The Courtesy Flush Blog

How to Spot a Douchy Parent

2010-08-25T08:24:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted since March, but like a dog that inevitably licks himself in the fun area, I have returned to doing what I do best- complain. I became a parent last April. It was a scary experience. And not just because I became unavoidably responsible and human feces on my hands became normal, but because I became even more aware of what tools other parents can be. I've been appalled to play soccer with my son at the park, only for some four-year-old who should totally know better to take the ball away from him. Since I can't exactly punt the kid into oncoming traffic, you can imagine my frustrations.

So, anyway, through my travels, I have narrowed my list for how to pick out a douchy parent to the following characteristics:

- Kids names all start with the same initial

Here are my children, Frankie, Freddy, Fiona and Fuckface! Aren't they adorable? No. They're pretty unpleasant-looking. Starting your children's names with the same letter is no more creative than dressing them in nauseatingly matching outfits. Don't get me started on that shit.

- They are wearing a #1 Dad shirt, hat and wristbands

Nothing says "punch me fast" like these overly exuberant family men whose wardrobe consists of these ghastly MVP Dad gimmicks. Just because disinfectant wipes are now your life is no reason to give up hope you can still be at least kind of "cool." I mean, come on man. And it's always doofy white guys who wind up going in this dark, dark direction.

Guys who wear this hat have as much personality as this bearded mannequin does.

- Fanny packs. My God, the fanny packs...

There is absolutely no excuse for this. You have pockets, your unsightly wife has a purse, you're probably carrying a diaper bag the size of Vern Troyer. Why the need to dangle personal items over your nutsack? Is it really so small you feel inclined to hide it? I feel sorry for you. And your child who has such a nerdy father to look up to.

Thanks for crushing my childhood image of what a real man is, brother!

- Their kids are pooping in crayon boxes and coloring on toilets

Hey mom, guess what?! When that child of yours popped out of your vag and eventually figured out how to put one foot in front of the other, he became your responsibility until he gets hooked on crack in college. Letting your child roam free and not creating boundaries for them isn't being liberating, it's being an asshole. Kids need rules. Otherwise, they'd whiz in your mashed potatoes and when you laughed, they'd think that was acceptable. Hence, you'd raise a dickhead bully who thinks fucking with other people's shit is kosher. Way to go, Antonio Cromartie.

- You call their house and their 14-month-old is on their answering machine

Quite possibly the coup de gras of parental douchyness is allowing your barely literate child to leave the outgoing message on your home answering machine. Here's a general rule: If your kid is a well-spoken five-year-old and you think it's cute to have her represent your household to literally anyone who calls, that's fine I suppose. But if your toddler sounds like Helen Keller choking on a donut, let her play with a fucking BABY phone. Pretty sure that's what those are for.

- They proudly display their child's meaningless scholastic achievement on their rear bumper

You've seen them. Oh, we've all seen them.

"Proud Parent of a an Honor Roll Student at Douche-Chill School for the Deaf"

And then there's the bumper stickers that attempt to counteract this:

"Proud Parent...Period!"

So, if you're keeping score, the kid in the first scenario is kinda smart, but his parents are announcing this one accomplishment just in case this is the end of the road and his intelligence stops with 2+2. The kid in the second scenario is an idiot and his parents don't want to admit it.

There are plenty of other ways to spot a douchy parent- if they bring their child to a non-child-friendly event (like a hanging), if the kid's name is Kyle, Chad, or an abstract hippie concept like Faith or Inner Peace, etc. The hate goes on...

Thanks for reading. I'm currently in the home stretch of finishing my fiction book, which has been a labor of love for years now. I think I can, I think I can!

jdp

jdeprospero@gmail.com

Understanding the Hate: Five Things I Would Change About American Idol

2010-03-05T07:06:00.000-08:00

I watch American Idol. As a singer, I feel compelled to watch, despite the fact that it loses me miles of respect with my circle of male friends. It frequently disappoints me, I often find myself thinking, "I could even do better than that," but it's the one show on TV I've tuned into religiously for the past five years. And although I'll defend my viewership to anyone who hurls tomatoes in my direction, some of the lamer aspects of the show are starting to become more obvious as the seasons go by and they don't change. So, with that in mind, here's a brief list of the top five things I think need to change on the show in order for it to thrive beyond this season (but mainly to make it easier for me to defend it).

* Making the loser sing right after they've been voted off.

We voted this hack off for a reason. Because we DON'T want to hear them sing. So what does AI do? Why they make them sing again! And what song do they have them sing? The very same song that failed them the night before. Brilliant, Idol producers. Remind me not to come to you after I've experienced a grave disappointment in life. "Fell off a horse and broke your neck? Well saddle up again, partner!"

