Category Archives: Guilty Pleasures

Hey New Girl, don’t you unSchmidt my Schmidt!

Posted by gruesomegreg on

As I’ve said before (around this time last year), Schmidt is by far the biggest scene-stealer in New Girl, the Zooey Deschanel sitcom on FOX.  With Nick a leading contestant for The Biggest Loser–if it wasn’t about losing weight–and Winston being so unmemorable and non-descript that he rarely gets a major story line, the only contest is between Schmidt and CeCe.  Mind you, the latter is getting married in the season finale…

But when it comes to the male leads, it seems that Max Greenfield is the only one who’s really flexing his acting chops.  I mean, the guy can’t really be as big a douchebag off-screen as he is as Schmidt, right?  But lately, the writers have been trying to unSchmidt everybody’s favourite Jewish yuppie douchebag, much to my dismay.

It all started with CeCe’s wedding announcement, when Schmidt decided to meet up with his fat college girlfriend, who somehow also lives in L.A. (didn’t he go to Syracuse?) and is still quite chubby.  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the Fat Schmidt flashbacks with his sidekick Stoner Hippy Nick–the bunkbed sex scene was particularly amusing.  But turning the one true, discernible male character on the show into another fat, poor schlub like the rest of ‘em, that’s just not cool.  Here’s hoping that Merritt Wever only has a guest-star contract, and that Elizabeth isn’t about to become a fixture on the show.

Put it this way: If Schmidt shows up to CeCe’s wedding in a sweatshirt, I’m boycotting Season 3.

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GUILTY PLEASURES: Hickory Sticks

Posted by gruesomegreg on

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Maaaaan, I loves me some Hickory Sticks!  I first tasted this salty snack back in junior high, when I realized they were cheaper than your average bag of chips in the vending machine.  Sure, the bag might be smaller, but it’s hardly lacking in hickory-smoked flavour.  People used to pay to watch me eat hickory sticks.  No, really.

Let’s just say that wherever I go, I single-handedly make sure that the nearest Metro has lotsa Sticks on the shelves.  When I found out that the grocery store next door didn’t stock ‘em, I made the three-block trek to stock up on Sunday–hence the three bags in this photo.

OK, so I suppose that with 270 calories, 17 grams of fat and 420(!!!) milligrams of sodium per 50 grams of chip, it’s not the healthiest snack in the world.  But hey, today is International No Diet Day, so I’ll be chowing down without shame–like I do almost every day, for that matter. ;)

There aren’t many TV shows I’d actually write down on my calendar. Mad Men is definitely an exception…

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You had me at 2-hour premiere.  I can’t say I’ve watched it from the beginning, but when I realized that Jessica Pare was on Mad Men, it immediately earned a spot on my TV viewing schedule, filling the Sunday-night void of the NFL offseason.  I’m not nostalgic for the 60′s, by any means, but the show’s time capsule seems to accurately capture the era.  Hey, I wasn’t around back then, but who doesn’t pine for the days when everybody drank on the job (he writes, with a hangover)?

From what I’ve read on the topic (and admittedly, it’s very little), ad agencies were actually like that in those days.  Not just the drinking, but the colourful personalities, the fights, the senior partner who hangs himself at his desk…  OK, maybe the last one wasn’t so typical, but it made for great TV–if by great, you mean dark and depressing.

Of course, that seems to be the knock against the show from people who don’t watch Mad Men.  Hey, it’s definitely no spring picnic, even if it airs at this time of year.  But who says you hafta escape reality to a happier place?  Or perhaps one’s life is so risk-adverse that they need a little conflict on the telly to spice things up?  I will say that it’s not the darkest show I’ve ever seen, although admittedly, it’s hard to find a good drama these days when reality TV owns the tube…  Aren’t you glad Rogers came to that agreement with AMC?

Alas, I can’t offer any spoilers or insight into Season 6; in fact, I’ve been trying to avoid reading that stuff.  But I get the feeling that whatever happens, well, I shan’t be disappointed.

