Things I Hate #007: Celebrity Gossip Magazines

Man, glad I didn’t title this blog, “The Daily Carp” because I’d have blown that promise fairly quickly. Look, I have a life, ok? You can’t expect me to update this thing on a regular basis for your sick amusement. Someone’s gotta mindlessly browse the internet all day and it might as well be me. But like a pedophile at a playground, I just can’t stay away from my true calling, so let’s talk about something that’s been bugging me recently, Celebrity Gossip Magazines. If you’ve ever flipped through one of these while waiting for the white-trash single mother in front of you at the checkout counter to argue with the manager that she should be able to use food stamps on her six pack of Smirnoff Ice, you may have seen that these magazines are filled to the brim with scathing, inane and completely falsified news about spoiled, rich celebrity figureheads that represent the lowest common denominator of moral human decency. But with the good parts out of the way, let’s talk about why I hate them.


That joke was easier to see coming than Scorsese’s next divorce

The thing is, all these magazines have fallen into the same rut. There are only three things they ever talk about now: celebrity fashion, celebrity relationship drama, and celebrities doing something embarrassing caught on camera (with a section on the side about their poor fashion choice and how this effects their relationship). I say, enough! These celebrities are humans, just like you and me! And as such, there’s much more interesting private-life dirt these magazines can be digging up about them for us to gleefully read. So, for all you Us Weekly editors reading this blog (yes, all two of you), here’s my humble list of five suggestions for new article types I’d like to be seeing.

1. Celebrities’ Ugliest Babies: 

     Everyone loves celebrities, and everyone loves babies, but I think it’s about time we gave the mistakes some time to shine. Sure, I’ve seen a few articles declaring their surprise at an poorly proportioned newborn here and there, but I say we kick it up a notch. These magazines are read on a national level! It’s the perfect chance to let that parent know they should be ashamed of their bucktoothed creation. These celebrities are supposed to be role models for the rest of society, and yet here they are filling the gene pool with creatures that could never develop the chiseled abs or lofty busts of their parents. There’s just something inherently weird when two gorgeous superstars get together and create a large headed abomination. I may not be one of those science fellows, but even I know that’s not how genetics works. 


Take that, Stanford!

2. Celebrity Phobias

     Sometimes it seems that, because of their status, Celebrities are intimidating and unreachable. Everyone would jump at the chance to be a Celebrity’s best friend, but we shy away at the chance of talking to them when we see one. (Some day, Bob Saget, some day). So why not shed light on the dark recesses of their minds that make them pants shitingly terrified of things most people aren’t? Does Tom Cruise flee in terror from clowns? How does Sandra Bullock react to being strung upside down in a room filled with cake? (LOOK, MY THERAPIST SAYS ITS A REAL PHOBIA, OK?). Oh sure, there might be the slight potential that this information could be abused by bitter fans and paparazzi to turn a Celeb’s life into a whirlwind of terror by constantly surrounding them with what they hate most but…well, actually, that seems pretty fun.


Not Pictured: A Room of Upper Middle Class Successful Black Men

3. Guess That Celebrity Poop

     One common tactic these magazines use to attract readers is putting a photo on the cover with the face blurred out and proclaiming, “You will NOT believe which Celebrity X” (Replace X with “wore this bad swimsuit/got really fat/threw their baby off a balcony/etc”). Readers see these tantalizing mysteries and JUST MUST KNOW which Celeb is responsible for said faux pas. But can you imagine the intrigue of guessing which movie star left a deuce the size of a cantaloupe in their hotel toilet? Who wouldn’t be interested in seeing how Ryan Gosling’s turds compare to those of George Clooney? You could even have Celebrity tips on how to give your feces that “in vogue” luster. (Hint: It’s corn).


Although some fans might take cosplaying to a new extreme

4. Celebrity Credit Card Information

     If the movie Identity Theft taught me anything, it’s that credit card fraud can be a moderately hilarious fun time for all. (Also, that Melissa McCarthy’s passion in life is to fall down a lot). Besides, all these stars have so much money lying around, I’m sure they would hardly notice if a few million disappeared. Heck, they donate so much to starving kids in Africa, they’re already comfortable with throwing money into useless causes. So why not give back to the people who are really suffering (aka everyone who saw Grown Ups 2) and let fans go on an spending spree? Heck, these magazines are already able to find out so much, getting credit card info should be a piece of cake.


Otherwise known as Paula Deen’s passion in life

5. Actually Worthwhile Celebrity News

     Because why are we talking about all this idiotic fluff when we should be talking about…um…well…

Ok, fine. Fashion and Relationship Drama it is.