* Puke-worthy group sing-a-longs

The judges continually encourage the contestants to stand out and be an individual- be your own artist. Then what do they do? They have them all sing a Top 40 pop hit to start each results show, like it's the fucking Mickey Mouse Club. When Chris Daughtry was a contestant, he looked so incredibly uncomfortable during the group songs that you'd think he was carrying a load in his pants. It totally puts people like him (and this season's Crystal Bowersox) in unfitting situations that only takes away from their artistry, and certainly doesn't add to it.

Okay, right when you guys hit the chorus, point in unison at the audience. But be original.

* Contestants blaming their poor performance on "I was just having fun."

Having fun is not a good excuse for totally sucking....in any aspect of your life. If you cheat on your wife and she catches you, would you shrug your shoulders and say, "Hey, I was just havin' fun. I like blowjobs and she was hot. Cut me some slack"? No. Then don't say it after you've clearly tanked while trying to pull off Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing." We, as the audience, would much rather you were miserable and just sang well.

* Showing other contestants in the background who aren't singing

They constantly do this. They make the other singers stand in back of that railing behind the stage, forcing them to awkwardly bob their head and sway their body to the music and try not to shit themselves as they wait for their turn on stage. If you're in that position and you're a rock singer dancing to a pop song, you instantly lose credibility. However, if you just stand there and don't react at all to the music, you look like a prick. Thanks for the no-win situation, Idol folks.

* Hammering home the sob story

I can understand that part of the appeal of this show is that each particular singer has his or her own country song about how they got there. But once we know their story, leave it at that for God's sake! By week 6, I no longer care if Andrew Garcia is trying to make a better life for his malnourished, underprivileged son. That's all fine and good, but him being a good father and making up for his crackhead parents doesn't put new songs on my iPod. In fact, here's a good story. Once upon a time, there was a man who could fucking sing! The end.

This is the first season I can remember that I haven't voted once. Think about that, American Idol. And heed my advice.

-jdp

Coffin in Your Face: Why Attending Wakes & Funerals is a Stiffer Punishment Than Death...and How to Fight It

2010-02-22T08:48:00.000-08:00

I don't have a fascination with death. Regardless of the fact that I participate in celebrity death pools and frequently envision the potential outpouring of sadness, or lack thereof, at my own services, I'm not one of these people who watches the news nightly to get my fill of tragic infant drownings. I'm much more interested in discussing the social awkwardness that these deaths create. It's less depressing and far less people are exploring this avenue. So, with that said, here is a collection of some of the reasons why I believe, when it comes to wakes and funerals, the corpse has it easy...

* What's worse than canned tomato sauce? Canned conversations.

I feel like one of those wind-up dolls from the second I walk into a wake till the second I leave. Because there's only a handful of sentences you're allowed to say when attending these events. You are generally confined to the following:

"At least he/she isn't suffering anymore."
"He/she is in a better place."
"Let me know if there's anything I can do."

I refuse to say any of these trite, overused phrases. You know what I do instead? I surprise them with something out of left field, like, "She always cooked with just the right amount of onions." or "It's a shame he never got into Backgammon. I feel like he would've been good at that." They always stare and act confused, but at least they're not crying.

"If there's anything you need, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask anyone other than me."

* Happiness is frowned upon

You have an unwritten obligation to be melancholy at wakes and funerals. Any time I'm at one and I realize that I'm smiling, I try to pretend that I'm on pain medication due to the sorrow and that inappropriate smiling is a side effect. Everyone knows it's bullshit, though. Particularly my wife, who sits there shaking her head in disgust at my egregious lies.

* "I feel so alive! Oh...sorry for rubbing it in."

There's a tendency to feel guilty at funerals, just for the simple fact that you're breathing and someone else in the room isn't. To counteract this feeling of remorse, I try to casually bring up a hardship I've recently experienced so I don't feel as undeservingly fortunate. I'll say something like, "Facebook hasn't been loading for me quickly on my Blackberry. What's up with that?" Then I look around and notice that everyone is knowingly nodding in empathy. Other times I'll go up to the coffin on crutches and everyone will ask, "Are you okay, Joe?" And I'll reply, "Oh, it's just a broken femur. I'll be fine, it's Uncle John who you should be worried about, who just lost his wife of 45 years and will surely be looking for the nearest bridge off which to leap." I always come out looking completely noble, people feel sorry about my broken leg, and no one even remembers that someone just died. It's a win-win.

* "Would anyone care for some finger foods? Great, then eat your fingers."

There is never, ever any food at wakes. Hell, there's not even napkins at wakes. The only way you're getting fed is if you're a family member or close friend and make it out to the funeral and there's usually a repast if you make it to the end of this gloomy gauntlet. And the night wakes are almost always 7-9. That's right in the middle of my normal dinner time! You could at least put out a tray of Bagel Bites. Chips. Peanuts. Something! The only real solution to this is to host a tailgate in the parking lot. It might not be your responsibility, but if the ignoramuses in mourning won't do it, the weight falls on your hospitable shoulders.