RIP Gandee Candy…

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Never thought I’d use this space to eulogize a reality TV star, but here we go.  And no, I’m not talking about that doctor from Koh-Lanta, either.  Frankly, if my medical career had gone so off-track that I was providing first-aid on a reality show, I’d kill myself too–even if a contestant didn’t die first.

But that’s beside the point.  Shain Gandee didn’t take his own life; he died doing what he loved, crazy redneck West Virginian that he was.  The star of MTV’s Buckwild, which put the Mountain State back on the map, Gandee passed away in a mudhole due to carbon monoxide poisoning, a bad case of muddin’ gone wrong.  And if you watched the show, you’d know that Gandee Candy wasn’t just a star, he was definitely the star.  If Snooki and The Situation had sex in a Sissonville trailer-park, their bastard love child might be something like Shain.  (Love the redneck spelling, by the way.)

Which is not to say he was a Guido; hell, the hills of Sissonville are many miles away from the Jersey Shore, even though MTV made a conscious effort to present his show as some sorta backwoods spin-off of their most popular program.  But while the Shore House gang’s rap sheets were full of public intoxications and dance-club brawls, shit down in West Virgina gets a lot more serious.  Case in point: Salwa Amin, the Bengali beauty who liked to take her top off, has now been arrested twice for possession of both hillbilly heroin and actual horse. (And no, I didn’t say an actual horse; that’s probably not even illegal down in those parts…)  Something tells me she won’t be back for Season 2.  If they even have a Season 2, that is.

MTV had already renewed Buckwild for another summer, but they’ve obviously suspended shooting in the wake of Gandee’s death.  Cuz unlike Mike, who’s a dick, and Snooki, who’s a ditz–characters you tune in to make fun of–Gandee Candy was a guy you actually wanted to root for.  I mean, his pal Tyler was a playa and Joey’s got the IQ of a Seaside Heights houseplant, but Shain was just a good guy, man.  He didn’t have the looks or anything, but his country-boy charm and hair-brained redneck schemes stood out above all the two-timing, cat-fighting and bitching.  And when he finally woos ex-lingerie model Cara–by spelling out their initials with road flares!–in the final episode, it was like he scored one for fat, hairy rednecks everywhere.  And he didn’t even hafta design a duck-call to do it! ;)

Sooo, will the show survive another season without Shain?  While I don’t doubt MTV already has a hush-hush casting call ongoing for a new back-country hillbilly to take his place, it just won’t be the same.  Cuz you can replace an Angelina, no problem, but if Pauly D were to die in a blow-dryer fire, the Music Television Network would be forced to cancel Snooki & JWOWW out of respect.  (C’mon maaaan, is that show still going!?)

GUILTY PLEASURES: Buckwild

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What do you get when you cross Jersey Shore with Duck Dynasty, deep in the heart of West Virginia?  MTV’s latest reality series, that’s what!  Taking over the Shore’s old Thursday night timeslot, this show follows a cast of barely-legal coeds and backwoods country bumpkins who like to go clubbing (they actually hit up a venue called Karma, in fact) when they’re not doing stupid shit.  And speaking of stupid shit, well, you’ve got burnouts, jumping off roofs and train tracks, bull-riding, and of course, shooting guns.  What redneck reality series wouldn’t be complete without some target practice?

The thing is, while I found Jersey Shore‘s guido club culture about as nauseating as seeing Snooki give birth on live TV, the West Virgina version oddly appeals to me.  Of course, the state senator wants it cancelled, but hey, he probably doesn’t wanna be reminded of the good old days when he shot firecrackers out of a potato gun.  Or, apparently it has something to do with cultural stereotypes, but anyhoo…

Did I mention that they actually let amateurs ride bulls at what passes for a rodeo in West Virgina?  Amateur women, no less?  Suffice to say, last week’s episode was rather entertaining.

