of people may as well be titled ‘PLEASE LOOK AT ME, WORLD!’ The scent of desperation permeating that studio most likely resembled the sick sweat off of an ill person having a fever dream. There are A celebrities and B celebrities and so on : these people are beneath the alphabet scale. Their celebrity is too miniscule to be associated in any way with literacy and language.

Lou Diamond Phillips is in the house, and still introducing himself as a star of the Young Guns movies. First off, you are most often remembered as ‘that guy who played the Indian’ when someone brings up those films. Second, the sequel came out in 1990. Time to move on, Lou…audiences certainly have. He informs us that he’s also a self appointed foodie. Sure, and I am a self appointed fighter pilot. How neat for us.

Cheech Marin is here, because Cheech will seemingly do pretty much anything that puts him in front of a camera for 5 minutes. It’s only a matter of time before he’s on late night ads, wearing a sombrero and poncho combo while ratcheting up the Mexican accent and imploring everyone to check out ‘Beaner Bennie’s Burrito Castle’ on Elmore and 5th.

Joey Fatone. If N Sync were a new version of the Goonies, he was certainly the Chunk of the group.

Summer Sanders. Apparently she was an Olympic swimmer. If the audience needs to be told why you’re a celebrity, you aren’t one.

Coolio. He was a terrible rapper, and now he’s apparently a terrible cooking show host.  Yes, there is a Cookin With Coolio channel on Youtube. It is more annoying than ‘An Evening with Gilbert Gottfried’.

Some Miss USA somebody or something. Honestly, does anyone remember any of these people, ever?

Taylor Dayne. I sorta kinda knew that she did music I think maybe. She is now one of the many women who have decided that the concept of aging is so horrifying that they would rather pay some dude a few grand to make them look like a swollen burn victim. Congratulations, you are only employable as a sideshow attraction…as your attendance here proves.

And as the 8th member of the cast…

Aaron Carter. Briefly tried to have a music career, but basically just spent his formative years known as the younger brother of a Backstreet Boy. Well, he has apparently spent the time since developing several new hobbies, like resembling a weasel, smoking a crack pipe and AIDS. Seriously. There are people with rickets that are the picture of health next to this guy.

Okay, so they break in to teams and face their first challenge : preparing food for the 150 people attending the first ever Celebrity Cook Off Food Festival. I can only guess that the attendants were all homeless people desperate for a meal.

So, they brainstorm up ideas. And when I say brainstorm, I mean that Rachael and Guy pretty much tell these people what their theme is. And what themes! Guy reaches way deep in to the brain and pulls out…MEXICAN! Apparently that’s a theme. Rachael shows that she apparently spent the pre show period drinking heavily, because her suggestion is the senseless and incomprehensible ‘Hot in the City’. And these are the experts, people.

Lou actually seems like he can cook, and he decides to make ribs. Aaron steps up big and suggests macaroni salad. This is followed by crickets as everyone waits for a moment to see if he’s serious. When it becomes apparent that he is, It’s suggested that he go with a version that would become part pasta salad and part jalapeno popper, which sounds less appetizing to me than a bag of rock salt, but anyway…

Aaron seems confused at the concept of charring jalapenos. Lou expresses concern.

So anyway, they all spend time cooking. It’s all pretty boring except for Aaron, who is shocked to discover he has to make ranch dressing. Watching him puzzle out the right ingredients was like watching a monkey learn to use a keyboard. I mean, it’s just hammering on keys and probably humping them, but that totally counts right? Since Aaron’s initial batch includes sour cream, vinegar and Thousand Island dressing (because you always see salad dressing comprised of other dressings…), he wasn’t much more successful than the wannabe stenographer ape.

And then it’s time for the showdown! The poor bastards nabbed to eat this shit (likely at gunpoint) shuffle through and subject themselves to the food on offer. The two teams provide entertainment which was so unmemorable that I flat out cannot remember what it was. Aaron is very pleased with himself and tells everyone that he made the ranch dressing, apparently missing people retching, hurling and collapsing to the ground with the shakes just a few feet from his stand.

And in the end, Lou is the winner…apparently, the crowd judged his ribs to be awesome. This seems unlikely, since the people were simply putting checkmarks next to the team whose food they had judged to be the best, but who am I to question the solemn word of such esteemed judges as Fieri and Ray?

The losers were Taylor Dayne and Aaron Carter. They had ten minutes to prepare a dish for the judges, and were told at that point that their secret ingredient was : shrimp! Taylor went and got a pan. Aaron looked frightened.

And the time is up and they each present their dishes, and what followed were some of the best moments in television history. Rachael and Guy had to eat whatever shit these two conjured up and do their best to pretend that it wasn’t the worst thing since Hitler. They weren’t very successful.

Taylor fried up some shrimp with a few ingredients and served them on a lettuce leaf so large that it might be attacking Tokyo at this very moment. This thing didn’t dwarf the plate that it was on, it pinned it to the ground and had it’s horrible way with it. The best thing the judges could say, and I quote (yes, I remember their words. They were so awesomely funny that I can’t forget them) :

“I really like that she used cracked black pepper.”

Truly it is only the culinary greats who are capable of operating a pepper mill. But that wasn’t the highlight. No no, the pinnacle was to come as they sampled Aaron’s shrimp dish and Guy’s words were :

“I appreciate how he really tried to get it in to the bowl.”

I shit you not. That is what he said. When the best thing someone can say about the food you’ve prepared is that you nearly succeeded in putting it properly in to a serving dish, it is safe to say that you have failed. SHOCKINGLY, Aaron was sent packing while Taylor was allowed to stay and continue in the competition where she is a shoo in to terrify the most children.

There was another episode, but I skipped it…there are apparently limits to what even I will watch. Besides, Aaron Carter’s stupidity was the comic core of that thing.