These beauties will enhance the mood of any death gathering.

* I'm missing the American Idol results show for this?!

You have to pretend that attending these services is more important to you than finding out live who got booted off "I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!" Thankfully, these days we have DVR to fall back on (which I'm convinced was invented by a chronic wake-attender tired of having to program his VCR). When I was kid, I left my girlfriend's father's wake to call my mother and make sure she was taping a Van Halen concert I'd been looking forward to for months. We wound up breaking up shortly thereafter, and coincidentally, so did the band. But at least I saw the show.

"You better hope Grey's Anatomy's a rerun tonight, you inconsiderate old bag!"

* When it comes to fashion, don't outshine the corpse.

You're encouraged to dress like you're ready to be placed in a coffin when you attend wakes or funerals (black suit, white shirt, plain tie). I guess they figure just in case you die while you're at the wake, half their work is already done for them. If you're a woman, a bold act of defiance would be to wear the shortest skirt you can find in the loudest print you can find and make out with the highest ranking mourner in the room. You may not be invited to the next family reunion, but who would want to be anyway?

In conclusion, if you die and attend your own wake as a ghost and I'm either smiling, eating, dressed nicely, or not there, now you know why.

Thanks for reading. Podcast coming soon!

jdp

Bloggin' Around the Christmas Tree: Holiday Hangups that Piss Me Off

2009-12-21T10:11:00.000-08:00

I love Christmas as much as the next guy (who celebrates it), but more so than any other holiday, there's a series of stresses we need to get past in order to fully appreciate it angst-free. In a way, it's the ultimate holiday. It brings families together, stimulates the economy, and creates a sense of fulfillment from the gift-givers and satisfaction from the gift-receivers as we gather around the tree, delighted to be enjoying a four or five-day weekend snuggled together with our honey, sipping hot chocolate under a warm blanket. In another way, it's 4th of July, with shittier weather, no fireworks, more traffic, the underlying, painful need for external illumination and buying things for people we'd much rather impale with a finely sucked-on candy cane.

But I'm not here to complain about the aspects of Christmas that we all know are annoying. I'm here to complain about the little annoyances you might not have even thought of! So, in the interest of time and your own morbid curiosity, here a few of the reasons why, when I hear Santa's sleigh overhead on Christmas Eve, I weep a little into my pillow.

* Animals dressed as festive human beings

People who get a little too "into" having a pet is the root cause of this abomination, that unfortunately doesn't stop on December 25th. It starts earlier in the year with celebrating its birthday as if it's an actual celebratable event and ends with sending Christmas cards that include a picture of the reluctant animal in front of a wintry backdrop. Make no mistake, I fully support PETA members hurling eggs at you if you're caught strapping a Santa suit on your Chihuahua. Actually, scratch that and substitute hammers for eggs. I think them throwing eggs would be an inherent contradiction. But anyway, animals don't want to be dressed as if they were humans. Would you want to take shits in public and be led around by a chain? I think I made my point.

* Christmas songs with deceivingly wrist-slashing lyrics

I'm not one of these guys who complains when they start playing Christmas music before the rotting pumpkins are in the trash (I have the ability to change the station, as do all). But what often goes unnoticed is that a significant chunk of these songs revolve around heartbreak, sadness and despair! Look no further than "Merry Christmas, Darling" by the Carpenters. Sure, it initially brings a smile to your face. The sweet, sincere lyrics, the strings in the background to accompany said lyrics. Until you get to the last line..."If I had one wish on this Christmas Eve...I wish I were with you." Are you fucking serious?! I sat through this entire sugary ballad just to find out that you're singing about a lover who broke up with you, passed away, or worse yet, never even knew you existed? This is almost as bad as that God forsaken "Christmas Shoes" song, which really should have been titled, "Happy Holidays from the Graveyard (It Sucks That Mom is Dead)." This shit depresses me, and holidays aren't supposed to do that. If it was, Nirvana would've made a Christmas album.

* Why are all the carolers in fictitious, TV show towns?

In just about every movie or TV show about Christmas, there's always that one special scene where there's a ring of the doorbell and lo and behold, there's a team of carolers belting out "Deck the Halls" dressed like 1920s village folk. Well where the fuck are these people in my neighborhood? As far as I'm concerned, they're just as real as unicorns, because I've never seen, nor have I even heard of a sighting of them outside of a Lifetime special. If you've got an ensemble of joyous singers who own long dresses and goofy hats, drop me a line and I'll send you my address. I'm expecting magic.