Things I Hate #006: My Various Roommates’ Various Cats

You know what? Today was going to be about book spines. I was going to come on here, complain how annoying it is when I have to browse through book after book with all these titles printed sideways, hunched over like I’m Quasimodo or some bullshit, but just as I’m getting ready to type, my current roommate’s cat, Mal, walks right up next to me, bends over, and completely vomits over my feet. No warning, just “huuagh”. Mal then stares at me, flicking its little tail, as if to say, “Now what, bitch?”. I did not ask for this. I have been as pleasant as I can be to this cat and all I have to show for it is the remains of its breakfast laid out neatly over my socks. I’m sure I could think of a reason if I wanted to. Perhaps it was offering up the contents of its stomach as a token of appreciation for my everlasting fealty. Perhaps it was feeling sick and the white fuzz of my socks looked like an angel’s cloud of comfort for which to lay one’s troubles upon. I could think of a multitude of answers as to why this fucking cat just barfed all over me, but I would be deluding myself. The truth is, there is only one reason when it comes to why cats do things. They are literally evil and want to watch us suffer.

derp-catThis is the face of evil.

But whatever, I have opposable thumbs. Far be it for me to judge the lesser of god’s creations. I cleaned up the mess, sat down to begin typing…and Mal jumped up onto the back of my chair and began biting my ear. Hard. I mean, really?! There is an infinite amount of things around this apartment for Mal to play with but apparently it will not rest until I am good and tormented. Again, evil. But despite the bother, Mal is hardly the worst cat i’ve had to deal with. That honor goes to my previous roommate’s cat, Drake.


Or as I would call him, “I Swear To God, I’m Going To Kill You With Rat Poison The Moment I Get The Chance”

Let me preface this by a small bit of advice. If you live in a small apartment, and your roommate asks if it is ok for him to get a cat, and your roommate isn’t particularly clean in the first place, and your girlfriend is allergic to cats, but you feel kind of bad for your roommate because he’s seemed kind of lonely recently, and I mean, your roommate REALLY isn’t that clean in the first place, DO NOT LET HIM GET A CAT. Doing so will unleash upon you an agony greater than you have ever known. It will transform your once nice apartment into a festering stinkhole dimension that not only has the power to ward off any wandering good spirits (plus, your friends), but also a toxicity level high enough to instantly kill any small bio-organism less than 1.3 lbs. This cat, I don’t…I don’t even know where to begin. Put simply, it had a butt problem. Drake had almost constant diarrhea. All day, everyday. But fine, that’s what litter boxes are for, right? NOPE. Drake would just dribble out shit as he walked around the house, leaving a little poo path for you to accidentally stumble upon in the middle of the night.


The Beatles had a similar cat problem

So after one too many mud bombs, we decided that Drake had to be contained in my roommate’s room where the litter box was until he was completely potty trained. But, oh no, Drake would not be foiled so easily. Apparently, he was just too good to shit in a box, because he began shitting all over my roommate’s bed. And thus began the fated contest between my roommate and Drake; my roommate attempting to wash and keep his sheets clean as much as possible and Drake attempting to keep them covered in a fine layer of cat shit. Unfortunately, as our apartment began to smell like a clogged up toilet after a burrito breakfast, it was clear that Drake was more determined than my roommate.

Oh great, and now Mal is back. This stupid cat, I could just….oh, she’s so fuzzy…and her little cute ears…Hi kitty, do you want to….oh, god. No…NO!!! AAAAHHHHGGGG! WHY DO I NEVER LEARN?!

Things I Hate #005: This Stupid Obsession With Zombies

Notice the title of this blog post is not “Things I Hate #005: Zombies”. I have nothing against Zombies. (In fiction. I imagine if they existed in reality my opinions about them might change). The concept of zombies is relatively interesting and can make for a good setting. But, Jesus Christ, people! The amount of zombie shit out there is INSANE.