UPDATED : Forget what I claimed about limits, because I watched part of what I think was episode 3 last night. Wow.

The challenge? Prepare desserts including such wacky ingredients as wasabi and anchovies for special judges. Doesn’t that sound delightful?

The judges? 15 students from ‘an accredited pastry school’. Yes, students. The instructors more than likely took one look at an appearance request and laughed their ass off. And no, we don’t ever find out which ‘accredited pastry school’ is involved. So either they refused to have their good name associated with this (but still wanted some Food Network money in the coffers) or it was one of those ‘Learn any skill through correspondence! Become a nurse, airline pilot or registered sex offender today through our online courses!’ like the University of Phoenix. And you don’t want something like that associated with such greats as Guy Fieri (a man who apparently serves pulled pork in a rice roll and calls it sushi at his restaurant) and Rachael Ray (whose show is often filled with instructions like ‘open up the can…’)!

The results? Hilarity. Both coaches again told their teams what to do, and both had the same orders : to make wasabi/anchovy related cannolis, which I’m sure had the greater Italian populace gesticulating angrily at the screen while bellowing “Ay yo!” Joey Fatone (who yet again incorporated his last name in to the dish, calling it the Fat One Wasabi Cannoli or something to that effect. He did the same thing in the previous episode I watched. The man has the creativity of a plate) was railroaded in to producing one for Team Ray. It made several judges weep. Actually, physically weep a bit. AND HE DIDN’T END UP IN THE SURVIVAL CHALLENGE.

Instead, Summer Sanders and what’s her name the Miss USA chick ended up squaring off in a battle to produce…SALMON. Summer won, despite serving a salmon salad featuring a big steak of fish that, in her words, “Really isn’t cooked, so I don’t know what the judges will think.” They didn’t really get in too much on what the other woman made, but I can only assume that she squatted over the dish and served the judges a big dump dressed up in salad greens to lose to something that wasn’t even cooked right.

I was wrong. While Aaron Carter’s lack of presence was certainly felt, this show is still goddamn funny without him. I’m going to have to keep watching. I can’t stop…it’s so beautifully bad. And best of all is the disappointment registered on the faces of Ray and Fieri whenever they’re contractually obligated to taste something.

So anyway, my punishment. I didn’t know anything about this game until I loaded it up a few short minutes ago. What I saw horrified, and possibly partially blinded, me. I played 4 stages and was simply unable to go any further due to the very real risk of choking to death on vibrant colors. Think I’m exaggerating? Feast your eyes upon the loading screen :

The eye assault here is like accidentally walking in to the Barbie isle at a Toys R Us store and finding yourself with the sudden urge to retch. Doubling the horror is the realization that I will be playing some Japanime character…I’ve seen what happens to little girls in Japanime…I’m burning my computer to the ground at the first sign of a tentacle.

Okay, that horror is off the screen, and now ACKTHEREISNOGOD!

I suppose it should be uplifting that the blind are now developing games. There is simply no way that anyone with the use of their eyes would ever create something that monstrous, unless perhaps a re-animated Hitler has entered the games development business. I’m waiting for this awful color scheme to begin burning holes through my monitor. It looks like the result of a drunken Rainbow Brite dropping trou and taking a big, sloppy dump all over the screen.

Now, what you don’t get to experience is the 5th rate Japanese ‘Hey, my Casio has pre-programmed music settings!’ background tunes playing while this thing is taking up the screen. You’re really missing out. Okay, let’s play this fucking thing. I’m a man, I can deal with it, I’m tough…

Your big dream in life is to essentially work in a Rexall store? I mean, I guess it’s a step above where you probably should be : serving in a roadside diner, calling all the customers ‘hon’ while you deal with the bitter hatred you have towards life itself, the fact you’re 4 months pregnant again and your burning need for another half a dozen smokes.

And what’s this ‘haven’t been appointed’ shit? Go look for a job, ya lazy git! Oh look, the story isn’t over!

I hate this person. Maybe I can command her to keep swallowing the contents of random pill bottles until she collapses in to a pool of her own vomit?

Also, Lakeside City looks like a typical 5 house town from a children’s television show. So apparently you’ll be dealing with the pharmaceutical needs of puppets. Either that or the needs of those creepy (typically British) people who are far too enthusiastic about wearing costumes and hanging around kids, like super disturbing furry pedophiles. In that case, an OD really might be the best solution here.

I am already questioning how long I can deal with this, and the game hasn’t started yet. And this map scrolls. There are lots of towns, like Strawberry and Tentacular Buttfuck Junction.

This is the game. And I mean it…this is the entirety of the game. The target number at the bottom is how much I have to sell to customers. The clock next to it is how much time is left. The thermometer on the left measures the mood of customers, because apparently these impatient fucks get angry if they have to wait. And the various icons are the things we sell.

Now, I get the pill and the pill bottle. The question mark on the bottom is a medical reference book someone might ask for…I can actually understand why they wouldn’t trust me with questions on medication or ailments or any topic not related to the latest issue of Bop! magazine…then I get to stand there like a schmuck before they ask for something. Their money goes to the dollar sign cash register. The recycle area is where I drop a mistakenly picked up item, because we just throw drugs out in this world.

I have no explanation for why we’re selling teddy bears and clover, unless maybe there’s a big Irish furry market in Lakeside. Oh well, let’s see what Emo Peppermint Patty here wants.

Okay, so she’s currently reading the book. Those hearts next to her are her personal happiness rating, because mixing up two completely disparate symbols like hearts and a thermometer when both measure the same thing is just a fucking brilliant piece of design.

However, I would like to address my character’s professionalism at the moment. She’s dreamed of a pharmacy job, yet shows up for her first day in what appears to be a Sailor Moon outfit? Time to start learning how to operate a fry station, sweetie. Unless this pharmacy wants a gaggle of horny Japanese businessmen feverishly masturbating in the corner, you might want to put on something else.