* Christmas cards make great gifts...for the environment

If there ever was an endorsement for recycling, it's got to be mass produced holiday greeting cards. I understand the underlying need to acknowledge someone without wasting money on them, but I can't remember one time where I received a Christmas card in the mail that excited me (sexually, or otherwise). It's a social obligation and nothing more. And the worst are the cards where the only personalization are in the To: and From: field. It's no more personal than receiving an invitation to a one-day holiday sale at Macy's. And then I have to decide how long to keep them around before tossing them. What if they come over for a visit? Will they look for it? Ah, I can't be bothered. Fuck it.

* The office is completely empty and stress-free, why would I go home?!

I have a hard enough time choosing which days to take off of work normally...but around the holidays it's nearly impossible. Why would I take personal time the week of Christmas when there are less things going on at work than at the Neverland Ranch? Why would I throw away precious accumulated personal time when I can just as easily be wearing my pajamas at my desk than at the dinner table? It's a yearly struggle, really, and one that only gets tougher with time...like a festive STD. The only time I truly want to take personal time are the days when I'm so stressed out that vacuuming my house is my only refuge. And, of course, those are the days when taking off isn't possible. It's a total mind-fuck and it explains fully why so many people kill themselves on their day off.

* What's more annoying than the phrase "Happy Holidays"? People who complain about it.

Don't get me wrong. I find it just as ridiculous as you do that corporate offices around the country refer to the frasier fir in their lobby as the "holiday tree." There's no such thing as a holiday menorah, either. Christmas isn't one of George Carlin's seven dirty words, nor should it be. But just because you celebrate on December 25th, doesn't mean everyone does. Do you really expect your company president to announce "Merry Christmas" in a company-wide newsletter? He or she clearly has bigger fish to fry (and please) than you, posting as your Facebook status update, "Merry Christmas! Not happy holidays! I said Christmas!" Look, you're not a fucking revolutionary or a rebel just because you bypassed political correctness. In fact, I'm starting to think you're more of a douche bag than the "Happy Holidays" folk. If Santa Claus walks by, you're definitely right to wish him a Merry Christmas. But if Woody Allen knocks on your door, I give him full permission to kick you in the balls if you wish him the same.

I'm sure there's much more venom inside, but that's all that eeked out today. I sincerely wish each of you a Merry Christmas (if you celebrate it), a Happy Hanukah (although it might be done by now, for all I know), a Happy Kwanzaa (although none of my black friends claim to celebrate it) and a completely sarcastic, taunt-filled 2010. If I've made even one of you laugh with my nonsense, I consider myself a success. Ha, that's such a lie. One person would be a complete failure.

Anyway, happy fucking holidays,

jdp

jdeprospero@gmail.com

Glasses-Wearers Unite! The Ups and Downs of Having Four Eyes

2009-10-29T09:03:00.000-07:00

Before I went on to underachieve and disappoint my parents in college, I was once a wee, innocent first-grader in Mrs. Bosland's class. Already pining after girls instead of doing my homework, I knew something was wrong. Whenever the teacher would write something on the blackboard, it just looked like a bunch of jumbled up, blurry letters to me, but I was the only one in the class who seemed to have any problem with it. The other kids were answering questions, keeping pace, while I sat there completely and utterly confused (and occasionally, weeping). "There must be something wrong with me," I thought to myself. And there was something wrong. I was half fucking blind! They don't give you a vision test before they send you to school (which, in retrospect, makes little sense) so I just assumed everyone saw the way I saw and that I was just an idiot who couldn't figure it out. Twenty four years later, my opinion of myself hasn't changed much, but I have been able to narrow the effects of glasses on my life to the following pros and cons. So, here it go...

Con #1: Halloween costumes = always a fucking problem

To me, October is the marquee month. The temperature is near perfect for me, there's always that faint smell of a fireplace by the last week, and it is closed out by my favorite holiday, Halloween. The only problem? There are absolutely no legitimate costumes that aren't at least partially ruined by having to wear glasses. In the fourth grade, I dressed as one of my horror movie heroes, Freddy Krueger. But since I had to wear my specs with the costume, I looked more like Freddy's geeky younger brother, Teddy Krueger...who would console and play World of Warcraft with the families of the people he slaughtered.

Don't even get me started on masks. Your only options are to wear the glasses over the mask (which, if I need to say it, is completely unacceptable), or not wear them at all and count on your friends to guide you and hope they don't lead you through dog shit. Needless to say, it's a faulted experience.

Pro #1: Get out of doing pretty much anything...

Since people with perfect vision practically see us as handicapped, it's easy to squirm out of performing menial tasks like driving to the food store or paying online bills by simply pointing to the metal rims on your face and shrugging your shoulders. Pity is good.

Con #2: Peeing in the middle of the night is always a judgment call...

