Things I Really, Really Hate Right Now

This Goddamned Thing

The mother of my wife's main client (not as glamorous as it sounds, I promise) bought this for my daughter for her first birthday. Initially it was cute the way my daughter would press the buttons randomly and even do a little dance when it would start playing music. Then my daughter eventually started hitting buttons obsessively. Feverishly even. And in many instances it would be the same button. For example, it you hit that green heart button underneath the steering wheel, Winnie the Pooh will say, "I believe Piglet is hiding under the heart key." Then some music plays through the shitty speaker and I pray for death.

But with my daughter, who loves to press the same button to create an external mantra, it's "IbelieveIbelieveIbelieveIbelieveIbelieve..." It's enough to lose your goddamned mind. And I usually lose it when she hits those buttons when I try to watch 1, I repeat 1 20-something minute episode of The Soup or what the hell ever is on the DVR. I usually push the goddamned thing over and it stops.

I've made my disdain for this toy known around the house and normally my wife will make me feel like an asshole for hating it because my daughter loves it. Especially now that she's walking, attempting to ride, stand upon and push it around the house. But even my wife hates this goddamned thing. She actually asks my daughter, who can respond in nothing but a dozen words she can use in context and random chortling, if we can throw it out. And of course she usually walks over to and starts playing with it.

To prove I'm not a total dick, I will share one thing I love to do with this goddamned thing. My daughter has recently taken to riding this thing but her legs aren't long enough where she can push herself yet. So Da-Da pushes her. From one end of the small, but modest house to the other end. And I hang onto her as I push her briskly through the house, but I like to pretend that my daughter is a tiny Batman (or Batgirl if you want to get technical) on the Batpod. I'll do the sound effects and my daughter gets a kick out of it. So when we get back to where we started I'll aim the Batpod, I mean goddamned thing toward a box she likes to sit in (that's right, sit in--kids are weird) and lift her up into the air ejector seat-style while the goddamned thing careens into the box. Boom!!!

The Fact That Fight Club Doesn't Really Do It For Me Anymore

I've made myself a vow to not use the phrase back in the day after I use it this one last time.

Back in the day I was all over Fight Club. I saw it 4 times in its opening week and maybe 10 times during its theatrical run. Granted, I was 24 at the time but that may explain why Fight Club spoke to me in what seemed to be crystalline eloquence at the time. Compound that with David Fincher's brilliant direction, Brad Pitt's enigmatic charisma with which he played Tyler Durden, Edward Norton's deflated everyman quality, Helena Bonham Carter in general and damn near everything else about the movie. Not to mention what I thought at the time was a killer story.

Then I watched Fight Club again a few nights ago for the first time in maybe 5 or 6 years. I'd officially burnt out on it a week after it came out on DVD so I definitely needed a rest from it. But watching it again after a long Fight Club sabbatical I finally realized what a pretentious movie it is. And Jesus Fuck, does Fight Club love itself.

Norton's narration was smug, the propaganda Pitt spewed was often nonsensical and the screenplay gives itself way more credit than it deserves. Granted, Fight Club has its moments and has many of them. It just doesn't have as many as it thinks it has.

In the movie's defense, I have changed a hell of a lot since the last time I saw Fight Club. I'm now a husband and a father. I'm also a homeowner if that counts for anything. But most importantly, I've shed that overinflated sense of self-importance that this movie's audience and let's face it, cult thrive upon. I've also come to the conclusion that I not only am not, but never was interesting. Fight Club is still interesting and maybe even great from a filmmaking standpoint, but it definitely didn't hold up for me and definitely isn't as interesting as it thinks it is.

The Jonas Brothers

Do you really need me to go into this? Fine, I will. Look at them. Just look at them. I can forgive the fact that they're dressed like gay (and I mean that in the homosexual way, thank you) hipsters who can't pull it off but don't realize they can't pull it off. They're teenagers, so that miserable collectively brooding look on their dopey faces can get overlooked too. And truth be told, the fact that they look like they're defecating in this picture is vaguely endearing. I'd also like to mention I am in no way, shape or form jealous of the fact that millions of young girls who want to mount their allegedly abstinent asses. And since they're teenagers in a band, that band is going to suck. Singing about feelings, being Disney boy-whores, and dumping Hannah Montana. Badly. That's fine. I don't care about those things at all.

Before I get to what's really sticking in my craw is them showing up on Saturday Night Live and ruining the show. Alec Baldwin hosted and I've never seen a bad or boring episode with Baldwin hosting. Then the Jonas Brothers show up and shit the bed. And that skit with Baldwin as the lost Jonas brother, Gary wasn't funny.

Another reason I'm hating on these bitch boys is their co-butchering of Stevie Wonder's "Superstition" at the Grammys. Granted, Wonder's best days are behind him and the contrived pairing of and R&B legend with the current big thing didn't promise the definitive version of the song, but at least learn the fucking words to the song you shower of bitches! Stevie Wonder is blind, not deaf, you pube-headed fucks!

Now listen you gang of assclowns. You're Milli Vanilli, not the fucking Beatles. You're going to end up as a fucking punchline on some awful show that VH-1 hasn't even thought of thinking up yet. The world is waiting for you to get busted with a hooker, get caught with your wee-wee in some New Jersey glory hole, come out of the closet or just fucking die already. I'd invest more energy in hating you but I know once your 15 minutes is up, someone else will come along and take your place.

These Truck Balls Things

I know people who drive pickup trucks generally aren't known for their highbrow humor, but it's so incredibly hard for me right now not to rattle off half a dozen stereotypes about them. And if you're wondering exactly which stereotypes I'd be rattling off just think of the words you might be a redneck if or just watch Deliverance.

But how low-rent and classless do you have to be to actually hang a pair of rubber testicles from the tail end of your fucking Tonka truck? We get it, we get it. You're truck's got balls! We can tell from the muddy, muddy mudflaps and the fact that its a pickup truck. Oh, and the gun rack and the NRA sticker were a couple other subtle tells.

What did you pay for those things? $15? $20? I'm going to guess there are light-up ones out there and if you didn't drink half your unemployment check away the night before I'm guessing they would be adorning (that means hanging off of) your vehicle (truck) right now. But then again, old Sheriff Hunnicutt would be able to find you anywhere and one more DUI means you can only drive your truck to work during landscaping season! Remember when all those negros were wearing those light-up shoes when they'd steal TVs and that's how the cops found them? Well that's the same damn thing!

The Wiggles

The Wiggles are evil. Plain and simple. You can hate them but you can never fully justify hating them. Sure they're creepy, they're annoying and they sure as shit can't pronounce the letter R, but they beat the hell out of 98% the kids entertainment available today. But oooh! I hate them!

The costume, song and dance numbers are creepy as shit and get stuck in your head like a nasty, hairy piece of gum on your shoe. The people on the show are even creepier. Look at the one in purple. The one of questionable heritage. If you can't take the face he's making in this picture you should just burn your retinas out if you ever find out you're going to have a kid. Then look at big red on the other end. Look at that Lurch motherfucker. I keep waiting for this bastard to pop out of my hi-def TV and teabag me. I don't mind the one in blue too much but that prick in yellow. Oh, that motherfucker. How I hate that son of a bitch. I hate him singing, I hate his stupid dances and I hate his greasy head. But that face. I hate that fucking face of his.

But I hate The Wiggles because you can't hate them. Hating The Wiggles is like hating a kitten. Sure they piss on your shit, claw up your couch and maybe even whine all night, but you can't hate it. And its similar with The Wiggles. All they do is sing old lullabies, classic songs and the like. Nothing ADD or truly obnoxious, just... wholesome.

And isn't that worth hating?