HOLY SHIT! It’s 70s era Elton John! Perhaps we shouldn’t be selling pills to a notorious drug addict. Ah, whatever. He’s famous (and feeding his need for dope is sufficient punishment for writing Crocodile Rock) so  get this man his….teddy bear? Let’s not ask…

Didn’t…didn’t you just leave, Elton? Seriously buddy, it’s time to seek out some help. Though maybe if you OD now we can all be spared watching you whore yourself out to Disney.

Hey, I see you in the back of the line, Harry Potter! I’m not going to ask questions, you just enjoy your…clover.

HOLY SHIT! I just figured it out! This store is a front! These are all names of varieties of illegal drugs! Think about it, someone comes up to the counter and asks for some Teddy Bear…or perhaps some Lucky Clover…the ‘medical reference’ is probably just some sort of encoded price listing. I’m actually dealing out black tar heroin to a line full of young children. Step on up, kids!

Now we again face a problem with this game. See what looks a bit familiar…

Yep, him again. Emo Peppermint Patty is walking by the store again too, no doubt looking for new muff to dive in to after Marcie shocked everyone and started fucking Linus.

In the screen shots I’ve already put in this post, you have seen literally every single character model in the game. Apparently they were too busy coming up with awful musical scores to bother with anything resembling variety. So Elton John will buy enough dope to kill the real version of himself several hundred times over, and that joke eventually stops being funny. At least I’m told it stops being funny…

Anyway, it was time to cut off in-game Elton, because I didn’t need the cops asking questions after a famous pop star collapses and dies on the floor of the illicit drug operation that I’m a part of. I wouldn’t survive in prison, dammit…look how I dress in every day life!

It’s truly something when a game tackles serious issues like drug addiction. Here, Elton seems resigned to the knowledge that he has a problem. And as a lone tear runs down his cheek, I hide like a coward behind the recycling bin while pretending to work.

Actually, I had spent the previous 15 seconds or so repeatedly grabbing the pills he wanted, walking past him and dumping them in to the bin while he watched. Professionalism! If Elton packed a blade I’d be getting the ol’ Jack the Ripper treatment right now.

A couple of identical stages followed, but then I reached something new :

Yes indeed, if someone comes in for their desperately needed pain killers or what not, simply make them wait. Oh, is their heart meter running low? Placate them with sweets and they’ll be thrilled! Because nothing deals with serious health issues and the impatience of human beings in general like a nice caramel. Professionalism!

Whoever designed this game has some pretty serious issues with pharmacists.

This is quite late in the stage. Poor Peppermint Patty has been trying to dull her heartache with a cocktail of smack and pills from the beginning of the stage, but I just keep ignoring her wants. I fed her bon bons throughout the level, and every single time that pitiful and simple gesture was enough to placate her. Get some self esteem, for fuck’s sake! However, I began to grow concerned that constantly being fed treats by a ditz in a Sailor Moon outfit might lead to some confusion, so now I’m just out and out ignoring her. Not even hiding, I’m standing in plain sight and looking around while obviously having nothing better to do.

This is as far as I was able to go. I have already uninstalled this mess. This is the most garish piece of software that I have ever seen…the real 70’s Elton John would think this was garish. Liberace would tell you that the graphic design was a bit over the top. And I have a very low tolerance for bright neons in a miasma of shit combined with possibly the most annoying game music of all time, so I have admitted defeat. Seriously, it sucks balls.

Ack! All that fucking giggling! Think things are going well, idiots? I was a narc THE WHOLE TIME. You’re all about to get swept up in a massive bust and sent to a cell block for repeated forceful violation! Who’s laughing NOW, ass hats! AHAHAHA!

Until next time…

I know I said this during the whole Rebecca Black post, but I’ll say it again here because it is once again true : this is the worst fucking thing I’ve ever heard. It has bumped Friday down in to second place, and a distant second place at that. So be warned.

I had never actually heard a Justin Bieber song before this. Ever. I sort of wish that I could still say that. Today I was listening to the replay of Opie & Anthony (as I always do when computing in the evenings), and they were listening to (and angrily mocking) the live version of The Little Drummer Boy that Bieber had performed during the tree lighting ceremony at Rockefeller Center. There is nowhere to hide in a live environment. All those digital tricks and the like that you can use in a studio don’t work when you’re outside.

Justin Bieber is the single most talentless human being to ever make it big in the music industry.

EVER.

He can’t hold a note. His pathetic, reedy little voice has all the strength and muscle of a cell block ho. He doesn’t so much dance about the stage as look like a string marionette being operated by a crack head puppeteer having a seizure. He has the vocal range of a chair.

And then he tries rapping.

Whitey has never before sounded so goddamn pasty, weak and pathetic. It’s bad enough in the beginning as he’s spitting out that stupid ‘rum pum pum pum’ part with all the authority of a 6 year old who just shit his pants. Then, to make it worse, he starts trading verses and trying to throw down with Busta Rhymes.

It just hurts.

Enjoy!

A bit of background. Some time ago, Brad purchased for me as a joke the game Imagine : Champion Rider. It’s a stupid game about riding horses and dressing them up and stuff that I was to do a multi post AAR about. I had it planned out but I haven’t gotten to it, mostly because work has been horrible quite often of late. I need to be in a certain silly mode to properly corrupt and alter an adorable game for kids in to something horrible and wrong. So now he’s purchased me this…this…this thing. I haven’t really played it yet, so let’s all share in my first experiences with Cutesy! Aren’t we lucky…

So, we’re really doing this, eh? Sweet merciful crap. Look at that! It’s like the Barbie isle at Toys R Us began to exist as a corporeal being and it just jacked off all over the screen. And is it just me, or has that unicorn got some serious ‘come hither’ eyes going on? I suspect that if you buy this game for your daughter, you increase her chances of working the pole when she’s old enough to strip by a good 17%. You increase the chances of your son trying on mommy’s clothes well past the age when it’s cute by about 127,000%.