I'd imagine all male glasses-wearers can relate to this. You're awoken in the middle of the night by the unrelenting urges of an overfilled bladder. But you want to avoid getting up because, well, you're still half asleep. So you muster the strength to roll off the mattress and stumble to the bathroom. But you're not sure whether to put your glasses on because a) you're lazy, b) you can't find them in the dark or c) putting on your glasses means you're really waking up, which is a reality you can't quite face. So you either have to bite the bullet and reach for the glasses in the dark or just pee all over the toilet seat.

Pro #2: It's the ultimate accidental fashion accessory...

People already think I'm gay, so what's one more log on the fire? Since you're stuck with this on your face, you might as well make the best of it - and still manage to get laid in the process. Companies like Armani, Gucci, Dolce and Gabbana and Guess have been helping glasses-wearers get some for years. In fact, I'm pretty sure I owe my entire sex life to the helpful staff at Cohen's Fashion Optical for steering me towards designer frames. Where was this style revolution when I was getting slammed into lockers in 6th grade?

Con #3: The assumption is that you're a blind nerd who likes doing blind, nerdy things...

Anyone who's ever worn glasses regularly has gotten the schmuck in their face asking them, "How many fingers am I holding up?" And if murder was ever acceptable, I'd say this is the time. But that's the mentality that a lot of perfectly-visioned ignoramuses have. They think we're still blind, despite the corrective lenses right their on our faces. And it's also assumed that we're sexless nerds who like to play online chess and masturbate to the New York Times crossword puzzle....which is just absurd. In fact, if I make it as far as 7 ACROSS on that thing I consider it an achievement. And I'd masturbate to that.

Pro #3: People are reluctant to punch you in the face...

You wouldn't hit a guy with glasses, would you? Well, when polled, America told us that 67% of them would be less likely to strike an individual in or around the facial area if said person was wearing glasses. Okay, I made that poll up, but I don't doubt that it's in the neighborhood of accurate. If the downside of wearing glasses is that people don't think you're tough, the upside has to be that people will feel sorry for your weak ass and not pound on you. Right? Now, I know what you're thinking. But, Joe, you've been teased, mocked, pushed, slammed into lockers, and given countless wedgies as a kid. Yes, this is all true, but I was never once punched in the face. Just sayin'.

Con #4: Swimming is a monumental pain in the ass...

If you're half-blind like me, you're nodding your head at this point. Unless you can wear contact lenses or have prescription goggles (and really, the nerdiest of nerds won't even wear those), you have two options when you're at the beach or a pool. You can either keep your glasses on and risk losing them in the water and being "that guy", or you can take your glasses off and feel your way through it, hoping you don't pull a Greg Louganis on the diving board. Anyone who wears glasses will tell you that neither option is attractive. You either end up walking around with foggy lenses, losing them entirely, or worse yet, not being able to enjoy the nearby T&A parade. Fuck that.

Pro #4: They shield us from all evil!

In 6th grade science, I was one of the few who didn't have to wear protective goggles while dissecting a frog. Why? Because my protective goggles are already on my fucking face, baby! I remember feeling a sense of pride (with a dash of embarrassment) when Mrs. Stevens told the class, "Everyone put on their plastic goggles. Except for you nerds. Life has been hard enough on you, I don't think you deserve to be further nerdified by giving you yet another set of eyes." Okay, she didn't say any of that shit. And while we're on the topic, they make wonderful grass shields when mowing lawns.

Con #5: Making out is hard to do...

It's bad enough when one of the two has glasses, but when both do, it gives new meaning to "hot and steamy lovin'." There is simply no non-awkward way to make out with someone without the glasses becoming an issue at some point in your tongue-slapping session. It's kind of like trying to kiss your girlfriend, but your siamese twin brother is there. It's just uncomfortable. Three minutes in and your face looks like a downtown London morning. I mean, sure, you could take them off, but trust me, you'll need them later on.

Pro #5: There is no Pro #5...

This would've made the list even, but I honestly couldn't think of another benefit of wearing these things on our faces. I could've made something up, but I didn't want to bullshit you.

Con #6: Try watching TV in bed. I double dare you.

Like most things glasses-related, you can either be comfortable and blind or uncomfortable and sighted. If you're lying in bed and have any intention of catching the late edition of Sportscenter, or maybe even TBS's edited, yet passable reruns of Sex and the City, you only have one option: Position the TV at the foot of your bed and lay straight on your back. If the TV is anywhere else, you need to lay on your side and either prop your head up with your elbow or even worse, press your glasses into the pillow with your face. No matter what, you'll pass out and wake up once you realize there's something on your face in bed that shouldn't be there. Just writing about this pisses me off.

And in closing (because I prefer not to end on a negative note), a tribute to some of my favorite fellow glasses-wearers...