“Technically, Jesus WAS a Zombie, huehuehue”- Some Idiot

Take a look at this list, IMDb’s “Most Popular Zombie Feature Films Released in 2013”. There are 52 movies listed, ranging from the well known (World War Z), to the cult classics, (V/H/S 2), to the disturbing (Midget Zombie Takeover), to the just plain “Are You Fucking Kidding Me?!” (Towers of Terror, in which “On September 11, 2001, terrorists attacking the World Trade Center rise from the dead as zombies.” Yes, that is the official synopsis). Now, technically, 52 films is not an excessively large number when dealing with a genre as “in vogue” as zombie but I need to remind you that this is (A) Only a list of the most popular ones, (B) Only Feature Films, (C) Only 2013, and (D) Some idiotic list from the Internet that can’t possibly cover all the trash out there. Of course, I guess the true question I should be looking at is how many more films that is on average compared to all other previous years where Zombie films were made, in order to see if there has actually been a true increase over time but I’m lazy, so screw it.

af4dd4247cfa5e79417394becbc3ad1aThe wonders of having a degree in Film Studies

But I’m not just talking about movies here. Zombie culture has invaded almost any conceivable aspect of our daily lives (although I guess that on some scale that’s justifiable because they’re well, you know…zombies). I mean, Zombie Walks. What the hell is going on there? People literally join together to dress up like zombies and…lounge around for a bit. Are we so overstimulated with our lives that we need to role-play as dead people? I get dressing up as Vampires because those gatherings usually end in someone getting sucked, (GET IT?!) but zombies have never been particularly high up on the sexy list. Unless, this is just some chic stylistic phase I’m totally missing, where it’s suddenly cool to look like you’ve just gone down on someone while she’s riding the crimson wave.


Well, someone’s been an eager beaver!

Is it not a little disconcerting that we’ve basically glorified zombies to the point where people have escapist fantasies of becoming one? There’s enough brain-dead poor quasi-role models on reality TV anyways (ZING). I guess it’s similar to the idea of Renaissance Faires and all those people dressing up in rags and pretending to live a simpler way of life. I certainly see the appeal, but there’s a difference between going, “Why greetings there, good sire! How art though on such a fine day?” and “Huaghaeeggh”. (The difference being how hard they deserve to be punched in the face). Look, if you want a break from the “modern world” so much, you don’t need to pretend someone bit off your arm. Just turn off the TV, go outside and read a book or something.


Oh, for fuck’s sake…

Things I Hate #004: Cronuts (And all other “Food Mash-Ups”)

What kind of person hates food? The sole act of eating is, in my humble opinion, one of the greatest activities of all time, even besting fan favorites like going to the movies, petting puppies, and hardcore hallucinogenic drug trips (although depending on your personal preferences, that last one might fall into the category of “eating” too). But, I wasn’t always such a voracious food junkie. As shocking as it may seem, I was one of the most motherfucking pickiest eaters of all time when I was a kid. I would go to family BBQs and not only refuse hamburgers, but also grilled hot dogs (because everyone knows that boiling meat is the best way to go). My classic Subway go-to was a turkey sub on white bread. Just turkey and bread. Can you guess what condiments I liked to put on my food? If you guessed “Fucking Nothing”, then congrats, come see me after the blog for a surprise prize (Ironically, the prize is also the answer to a previous question).


“Honey, we just won a lifetime supply of anorexics!”

But sometimes, just like that previous joke, food can be too convoluted for someone to actually enjoy. For example, the Cronut. Not content with the heart-stopping butter of a croisant, or the diabetes inducing sugar of a donut, some jackholes decided to merge the two together to create a Frankenstein’s Monster that will kill you quicker than…well, Frankenstein’s Monster. But luckily, most people have the common sense to just avoid the Cronut, and it’s quickly falling into the realm of bad idea obscurity. OH WAIT. NO IT ISN’T. People line up at 6:00am every day just to buy a single one! Only around 200 are made a day, in what I assume is an unconscious attempt on the baker’s part to rectify his plummeting moral karma of unleashing these death-bombs in the first place.


Photo Credit to my friend Joanna, who I assume is no longer with us.

The Cronut is just another entry in the long line of the ever popular “foods being turned into other foods” category. A few years ago Krispy Kreme got in on the action with the Krispy Kreme Cheeseburger, because apparently they weren’t meeting their monthly quota of heart attacks caused. Look, if there’s one thing I’ve always said my glazed donut needed, it’s meat. (Not a euphemism). Or who could forget the classic Turducken, which skips the pastry entirely and just decides to cram as much meat as possible into an enclosed location (that also happens to be meat). Not only does it have the unfortunate, if not prophetic, privilege of having the word “turd” directly in its name, it also happens to have a striking resemblance to photos of my birth. And of course, there’s always the KFC Double Down, which takes the concept of replacing all other essential food groups with pure meat and then ups the ante and fries the fucker in a bid to finally justify calling an inanimate object pure evil.


“Feed Me, Seymour!”