So, is Buckwild the next Jersey Shore?  Something tells me it won’t last six seasons, but at least MTV had the right idea by starting ‘em young.  I’m told the Shore started going downhill once its cast began pushing 30.  Or maybe it was that ill-fated trip to Italy where it jumped the shark.  Not that I’ve ever watched Jersey Shore, or anything…

GUILTY PLEASURES: Mononc’ Serge

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Although he’s a self-professed separatist, who once rained homophobic insults down upon myself and a Montreal metal crowd at Le National, I have long been an admirer of Mononc’ Serge’s music.  I was first turned onto this québécois shock-rocker though his collaborative effort with Montreal thrash titans Anonymus, 2003′s L’Académie du Massacre, which featured metalized versions of some of his earlier hits, along with freshly-pressed, unforgettable singles (and their accompanying music video mastery) “Les patates,” “Les portes de l’enfer” and personal favourite “L’âge de bière,” which I happily sung along with a host of drunken revelers at last call aux Foufounes Électriques (picture the Bovine Sex Club on steroids) one cold November evening.

As luck would have it, a second Mononc/Anonymus collab, Musique Barbare, came out just a couple weeks before I went to Montreal for the 96th Grey Cup in 2008.  I returned the following spring for that fateful April evening when, with the Habs on the verge of playoff elimination, Mononc’ Serge et Anonymus set the room on fire like a crowd of crazed hockey rioters.  I laughed, I cried, I shouted “Mange donc la marde, tabarnak!” in response to Mononc’s monologue about all metalheads being inherently homosexual.  Good times, good times…

I’ve since dived into the man’s back catalogue–which included a notable stint with sovereigntist saviours Les Colocs–unearthing such gems as Serge Blanc d’Amérique and 13 Tounes Trash.  I’ve yet to get my hands on his latest album, Ça, c’est d’la femme!, but stumbling across the music video for its leadoff single, “Signe s’es boules” the other day brought a smile to my face.  Here it is, for your politically-incorrect viewing pleasure:

GUILTY PLEASURES: Daily Buffalo Bills Buzz

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I must say that I’m not really a Bills fan.  Sure, I’ve accepted the fact that their games will always be shown on TV in Toronto (when they’re not blacked out in Buffalo, that is), but I usually spend the 1 o’clock slate flipping between the 3-4 games on digital cable–unless Seattle’s playing an East Coast opponent, of course.  That said, I saw enough of the Bills-Texans game yesterday to know that Buffalo fans didn’t have too much to celebrate.

Now, since I bought the Bills in Toronto Series four-game ticket pack back in ’07, I receive various emails from the team, including the Daily Buffalo Bills Buzz newsletter.  I suppose I could always unsubscribe, but hey, it helps me keep tabs on the team I cheer for once a year when they play at Rogers Centre–although this year will be different, for obvious reasons. ;)   Alas, while the articles are mildly informative, and off-the-field reporter Hannah Buehler is smokin’ hot, in a girl-next-door kinda way, what keeps me coming back for more are the comments from disgruntled Bills fans on every writeup.

Now, I suppose I can see the source of their frustration.  This is a franchise that hasn’t made the playoffs since ’99, when they benched the best CFL player of all-time for some bum named Rob Johnson–who, to his credit, put up some pretty big numbers against somebody’s third-string defense in Week 17–and proceeded to lose on a trick-play kick-return in the dying seconds.  In a way, they’re kinda like the Toronto Maple Leafs of the NFL; y’know, if the Leafs had actually made it to the Stanley Cup final and lost in ’93–as well as ’91, ’92 and ’94.  Okay, maybe a (slightly) more realistic scenario would be if the Seattle Seahawks had gotten screwed not just in Super Bowl 40, but Super Bowls 41, 42 and 43 as well–then proceeded to miss the playoffs for the entire following decade.  Ouch!