Thanks for reading,

jdp
jdeprospero@gmail.com

Embarrassing Things I'll Admit That I Probably Shouldn't - Part 1

2009-09-16T14:11:00.000-07:00

If you've known me for any extended period of time, you almost certainly know that I'm not easy to label. Oh, you can try to slap the "sophisticated, nice guy, wine drinker" label on me, but I'll counter that with a personalized bowling ball, a dick joke and a 25 year collection of pro wrestling memorabilia. Bottom line, I'm an enigma. And even I have a hard time figuring out why I am the way I am...and why I do the things I do. So, with that said, here's a collection of completely random confessions, that could only come from the warped mind of JDP...

* Sometimes, when I'm in the shower, I wonder if a ghost is watching me. And then I jump to all these crazy conclusions about who the ghost is and why they're there. Maybe it's my Grandpa Pat? Then I find myself rushing to get out of the shower because him seeing me naked is just plain gross. What if it's Marilyn Monroe? I suddenly find myself sucking my stomach in. It's weird, I know.

Is he "friendly" enough to check out my junk? I don't wanna know.

* Whenever I see two people who are about to collide with one another (like, coming around opposite sites of a bend), I sit back and let it happen. One could be carrying a wedding cake and the other a house of cards...doesn't matter to me. In fact, in situations like that, I'm more inclined to grab the closest camera to snap a shot of the eventual collision. It's like seeing a shooting star; I embrace the disastrous moment.

* Despite being raised a baseball fan, I haven't watched a full game (including ones I've gotten free tickets to) since about 1993. However, I've seen every episode of The Golden Girls at least twice. Don't get me wrong; playoff baseball can be extremely exciting. But regular season, no-playoff implication baseball? I'd personally derive more enjoyment from one of Rose's St. Olaf stories. It makes no sense that I'm straight, I realize that.

* On the day of my 8th grade dance in junior high school, I inexplicably took a suction cup and stuck it to my forehead (Hey, it was 8th period, I was in band and had forgotten my French horn. Hence, I was nerdy and bored). So, the cup clung to my forehead as I frantically tried to yank it off. Eventually, after a painstakingly long 45 seconds, I was able to free my skin from this idiot death trap. Long story short, I went to the dance solo with a ping pong ball-sized red circle between my eyes, obviously covered in makeup that my sister had applied. For those wondering, (if being in band with a red circle on my face didn't give it away) I did NOT get laid that night.

Life sucks. Sometimes it sucks on your forehead.

* I did not care for the movie The Matrix. In fact, I fell asleep on it in the theater. I did, however, greatly enjoy the delightfully optimistic romantic comedy Love Actually, starring the unmistakably charming Hugh Grant. See last line of confession #3.

* The first "album" I ever personally purchased was MC Hammer's "Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em" in 1990. Looking back at what my other options were- Faith No More's "The Real Thing," Aerosmith's "Pump"...I'm even more embarrassed. It's like looking back at the 1984 NBA draft when Sam Bowie was selected over Michael Jordan. A travesty.

Please Children, Don't Buy 'Em

* When I was in 8th grade (not a good year for me, clearly), I was chosen as "Athlete of the Month" in gym class- sadly my greatest "academic achievement." The gym teacher asked me to answer a series of questions on a piece of paper and next thing I knew, it was blown up on a poster board outside the boy's locker room, so the entire school knew that my favorite movie was "Ghost." I thought those answers were a private share between Mr. Smith and I! See last line of confession #3, again.

Although my manhood was seriously questioned for liking this movie, I still think this scene is pretty hot. Because of Demi Moore. I swear.

* I was in an indoor kickball league when I was about six years old. Sounds fun, right? Well, I made it through all of one game. Well, not even one game, technically. I was rounding third to come home and score a run and literally couldn't find where home base was marked on the gym floor. I started jumping up and down, flailing my arms and crying. I was tagged out. My indoor kickball career began, and ended, there.

Wahhhhh! There go my dreams of making all star!

* My iPod contains music from all of the following artists except for one: Madonna, Whitney Houston, Miley Cyrus, The Grateful Dead, George Michael. I'll give you a hint- it's the only one on this list that isn't completely humiliating.

* After watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory as a kid, I took the gum out of my mouth and stuck it behind my ear (after all, Violet claimed to have set some kind of longevity record for placing it there in between chews). My Grandma Eleanor was babysitting me at the time, and had the unenviable task of cutting Hubba Bubba out of my hair with a scissors, while intermittently grunting, "God dammit!" and "I don't know what the hell you did here!" Not my brightest moment.

Apparently, my role model as a child...

I'm sure there will be more editions of this to come, as I've got a whole sack-full of embarrassing tales to tell about myself. And this is just the stuff I'm willing to share!