Look, it’s ok to enjoy a variety of foods, but that doesn’t mean you need to eat all of them at the same time. Just because you like two separate things doesn’t mean they are inherently good together (A lesson my little brother learned after I forced him to eat a Pesto-covered Chocolate Cupcake on his birthday). Honestly, at this point I’m just waiting to see when someone comes out with a combination of pancakes, meat and chocolate. Because that would just be – Oh. Well, fuck.

Things I Hate #003: Cross-Device Connectivity and “The Cloud”

Just recently, both my phone and laptop broke around the same time and as a result I was confronted with the always intimidating process of attempting to jump through the hurdles of setting up a new device, only this time, doubly so. Now, apparently, since the last time I had to do this, it’s been decided that “consumer ease” is the big buzzword priority that all technology has to cater to, because I was prompted no less than 20 times over the course of the two set ups to “link” a variety of apps, devices, usernames, passwords, contacts, pictures, songs, tweets, birth rights, fingerprints, hair follicles, and feces samples. Ok, so maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I don’t actually have any tweets.


“Insert Poop Disc 2?”

I assume that all of this connectivity is so that no matter where I go, or what I’m on, I’ll be comforted by the knowledge that I’ll always have access to my digital collection of tentacle porn. But you know what? Sometimes, I don’t want everything I own to be in reach at all times. Not only that, but for something that is supposed to consolidate all of my stuff, there’s an aggravating amount of excess that comes with it. An example: between my phone and my computer I have four different programs that are all basically Gchat. To my surprise, upon setting up my phone, my log in information was automatically shared with each program, and now whenever someone sends me a message, I get it four times. My phone did not ask me if it could do this. It just assumed, using a clearly superior understanding of my own desires than I have, that OBVIOUSLY it was just saving me time and doing me a favor by installing these preferences automatically. But I also have to give credit to the brilliant choice of the design team to make it so that I can’t figure out how to log out of any of these. God forbid I wouldn’t be online when a friend needs to text me, “hey hey”. (Or in my case, “hey hey” “hey hey” “hey hey” hey hey”).


The good ol’ days. When a man was a man, and a shoe was a phone.

I guess this is all just an inherent feature of “living in the cloud”. But let me ask you this: when you think of a cloud, what’s the first thing that pops into your mind?  Connectivity? Ease of Access? You know what I picture when I see a cloud? RAIN. STORMS. Why do we back up all of our important data to “the cloud” when one of the main defining features of physical clouds is that they are completely unstable and will break apart and seriously fuck up your plans when they get overburdened? The last thing I want my data to do is suddenly fall back down upon me in a gushing uncontrollable torrent of old high school essays and stolen music. And that lightning has got to be bad for the electronics.


“That cloud looks like a shark, and that cloud looks like technological determinism.”

Maybe I’m just old fashioned. I used to consider myself fairly adept at all these new computer shenanigans, but the more “advanced” they get, the more I feel like my control is being taken away from me for what I’m being told is my own good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to just put on my coke-bottle glasses, hitch up my suspenders, pop in my dentures, and go yell at waitresses.

Things I Hate #002: Times Square

Whenever I visit New York, I always have an inescapable urge to travel around and “see the sights”. It’s like the reptilian part of my brain crawls out from whatever dark recess it’s been hiding in and perches on my shoulder saying things like, “I bet the Statue of Liberty will be interesting THIS time!” or “That ironic New York slogan T-Shirt would look great with my camo shorts!” But the thing is, despite how many times I go through these pointless rituals and swear that, ok, this is totally the last time I buy a jumbo hot dog from that slightly greasy mustached man behind the Synagogue, I keep repeating the same mistakes every time I visit. Case in point, motherfucking Times Square. I get it, it’s one of the “highlights” of New York.  Walking out of the Subway into the sprawling mass of electronic billboards and vaguely creepy hispanic street performers dressed as Disney characters, you can’t but help be momentarily shell-shocked, like a soldier splashing through the Normandy waters on D-Day.

d01_0p011976“Hurry, before tickets to The Lion King sell out!”