While I can’t quite say I feel their pain, there’s no denying that Bills fans are pretty fed up with their franchise.  These are actual comments posted on the Bills Buzz following the loss to Houston.  And yes, these people are all (supposedly) Buffalo Bills fans…

Naturally, you’re bound to get criticism of the head coach…

(Holy run-on sentence, Batman!)

…as well as a hearty helping of vitriol (along with some not-so-creative nicknames) bestowed upon the starting quarterback:

Even when the rare positive comment appears, it’s quickly met with a snide remark:

Meanwhile, you also get much putative purchasing of billboards and extensive Christmas wishlists:

(Hey, I always wondered what happened to Big Shot Bob!!!)

Alas, it seems there must not be any decent furniture stores in Buffalo (or Jacksonville, for that matter), because “ALL OUR COUCHES SUCK”

Again, the following is coming from a Bills fan.  At least, he must be, cuz it says here he’s a Top Commenter:

Another common theme: this is not a real NFL team (or some variation thereof)…

I gotta say, the switch to Facebook commenting before the start of this season has added a whole ‘nother level to these comments.  For instance, the believer that the rapture is coming before the Bills turn things around seems so much more credible once you see it’s a guy with a bandana and a porn stache who lists his profession as “MAFIA WARS.”  On the other hand, this comment is kinda scary, considering the poster’s profession:

(Aaaaand that’s why you don’t put your kids in public schools!)

This guy plays the “us commenters know better than the coaches” card, paired with “these guys make too much money, and I’d do better if you paid me!”  Uh, Go Fish?

Meanwhile, the ghost of this guy’s grandmother could beat the Bills DBs!

(And yes, there are 30 more comments where that came from!)

I think this one pretty much sums it up:

(The Bills aren’t just bad, they’re Major League II bad!)

Mind you, this week’s collection of comments seems pretty tame compared to a couple weeks back, when they blew that game against the Titans.  There were definitely a few fightin’ words exchanged afterwards, to put it mildly!

GUILTY PLEASURES: American Greed

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Patrick Bateman once said that he had not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust.  Well, this CNBC program, which airs nightly at 10 pm, would certainly speak to the first emotion–if not both of them.  With the Daily Show on a two-week hiatus, American Greed quickly became my new late-nite TV fix as I stumbled upon it while working my way up the dial one evening.

Narrated by Stacy Keach, the series depicts the rise and fall of a variety of ripoff artists, from “Mini Madoff” Nicholas Cosmo of Agape World to Milwaukee drug dealer and mortgage fraudster Michael Lock to a lucrative Philadelphia insurance fraud ring.  Compiling interviews with detectives, prosecutors, reporters, victims, and in some cases, even the criminals themselves, American Greed takes a closer look at the kind of people who bend the rules to get rich–and ultimately get caught.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from seeing several episodes of this show, it’s that if a money-making scheme sounds too good to be true, well, it probably is.  And that’s where the disgust comes in.  Not so much at the fraudsters living it large (cuz you know they’ll get it in the end), but at the blind sheep who throw their entire life savings into some Ponzi scheme, enticed by the thrill of high returns–that often turn out to be completely bogus.  When the scheme collapses, they go bankrupt, lose their homes, postpone retirement and sometimes are even forced out of retirement and back to work when their nest egg disappears.  I guess that’s what you get for putting all your eggs in one basket–have these people never heard of a diversified portfolio!?