-jdp

jdeprospero@gmail.com

The Top 10 Most Irritating Facebook Users

2009-08-13T10:15:00.000-07:00

We all know at least one person who we've lost our patience with after becoming Facebook friends and discovering what a complete waste of oxygen they are. So, since the name of this blog is The Courtesy Flush, below is a Top 10 list (in somewhat random order) of who I believe should be flushed off of Facebook entirely, for the betterment of our eyes, minds, and more importantly, our entertainment.

1) Everyone Come Read My Insipid Updates!

These are perhaps the worst of the bunch. I've always lived by the philosophy that if you can't say something at least borderline interesting, just shut the fuck up. No one needs to know that you're preparing for a conference call or that you just vacuumed the pubic hair off your bathroom carpet. These are the painstaking details of the day that your brain tells you not to share with others. If you're doing a line of coke with Amy Winehouse, post it. If you're drinking a can of coke with Amy Nobody, keep it to yourself. No one needs to know each time you drop a deuce, you self-absorbed dolt.

2) Baby, I'm Bored

I feared that I might become one of them when I had a child. Thankfully, by the grace of God, I resisted. I'm talking about these people who think it's "cute" to update everyone on their child's oh-so-thrilling daily routine of drooling and shitting themselves. "Today, Spencer said 'Mommy, I love you lots.' How adorable is he?!" Lady, no one likes you, and by default, you're making them hate little Spencer, too. Repeat after me: Just because I'm excited about something, doesn't mean anyone else will be. You should have your tubes tied...around your neck.

3) Oh Hey, Look at My Hotel Room From THIS Angle

When posting photos on Facebook (or anywhere for that matter), think of it like assembling a greatest hits album for a band or artist. Only include the best of the best. It allows you to get to the point and not waste the time of those bound to view them. For example, when you're posting pictures from your wild trip to Vegas, you can leave out the 13 pictures of the fucking sunset you took when you were high on angel dust. An argument should be seen from different sides. Your haggard Aunt Lisa? I think one distant shot of her ugly ass will suffice.

4) The Tag Hags

Don't get me wrong; I like the tagging concept that Facebook has employed. I consider this one of its most lucrative tools. And speaking of tools, there is a whole heap of shit-for-brains who've taken this too far. I mean, if half of your friend's ear is in the shot, is it really worth the tag? I guess it was funny at first, but now it lost its novelty and is just plain annoying. The next person who tags someone's toe is getting tagged in return as "This one has Chlamydia."

5) Today's Forecast: Partly Douchey

These Neanderthals are cut from the same cloth as the baby-updaters and the put-you-to-sleep mafia. The clouds fill the sky, winds blow ominously through the trees, and the distant sound of thunder is heard. Raindrops gather on your windshield. And you know what's next. Everyone, pull your car to the side of the road, log onto Facebook and let everyone know how precipitation has ruined your perfect fucking existence!!! Seriously, the world already has one Al Roker and that's one too many, for my liking. And besides, it's rain, not battery acid. I think you'll survive. Pussy.

6) 3...2...1...Shit Balls!

12 more days till Cruefest!

6 more days until vaca!

4 more days and my herpes outbreak should clear up!

Listen, I don't need daily numbered reminders of whatever insignificant life event you're orgasming over. If I wanted to see a washed up hack who can't put a sentence together count to zero, I'd watch Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve. If you insist on doing this, just know that as your days get smaller, as does your number of friends. Shithead.

7) I'm Sorry, Are You Lost? Or Just an Asshole?

There is a site for people who want to post 10 or more blathering status updates a day. It's called Twitter. If you think you honestly can't limit your number of daily word vomit instances, fly on over and "tweet" there. Facebook is reserved for the less prolific dullards only.

8) "Cause"ing Me Grief

Note to those who send me virtual drinks, hugs, cause invites, smiles, and requests to join your legion of online game-nerds: I ignore everything. If I thought "supporting" anti-animal cruelty Facebook groups would give Michael Vick a bad case of the clap, I certainly would join. But seriously? You sent me a skull? What the fuck does that even mean?

9) Introducing, for the First Time as Husband and Wife...Mr. and Mrs. Toolbox!

There's nothing worse than hanging out with a couple who can't keep their hands and lips off of each other in social settings. That is, until Facebook came along and gave these goons the power to nauseate us in a new, hip way- virtual PDAs. Here's a general rule: No one wants to hear about someone else's successful, love-filled relationship. If you're happy with your boyfriend/wife, etc., good for you. Tell them you love them...to their FACE! Shit, you live together for God's sake! The rest of us are perfectly capable of keeping our happiness to ourselves. You make us feel like the game show contestants moping away with shitty parting gifts while you gleefully skip over to the bonus round. I would hate to play Scattergories with you fuckin' glory-hounds.