Let’s take a look at what I’m sure is a robust set of options before playing. I need my Cutesy experience optimized and taking full advantage of my system power!

I can only imagine that the credits exist as a list of potential targets to seek out for vengeance. And that audio…this game has sound design by Satan. I would rather listen to Yoko One shrieking for twenty minutes than the bizarre score that accompanies this monstrosity. It’s like a combination between ‘sweeping orchestral sounds’ and ‘a pile of shit’, all with the volume set way too high. And it actually comes off as a bit too dramatic, like maybe you’re wondering when Cutesy is going to unexpectedly get the whole Bambi’s mom treatment in vivid glory and leave you explaining the concept of death to your now weeping 6 year old.

Let’s actually load this game up.

Okay, there are 8 stages, seven of which are locked with little heart shape lockets that I want to smash with my growing rage. I choose the first…oooo, story mode or puzzle mode? Let’s try puzzle mode.

A game filled with sliding block puzzles. Fuck you, Brad. And the color palette…I wonder if the feeling of unease it gives me is something akin to what I’m sure someone would feel when being touched inappropriately by a Care Bear.

Now, allow me to point out how insanely easy this is. If you select a block, it shows you on the picture to the left where the damn thing goes! Small children are going to look at this simplicity with scorn, all while being deafened by the score and wondering if their parents believe they aren’t very bright. Maybe this game is the test to determine which bus you get to ride to school…

Also, I had to move maybe 4 blocks total to finish this. So, good for me I guess? My brain works on a most basic level! Huzzah! And I get a REWARD!

Stickers! No, not real stickers that you could actually put on things around the house and enjoy…make believe stickers. This is about as fun as make believe pie or make believe hot  22 year old with daddy issues she works out with lots and lots of sex. This is like baby’s first lesson that the world is a cruel place and you won’t often get what you want.

What the Hell that top middle sticker even is, I don’t know. What I DO know is that Cutesy doesn’t seem very happy with my accomplishments. Hey, I just put your fucking world back together, maybe get over the self pity for a minute and offer some thanks beyond fake stickers, Cutesy! Fucking emo unicorns…that’s all we need.

Okay, so puzzle mode is less challenging than eating a sandwich. Let’s see what experiences the full story mode offers.

#1 Who in the fuck is Bunty? I thought this game was called Cutesy? One word in and the narrative has lost me.

#2 If you’re unable to make friends despite having the ability to conjure up cupcakes at will, the problem is most definitely with you. Seriously, I don’t know if you have entitlement issues or something, but people are willing to pass up free cupcakes whenever they want them to stay away from you. So perhaps spend less time stuffing your soon to be fat face and more time with a bit of self reflection, Bunty. Hell, I just met you 5 minutes ago and I pretty much hate your guts.

So this time, you bring the pieces out randomly and try to get the picture put back together before the timer on the bottom left runs out. There are also strawberries you mash together to create multiplier strawberries and then mash in to a cupcake for points and more time. It’s all about food for Bunty…bitch is gonna be 3 tons pretty quick if she doesn’t find a different way of dealing with her flagging self esteem.

Holy shit, it looks like I was right about the whole ‘come hither’ looks thing. When that unicorn is inevitably raped, she pretty much brought it on herself.

Also, notice how much time ran out before I did this. See those little purple bits to the frame in the above pictures? turns out those open…so if you slide a piece at them at the proper time, it is removed completely and it randomly pops out again later. It’s a handy way of dealing with pieces you don’t need yet, but I didn’t know that those opened up at all because Bunty forgot to  mention it. I’m really understanding why this cow doesn’t have any friends. What I can’t understand is why whoever owns her hasn’t already sent her off to Aylmer’s for a special production run of glue. But this whole surprise tile swallowing thing clearly indicates that the makers of this game hate children and want to make them cry. Oh boy, more fake stickers!

So…yeah. I can’t find any other backgrounds, and the controls for putting these fucking things together suck a hobo’s dick. I can’t even figure out how to remove stickers. I’d rather masturbate with sandpaper.

Where to begin. Bunty, that isn’t a cow…that is a bull. If you weren’t so self absorbed maybe you’d learn something about the world. You’re about to get a harsh lesson in what happens when you strut your teasing pink ass up to a bull looking at him like that…it’s not just that acorn or whatever the fuck you’re offering that he’s about to take from you. Good grief. He’s already glancing around to see if any potential witnesses are nearby.

Oh boy, more shit that I can collect during picture building! Note that they make no mention of any special things these items can do (because Bunty is a cunt)…well, those blue hearts eventually EXPLODE and take away every surrounding block in a flood. Learn about tsunamis, kids! Also learn that life will take things away from you that you’ve worked for! And that fucking blue bear that looks like a thief actually is one. Son of a bitch will take surrounding pieces one by one while laughing at you. I actually think that’s awesome, but for a game supposedly teaching that different can also be fun, it seems weird to create a hatred in kids of blue bears. And those little bitch ass brown bears do NOTHING to stop him…they just flail their paws around like they’re giving hand jobs to invisible dicks.

I actually failed to complete the puzzle in time because I was distracted by efforts to drown teddy bears with the tsunami heart, so I had to try again. This attempt led to success and the next stage.

What in the Hell is this shit?! What, because a narwhal and a unicorn each have a horn they’re the same?! Fuck you, Cutesy!