In any case, the show offers a fascinating insight into the dark side of the so-called American Dream.  Let’s just say I’m proud to be Canadian…

GUILTY PLEASURES: AC/DC

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That’s right, I’m not ashamed to admit I’m an AC/DC fan.  Always have been, always will be–even if they keep releasing the same album every few years, albeit with less bite and intensity than the one before (particularly noticeable on the last three).  Hey, I won’t argue that they aren’t breaking any new ground nowadays, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And when I say I’ve always been an AC/DC fan, I’m not really stretching the truth.  They were my first favourite band, going back to when I was six years old.  When I first started listening to rock radio, I remember my dad listing off a buncha bands that I shouldn’t be listening to.  (Hey, I was six, after all!)  I can’t recall any of the other artists, but AC/DC was definitely on the list.  Naturally, I kept an ear open for ‘em after that, and they’ve always received ample airplay, so I had no issues there.  That said, I didn’t find out what some of those songs were about till I was a bit older, heh heh…

Growing up in Calgary, opportunities to see ‘em in concert were few and far between–and usually sold out within minutes, to boot.  I never got a chance to catch em in the flesh till the Black Ice tour hit Rogers Centre in November 2008.  Not bad for a buncha old farts.  Mind you, I’ve always preferred the Bon Scott era of the band.  Brian Johnson may be a solid showman, but all their best lyrics were written by Bon.  RIP.

On that note, I’m currently reading AC/DC: Maximum Rock & Roll, an extensive band bio that I picked up for seven bucks at Chapters a few weeks back.  The book goes through the band’s career on a year-by-year basis, using all kinds of archival interviews and conversations with people who were there to tell the tale of the Thunder from Down Under.  Right now, I’m just finishing up 1979.  Of course, we all know what happens next…

It wasn’t long after I bought the book that I first heard about the AC/DC exhibit they’re hosting this summer in Seattle, home of my beloved Seahawks.  Unique to North America, the EMP Museum exhibition features “more than 400 artifacts including photos, instruments, 35 years of gig posters from shows staged around the world, letters, lyrics, and costumes.”

Suffice to say that I just bought my plane ticket to Seattle.  (I need a new Hawks jersey, anyways!)

…

Although I’m a fan of their earlier work (Highway to Hell > Back in Black IMO), there is one song from their first album that I can’t even stand listening to anymore–and it wasn’t radio that ruined it for me, either.  Y’see, growing up in Calgary, we not only learned how to line dance in gym class; we line-danced to “T.N.T.” by AC/DC.  Though I can’t say I remember the steps, clicking my heals to that song with my gym shorts on made me not wanna hear it ever again.  Still brings back bad memories to this day. *shudder*

GUILTY PLEASURES: Duck Dynasty

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I like to say that I’m an Alberta redneck, but truth be told, I grew up in Calgary, which is an affluent, modern city.  Although I sometimes seem like a caveman next to some of you progressive Toronto people, I’m really not that much of a redneck, after all.  Watching Duck Dynasty on A&E only confirms this.  These guys, on the other hand, are the true definition of rednecks!

Whoops–that’s a band photo of Mastodon.  These are the rednecks we’re looking for:

The Robertson family from the backwoods of Louisiana managed to strike it rich through the family business–making whistles that mimic the sound of a duck.  They’ve become millionaires by selling these things, but as the show, erm, shows, there isn’t a more dysfunctional multi-million-dollar business out there.  Well, cept for Research In Motion, heh heh.  But I digress.

Far from a sleek, modern production line, these guys make duck calls by hand–when they’re not busy doing other stuff, like catching frogs, hunting beavers or trying to find ways to get honey from the beehive.  They also like doing wheelies in their 4×4′s and blowing stuff up, while a recent episode saw them turn an old trailer into a new hunting lodge by mounting it with a buncha 2×4′s.  Yeah, you could say these guys are a few teeth short of a bottle of moonshine…

But there’s also some valuable family lessons learned and passed on, as each episode ends around the dinner table, with company CEO Willie Robertson discussing via voiceover what they learned that day.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a total cheesefest, but if you’re the type of person who’d enjoy watching a buncha hillbillies trying to suck bees outta their hive with a ShopVac, then you just might like this show as much as I do.

Now, if only I could come up with an equally profitable get-rich scheme.  You know what else I’d like to see?  A show profiling the family of the guy who came up with those fake hillbilly teeth.  I’m sure it would be a laugh riot!