Times Square is basically the furthest you can get from the natural environments of our primitive ancestors. No plant life of any sort (unless you count the sporadically placed potted trees), flashing lights everywhere you look, and absolutely no cover whatsoever in case a predator begins to track your scent (represented in modern times by those dudes who will literally try everything in their power to hand you a pamphlet for the FREE CRUISE that you could win). There’s a reason that most apocalyptic end-of-the-world movies show a ruined Times Square covered by nature and wildlife: because it’s just so inconceivable that anything with a trace of Mother Earth still nestled within could step foot five feet from the entrance without burning up in a flash of carcinogens and sleaze.

blulegend1bFurther proof that intelligent human life is unneeded to put on a performance of Wicked

But none of that is what really bugs me about Times Square. I haven’t stepped foot in any thing remotely resembling nature in weeks, so who am I to complain? No, the biggest problem with Times Square, the most offensive, disgusting, soul-sucking piece of the puzzle is a little devil spawn location affectionately called “M&Ms World”. Now, if you are wondering what exactly “M&Ms World” is, then you are not alone. Despite the literal nature of the name, “M&Ms World” was not what I expected it be: a conceptual replication, in the vein of a Renaissance Faire, of an alternative universe in which the world has been taken over by miniature chocolate candies and humans only exist for the purpose of unholy ritualistic worship. Rather, and quite disappointingly, it is a store solely dedicated to M&M merchandise, including, but not limited to, T-Shirts, Coasters, Plush Dolls, Pillows, Golf Balls, Ear Buds, Magnets, and pretty much anything else they could slap those idiotic candy faces on. In other words, my initial impression of the alternative universe wasn’t that far off.


I’m not sure if this is a threat

What truly boggles the mind is that the website for “M&Ms World” has a merchandise section for Pet Apparel, yet there is not actually anything there. You have to wonder, are they just saving the area on the off chance someone eventually comes up with a Pet based product, or were the items they were selling such a base infringement on animal rights that they had to be removed? Perhaps it’s better not knowing.

Things I Hate #001: Blogging

Oh ho,” you must be thinking.

You’ve done it this time, Aaron. A blog where you write about things you don’t like and the first thing you write about is blogging.” You smile wryly as you shake your head ever so slightly. “Surely, with this simple act you have transcended the innate douchebaggery of a personal complaint blog and gifted onto us a new age of self-depreciating meta-humor. Bravo, old friend. Bravo.”

Or maybe you’re thinking, “Go fuck yourself, that’s not actually as funny as you think it is, and neither is your stupid intro.”

Well, hold on to your suspenders, Prissy Longstockings, because I’m gonna do it anyways!

Image70s Pop Culture Reference, Ahoy!

So. Blogging. Basically, a blog is what happens when a writer runs out of ideas to get his work noticed and decides to just post daily personal articles and spam links on his Facebook feed. Blogs operate off the idea that people are interested in what other people think, which means we’re working with faulty logic from the get-go. It’s the equivalent of small talk, only the person you’re talking to has taken your question of “So what are you up to?” as an invitation to tell you all about his new rash in vivid detail. And the moment you try to tell him you’re not really interested in hearing about that, he gives you a list of the best techniques for applying Balmex all over your ass.

ImageStep #1: The Bend N’ Spread

The truth of the matter is that everyone wants to feel like they know the most about something. Even the world expert on ferret poop is still an expert. (Coincidently, if you’ve been waiting to show off your ferret poop knowledge, now is apparently the time.) We’re all looking for a sense of accomplishment, and what better way to get that then to broadcast our personal quirks out to a bunch of random strangers. I mean, the odds are good, right? Of all the people, in all the world, surely there must be someone who is interested in reading about hungover owls?


This guy.

Here’s another thing I hate about bloggers. There’s too fucking many of them who decided they had the BEST. IDEA. EVER. and then only made a few posts and never looked at them again because no one ever read them. (Not like my blog, of course.)  Now, usually I would be all for the untimely collapse of someone else’s hopes and dreams, but these little Hindenburgs have found a way to reach out from beyond the grave to piss me off: domain names.

Do you know how many fucking clever names I had to go through in order to find one that wasn’t taken? Like ten. Take, for example, this guy. I don’t even understand what is going on there. It’s not daily, and there’s nothing one could consider carp-based, fish or otherwise. Or how about this motherfucker? Granted, “carpe carpe” means Seize the Seize, which admittedly I only found because I misspelled this overused joke. But come on! That site was made in 2009 and the person never even made a post! To be fair, neither “Go Take a Carp” or “CarpCarpCarp” have been taken, but those were desperation moves.

So I guess what it comes down to is this: If I hate blogs so much, then why am I writing this in the first place? Well, people have told me that a good way to deal with negative attitudes is to write a list of everything you hate, and a list of everything you love. By doing this, you can cut through your preconceived notions and see what matters the most to you in life. But, I’m kind of lazy, so I’m just going to do the first part.