But no, we have Roane (SERIOUSLY? Sounds like the name of a ‘tough’ NPC character in a Final Fantasy game). Yet another creature who can magically make food happen and yet has no friends. Well, this time I have a theory on that…you’re making donuts UNDERWATER and can’t figure out why nobody wants them? Were you hit in the head with a boat motor as a child? Your fucking donuts are going to be rendered in to salty goo by your aquatic environment, you half wit dolt! Why not make something that your underwater brethren can actually make use of, like a well prepared fish? But NOOOO, Roane can’t be bothered to make anything he can’t magically shit out for people…effort is for losers I guess. Stupid, lazy and completely inconsiderate as he tries to jack up the cholesterol rate of the entire marine habitat. Fuck you, Roane.

And wait…where the Hell are the donuts? What, you’re promising donuts and then everyone shows up and you just offer them those horrible party hats with the elastics that cut in to your neck like a garrotte? You’re a complete tool.

Yeah, that makes perfect sense. We’re going under the sea so we’ll throw together 4 leaf clovers and pots of gold. Stupid.

I SOMEHOW manage to finish the picture of this self obsessed emo fuck of a whale, and it’s sticker time!

To the right are my new stickers. I am bringing Cthulhu to this realm, along with his spider and worm denizens. These creatures of horror will drive the pink monstrosities in this game mad and then devour them. Cthulhu is a considerate denizen of other worlds, so he’s also bringing fresh pastries…not water logged lumps of shit like that fucking Roane serves.

There are still 5 stages to go and this is surprisingly entertaining to write about, so this will be continued at another time. Will Cthulhu succeed in consuming Bunty and her equally useless companions?! Will Bunty manage to avoid being knocked up by a badger who couldn’t be bothered to throw on a rubber?! Will Roane be found with a self inflicted gunshot wound and a suicide note that will have run and become un-readable because he’s underwater but doesn’t seem to understand what that means because he’s completely fucking dumb?! Tune in next time!

He’s right, it truly IS the start of a campaign like nobody has ever seen. And I have questions. SO MANY QUESTIONS.

Why did they seemingly let the gay doorman to their building choose their campaign theme? I’ll grant you it’s a bold move, but it seems like a sizable gamble.

Why was watching a man smoke a cigarette apparently considered such a compelling image that it gets more time than everything besides the candidate smirking? Also, why is the candidate smirking? A smirk does not exactly make one brim with confidence that ‘Yes, this is the man I wish to place in control of the nuclear launch codes’.

Why are they apparently trying to connect this campaign with the image of a dirty alleyway? Are they really shooting hard for that whore/junkie/homeless voting bloc?

Why use this sputtering, nervous, pasty guy as your spokesman? Surely there were C-list celebrities available. What’s Scott Baio up to? Is Wilford Brimley busy? But no, we’ll go with a guy who appears about as natural and calm in front of a camera than those perverts nailed on Dateline NBC ‘To Catch a Predator’ stings. And frankly, he wouldn’t look out of place being asked to take a seat by Chris Hansen. THAT’S an association you want.

Never have truer words been spoken in a campaign ad than “We need you to get involved…” Seriously, right now the campaign is just Herman, this guy, that plant he’s standing next to and a house cat. And the plant and house cat refuse to answer phones.

This is 3 Dev Adam. It’s one of those ridiculously weird Turkish movies. It features a bizarre version of Spiderman…as the VILLAIN. Yes, the villain. Apparently, Spidey’s radioactive spider bite turned him pure goddamn evil. Bad to the point of attacking a woman buried in the sand with a boat motor (yes, really). Bad to the point of attacking some other woman in the shower. Bad to the point of torturing a man…with guinea pigs.

Yes, guinea pigs. They just love the taste of eye meat, doncha know!

Luckily, a Mexican luchadore named Santos is available to fight him, along with Capt. America. But Spiderman has a sword and stuff, and Cap seems to have lost his shield (probably pawned it for a bit of Turkish green). But Santos and Cap can pick up the back end of cars and stuff, and that might count for something. Maybe.

What’s that, you think I’m lying? First off, fuck you. NEVER doubt me when it comes to ridiculous movies! Secondly, let me prove it :

And you know what, Spiderman might be evil, but from the amount of devilish cackling he’s spouting out here we can tell that he clearly appreciates and enjoys his new line of work. Good for him for finding the job that will make him happy.

Oh, and I am of course downloading this movie as I type. I believe that I’ve also found an English subtitles file, but that seems a minor concern when faced with a cinematic tour de force such as this.

“And you don’t have to breathe…if I kill you. So buckle up, bitches! I’m not done talking.”

Working in a warehouse, one can often encounter amusingly bizarre situations. For example, how many of you knew that fax spam still exists? It is most certainly alive and well.

Every single morning, there’s a fax waiting for me when I unlock the door. Maybe it will be the Oilfield News, a newsletter nobody ever subscribes to that is electronically delivered to any company remotely involved in the oilfield industry and who leaves a fax on. It’s basically a gigantic classified section that makes no sense, unless you’re looking for a rig tool supplier, a good deal on breakfast AND a used Chevette.

Or perhaps it’s the latest update about an upcoming conference where I can improve my management skills/listening skills/people skills/whatever the fuck you can think of skills. I’m sure there are some offering potty training for managers who need the help. And all for the low, low price of $599…lunch included! That better be the best goddamn ham sandwich in the history of man.

Now fax spam is funny. What seems to be a sudden glut of attempted supply scammers…THAT isn’t so funny.,,unless you make it so. It IS fucking annoying. Allow me to explain what I’m talking about by way of an example from yesterday’s work day.

Earlier today I received a call from AllState Shipping Supplies.

Wait, isn’t that an insurance company?

Yes it is. Something tells me these people aren’t affiliated.

Anyway, Crystal asked if I was going to be able to get her a PO number to finish off a transaction dating to July 8th. Now, it was a busy morning, and I had no idea who in the Hell she was or this company was, so I told her that I’d need some more information.

“Certainly, Cliff. We sent you a promotional offer of a box of tape back in July?”

Aaaaaaah. Memory returning. Let’s briefly step in to the wayback machine and I’ll fill in the back story…

But Mr. Peabody!

Quiet, you!

It’s July 8th. I get a phone call from someone from a company called AllState Shipping Supplies. Might have been Crystal then as well, or perhaps a different girl with a similarly ‘phone sex operator’ type name. Anyway, she tells me that she’s excited to announce some celebration about something or other blah blah blah.

I wasn’t so much paying a ton of attention to the details. No, I was wondering how in the Hell she knew my name. She didn’t call through the receptionist or anyone in the office…she direct dialled my extension (This is still something that kind of freaks me out a bit). So while I’m talking with her, I’m hitting up the Googles because my suspicions are rising and I have never heard of this company at all.

They don’t have a website apparently, because Googling them doesn’t bring one up. Nothing. How does an apparently big supply firm not have a website? Have I been delivered back to the year 1986 without realizing it before now? This has now officially escalated from suspicious to fishy.

So I ask her about the company. The first thing she tells me is that they’re based in Sherman Oaks, California.

Let’s just pause here a moment to drink this in. You have a shipping supply company in California. How in the Hell does it make the slightest bit of economic sense for you to try to drum up customers in ALBERTA? Is the world of shipping supplies really that profitable? Maybe they’re all driving around in Bentleys, snorting blow off the dash. Maybe the Bentleys are made out of blow.

Well, maybe they have a branch office closer to Leduc. So I ask.

Nope. It’s all out of Cali.

As I’m drinking in this bizarre piece of information, she continues rambling on about whatever the fuck they were celebrating. I’m still checking out the Google results, all of which seem to be Better Business Bureau reports and scam warnings. I read a bit and ask her about it.

Oh, that was their old company, but they’ve totally changed and are perfectly legit now.

Uh huh. And I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and find that I’m now Chuck Norris. Her claim seemed especially doubtful since there had been dozens of BBB claims within the previous few months. (Incidentally, here’s the page for them now. 38 claims in 12 months, no accreditation and an F rating.)

So now she tells me that she is pleased to be able to offer me the same great price we’ve gotten before on 2” packing tape.

Now, I have been there a few months at this point. I know that we buy all of our tape, and pretty much the rest of our shipping stuff, from Shipper’s Supply. So either I’m completely out of the loop on this total wink wink nudge nudge packing tape awesomeness, or this is total bullshit.

Oh, but there’s more! She’d like to send me a case of it as a gift to thank me for my support. AND she’ll throw in a gift card to Tim Hortons. She then proceeds to spend what had to be 3-4 minutes rambling on about how much she loves coffee and Timmy Hortons. You’re in California. What, you take an international flight every morning for your cuppa joe?

Anyway, now she asks if I’d like to give them a PO number or perhaps just go with my name as a verbal PO. I haven’t actually accepted anything at this point. Furthermore, if they’re offering me the ‘same great price’ as last time, shouldn’t we have an account with them that would go through purchasing?

Then she mentions something about an open invoice.

WOAH WOAH WOAH. I thought this was a gift item to reward a nonexistent history of harmonious business and such? So I ask her about this. And she proceeds to tell me that I’ll be billed for the tape, but the coffee card is a free throw in. Well, how much is the tape?

$495.

Four hundred ninety five dollars. For a box of 60 rolls of tape. Is the tape made of blow? Is it Moon tape, using adhesive secretly being mined from the lunar surface by a mysterious legion of alien labourers? Is it hand delivered by a buxom lass who will spend the next week as my ‘no questions asked’ sex slave while not busy frying me up another pan of bacon?

I actually started laughing on the phone. Then I believe I asked if she was completely out of her fucking mind. Anyway, She hung up.

Fast forward a few days, and now I get a call from the shipper at AllState, letting me know that my box of tape was shipping. I asked him if he was nuts, and told him I didn’t order it, I don’t fucking want it, end of story. HE hung up.

Fast forward a few more days. Guess what UPS drops off? I wasn’t around, so Nick received it, so I can’t just refuse it and tell the driver to take it away.

Now by this time, I’ve done enough reading to know that if I try to send it back, it goes to a false address, gets returned to me and I’m out about $50 in international shipping charges. So in to the bin it goes. I’m out $51 for collect shipping, but there isn’t much I can do about that.

There, now you know the back story.

But…but Mr. Peabody…

I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP! SPEAK ONLY WHEN SPOKEN TO!

So here’s Crystal, asking today about getting a PO#. I thought I was done with this!

Why Crystal, whatever do you mean?

Well, you received our promotional offer…

I received a box of bullshit that I told both the woman who phoned me AND the shipping idiot that I wanted no fucking part of. Your crap went in the garbage. Want it back? Come on up and go dump hunting. (Yes, these are the actual words that I said to the best of my memory. Fuck this idiot).

Sir, we are still owed for our product. I need a PO # to which I can bill this transaction.

And yet back in July you were perfectly happy to go with just a verbal PO using my name. Seems strange that you didn’t NEED a proper PO# back then to run this through.

Listen, I need a PO# before I leave this office today in an hour and a half.

I don’t issue PO numbers. That isn’t part of my job responsibility. And the people who DO do that as part of their job aren’t going to give you one, because you’re running a scam. You thought you could rip me off, you were wrong, now piss off. (Besides that, this was at 10:30 AM, so 11:30 Pacific time. Who the fuck is done work at 1 in the afternoon?!)

If necessary, we WILL contact a collections agency and go through things that way.

Really. You’re going to contact a collections agency to try to get back money you feel you’re owed for a complete and total fabrication? Then what…a company with 38 consumer complaints and counting marked against it is going to pursue a legal action through which you’ll be found guilty of being both an illegal scam operation AND a bunch of fucking idiots? Is that what’s going to happen?

I really…

I wasn’t done, sweetie. Perhaps you’ll…GASP…sick your daddy on me! Sweet Jesus, no! Or does mom know for certain which john it was who shot the winning round? (Yes, I actually said all of this too. You may have noticed that I can have a propensity towards crudeness).

Sadly, Crystal hung up at this point. I’m going to guess that that’s probably the end of the tale, since they don’t have a leg to stand on.

But they are hardly original. I have received similar calls from 2 other companies in the past 3-4 months pitching a similar load of crap. So be wary.

Tuesday morning rolls around and we still no second page. Maybe they’ve brought the Pony Express out of retirement as they new message transmission service? Probably not, so I’ll call them again. The conversation went something like this :

“Hey, this is Cliff at Cameron in Leduc. We’re still waiting on the second page of that packing slip.” (This is followed by my passing on the PO # to him).

“Oh, looks like there isn’t a second page.”

(I look at the bottom of the page I have. Yes, it still says ‘Page 1 of 2′)

“Uh…are you sure? Because the page that I do have clearly says Page 1 of 2 at the bottom.”

“Well, I can check again. Yep, there should just be the one page.”

Then what has become of this second page that has apparently never existed? Has it been stolen…not just from my desk, but also from time and space and existence itself?! What sort of being could wield such power, and why are they so determined to impede my ability to enter gaskets in to the system?

“Okay…weird. Anyway, we have a whole skid of stuff here that isn’t on that one page packing slip. Could I get some paperwork for that?”

“Sure, what’s the PO # for that?”

“Same as the other stuff.”

“Well, you have everything off of that PO #”

“…really.”

So this goes beyond a simple page going missing…now the entire past existence of this order has been pulled in to the miasma. Perhaps I hold the only remaining evidence that reality has been tainted by some dark force. My suspicions rise…my hackles are up.

“Yeah, I don’t see anything else for that purchase order. Can you tell me what the part numbers are?”

(This information exchange happens. A few moments pass. Then a few more…)

“Okay, yeah, that stuff is actually on a different PO.”

“Oh, okay then, can you send me that paperwork so I can get that received?”

“Uhhhh…no. I can’t do that, sorry.”

“And why might that be?”

“Well, we haven’t shipped it yet.”

As he says this, I am staring at the product in question…but how can I be? They haven’t been shipped. So what are these items?! They appear to be gaskets, but obviously there is something more sinister at work here. Somebody wants me to believe that these are mere gaskets, but who? And what is there goal? To drive me mad…send me to the loony bin? I must get to the bottom of this evil plot! And is the missing second page from earlier somehow involved? I must solve this mystery, for my very sanity could be at stake!

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why am I looking at 250 gaskets that meet those part numbers?”

“Huh…that’s weird. They haven’t shipped yet, though. We’ll get those up to you probably later this week.”

At this point I simply end the conversation. My mind can take no more of the flaying being delivered upon it by whatever cruel beast is on the other end of this line. I will not allow this monstrous entity to drag me down in to whatever dimension of Hell that the phone call is clearly being routed to. He will not take me!

The skid still sits within the warehouse. I feel it’s presence…and not just in that way one always has a certain awareness of physical objects around oneself. No, this is something more…disturbing. I do not know what precisely lurks within those boxes, but clearly it is not to be trusted. I will be wary.

And I will prepare for whatever ghastly arrival will occur later in the week. This is just a harbinger. Something worse approaches.

The Blair Witch Project

Hello, inspiration for this post!

Who the fuck found this mess the slightest bit frightening? Were they over the age of 7? The only thing that scared me about this debacle is that so many people liked it.

And don’t give me that “You need to use your imagination.” bullshit. This is my blog…I’ll be the one talking down to others, thanks. I have an imagination. An imagination doesn’t help when I spend 90 minutes thinking to myself that they really should have hired actual actors to play the roles. But no, the hook was that they were all amateurs. And lucky us, we got to watch them do nothing but scream at each other for an hour and a half. I have suffered through bouts of the flu that were more likable than this collection of fucking idiots.

I was rooting for the witch. I hope she brutally violated each and every one of them with a sharpened broomstick.

300

Never in my life have I so strongly wanted an actor, ANY actor, to just grant me the gift of simply whispering a single line of dialogue. This movie had all the subtlety of a hammer shot to the face, and probably deafened half the audience as the steroid jacked cast shrieked at each other and tried to sound badass.

Then we have the cartoonishly stupid characters. Or perhaps history has simply overlooked the fact that Xerxes was a 7 foot tall piercing addict who liked to be carried around by hundreds of slaves while desiring to tongue the ass of every Spartan he met.

But nothing…NOTHING…was more obnoxious in this fucking stain on the screen than Todd Snyder’s direction. He deserves to be drawn and quartered for his constant time shifting slow-fast-slow combat scene bullshit.

Mel Gibson Double Feature

To reflect Mel’s double talent…he’s a racist AND a drunk!

First, we have Apocalypto. Now, this is also the movie that made me the angriest of possibly any film I’ve ever seen. And that’s because the first half was really, really good.

Really interesting things going on, good characters, and everything seemed totally authentic to Mayan tribal culture.

And it all went completely down the shitter from the moment one of the characters swore.

I remember thinking “Wait…what? How is THAT part of the Mayan language?!” Then one character escaped. And it became nothing more than a rote, paint by numbers chase movie. It was completely and utterly predictable.

There was also the thoroughly ridiculous story about the escapee’s wife being down in a pit, and pregnant…AND it’s raining so the pit is filling with water. She gives birth (by herself), keeps her children safe and manages to fend off a mean ass monkey. Or does she? She reaches out to poke it’s ‘corpse’ with a stick while every fucking person who has ever seen a fucking movie yawns as it SHOCKINGLY turns out to not be dead! Horrible, horrible, horrible.

Secondly, we have The Passion of the Christ. Now, I’m sure that this movie has a lot more meaning for someone who is actually religious, but it basically was a few hours of watching Jesus get the living shit beat out of him.

Yeah, we get it, the last few days weren’t a picnic. ENOUGH, for fuck’s sake.

Two Shots of Tarantino

Starting with Jackie Brown. Can anyone explain to me why this boring lump of drudgery brought to horrible life is critically acclaimed? This is the worst example of Quentin Tarantino masturbating his ego all over the fucking audience, so sure that he’s a genius writer that the viewers will swallow any load of conversation he pumps on to the screen.

And 95% of the conversation in this shit pile is absolutely and utterly pointless, stupid and uninteresting. Half the cast seem to have been asleep during filming. I can’t blame them, since that pretty much describes me while watching this lump of shit. All the thrills normally found in tax forms, but stretched out to what seemed like 17 gajillion hours of unrelenting slow torture.

But let us not forget Death Proof, his half of Grindhouse. This movie spends an hour with a group of girls hanging out in a bar, having an overall pretty boring conversation about nothing. It goes on and on, and then they die and we meet the group of girls who are the actual central characters of the movie.

That’s right, we waste AN HOUR listening to the pabulum falling from the mouths of characters who aren’t even central to the story. It’s for reasons like this that I will always remain skeptical whenever Tarantino releases a movie. And why I also really would enjoy kicking him in the junk.

Forrest Gump

Thrill to the story of a village idiot getting involved in every moment of history that occurred in the latter half of the 20th Century.

Maybe it would have worked if Robert Zemeckis hadn’t tried to stuff him in to every possible moment that he could. I half expected Forrest to rise up from behind the grassy knoll with a smoking rifle, but then that might have actually managed to be interesting. Can’t have that!

And fuck his friend Bubba and his droning list of shrimp recipes.

The fact that so many ridiculous, mongoloid ‘pearls of wisdom’ from this pile became so popularly used is a sign of civilization’s decline.

The Matrix

That’s right, I’m putting the hammer down on the movie that caused so many geeks to reach climax that theater owners temporarily employed jizz moppers.

I don’t actually hate this movie, but the fact that so many people talk about it as though it’s the greatest moment in cinematic history is just sad and kind of pathetic.

Roll a bunch of pseudo-philosophical jabberings in to some sort of half hearted rip off of the basis of a thousand martial arts movies and wrap it all in a bunch of shiny stuff doing crazy stuff on screen and you pretty much have the script. It isn’t original. It rips off everything about itself, and just wraps it in such a pretty bow that everyone convinces themselves it’s a work of fucking genius.

It’s still an entertaining movie, but it isn’t the magnum opus it has since been made out to be. It IS a fuck of a lot better than the godawful sequels it spawned, but then so is a kidney stone.

Dune

Speaking of sci-fi movies that caused dorkgasms by the dozen…

Has anyone who likes this fucking disaster read the book? Because it basically shits all over it.

Well actually, it starts off following it note for note. The first 20-30 minutes follows the book exactly to the letter. Then it seems like David Lynch realized that if he kept on that path, his movie would be 17 hours long. So he sped it up a bit. And apparently turned on his ‘make things stupid’ machine as well.

Remember in the book how Paul has to prove himself to the Fremen? In the movie he does this by hiding behind a rock while mommy yells at them. Wooo! Way to prove yourself to be the one they’ve been waiting for, you fucking asshat! the fact that it works proves that everyone has been right to oppress these desert nomads, and that they should have been exterminated long before.

It comes to a close as he and the others ride on sandworms and fire off their wrist lasers at stuff. If you need to be told why that’s terrible, you’re a fucking moron.

And then he makes it rain. Not in that funny strip club way, more in that ‘would utterly ruin the planet’ way.

For fuck’s sake, Sting hangs around in a bunch of scenes wearing a Speedo and leering at the viewer in a way that makes you want to seek out the number of a rape counselor.

Utter…fucking…shit.

Avatar

AUUUUUAAAAUUUGGGHHHHH!

HOW. HOW is THIS the highest grossing film of all time?! Could there be a greater sign of imminent apocalypse?!

James Cameron sucks. Blue people suck. Ripping off the storylines of existing properties and just making them slightly ‘space-y’ sucks. A mech that pulls out A BIG KNIFE is just stupid as fuck. A complete and total lack of subtlety or intelligence for almost 3 fucking hours sucks.

People saw this and actually became depressed that Pandora wasn’t real? I rejoiced! Fuck, if it WAS real I’d be demanding it be nuked from orbit…WE HAVE TO BE SURE!

By the way, there is a dude in Edmonton with an Avatar themed pickup truck. I want to burn it with him in the cab and look at the Navi eyes he has painted on the back window while I laugh at his screams and watch them melt…

Nothing brings a post to a natural end point like murder fantasies!

Other Blog Challenge Participants

Liam – http://www.bisonweb.ca/blog/
Kyle – http://drkyle.wordpress.com/
Chad – http://grindingpixels.blogspot.com/
Tammy – http://tam–i–am.blogspot.com/
Erron – http://erron.wordpress.com/
Vlad – http://www.analogcoast.com/
Kim – http://www.mynaturebaby.ca/blog/
Shaun – http://expeditionoftruths.com/
Peter – http://crazywookiecookies.blogspot.com/
Earl – http://earljwoods.blogspot.com/
Zita – http://ignitestrategicsolutions.com/
Brad – http://kickmeoutsoon.blogspot.com/
Natasha – http://blog.naturalurbanmamas.com/