10) The Ambiguous Suicidals

Don't even get me started on these Emmy award winners. We all get depressed. It happens. Things don't go our way sometimes. But really, if it's that bad where you can't restrict your gloom to the three or four close friends who can still stand you, it's time to seek a therapist. Seriously. Enough with the vague "is tired of it all and needs an escape." WE now need an escape, from you. The next time I read a paragraph summing up how shitty your life is, it better be your obituary.

I'm sure I've left out some that you would've included. Like the ho who changes her relationship status five times in four weeks, the habitual quiz-takers, and people who include everything but themselves in their own profile picture. But I'll leave that for another rant on another day.

And what better way to close this out than with a song about this very topic...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55I83jEAIhk

Thanks for reading, even if you fall into one of the above categories and hate me now.

Photo courtesy of GeekSugar.com

- jdp

jdeprospero@gmail.com

Interpreting OfficeSpeak: Why Corporate Jargon Makes Spotting Douchebags Easier

2009-07-30T08:55:00.000-07:00

I've worked office jobs almost continuously since I was 16. So that means before I could legally drive in the state of New Jersey by myself, I've had to sit behind a desk surrounded by unfulfilled and underachieving dullards who find comfort in discussing the minutia of sitting in traffic on a Monday morning and nowadays, they can't resist posting whiny Facebook status updates the second a raindrop hits the pavement. Fourteen years later, and countless aggravating experiences on Route 46 later, I still have no desire to rehash these things. Yet, the norms of society force this upon me. That, and uncomfortable departmental meetings with people whose names I should know, but don't.

So, along with unnecessary discussions about the weather and traffic comes a whole slew of undesirable conversational nuggets that have spawned from corporate America like projectile vomit on a new pair of pants. I'm talking about these expressions that you hear around the cubicles that have crept into our vernacular and replaced our testicles with Dilbert-embroidered stress balls. I'm talking about these phrases that, when I hear them, make me want to put up an Out of Office message stating, simply, "Gone Killin'." Here are just a handful of these potentially murder-inducing expressions...

* Going Forward

Hey Joe,

Going forward, I'd really appreciate it if you would replace the printer paper instead of leaving it empty for the next person to fill.

Kind Regards,

Kyle McShithead

Just so we're clear, using "going forward" is simply a way of tip-toeing around the phrase "don't fuck up again like you just did." If you're going to call me out on something, just do it. If I wanted a half-hearted suggestion on how to improve myself, I'd ask my high school guidance counselor. And fuck your kind regards, too.

* Circle Back

I'm sure over the course of your career you've heard this gem. It means essentially the same thing as "get back" or even "go back." But apparently, the English language doesn't have enough words and expressions that mean the same exact thing (we did invent the terms "partly cloudy" and "partly sunny" after all), so someone in an office somewhere started using this instead of the already existing expressions that were working fine. A ferris wheel circles back. People don't. Just stop it already.

* Out of Pocket

If someone's been out of the office for a while, they might classify themselves as being "out of pocket." And I classify them as being a heaping pile of douche. The only pockets are on your pants or on pool tables. What's wrong with "unavailable" or just plain "out"? They've served us well for years. All of a sudden pretention walks in the door and they walk out. You have only yourselves to blame, corporate a-holes. We may never hear from them again. And yes, it's all your fault.

* Flesh it Out

This one just sounds gross. It sounds more like something Hannibal Lecter would do than a senior account executive. "Dr. Lecter, what'd you do for lunch?" "Oh, I fleshed it out, Clarice." He's the only one who should be using that expression. And maybe Joan Rivers' plastic surgeon(s). Otherwise, there's no need for this phrase to exist. Flesh this out, Kyle.

* Team Player

The only thing worse than not being a team player in your office is actually being a team player in your office. It's kind of like being the one friend in your crew who's really, really good at karaoke. It's just embarassing. Management will smile and call you a "team player" during your year-end review or on the flipside, will scold you for not being one. Being one essentially means that you've successfully transitioned from independently-thinking individual to mind-fucked corporate drone. You don't want this. If you're labeled a team player, that means they've won. This can easily be counteracted by showing up to work late regularly and always refusing lunch invites from your boss. And getting tattoos on your face.

* Going Green

I realize this isn't just exclusive to office environments, but it still fits under my umbrella of rage. And my God, when we find a buzz word in this country, we ride it into the ground. Ever since America got a boner over Al Gore, everyone has jumped on the "going green" bandwagon and started being more environmentally friendly- which to most people means throwing their cigarettes in their neighbor's yard instead of their own. So now, most offices have set up a few more recycling containers in break rooms and cafeterias. Yeah, I'm sure that'll save us.

* Thinking Outside the Box

Other than potentially being a witty name for a homeless man's (or Jenna Jameson's) autobiography, this expression is worthless to me. I can't think outside the box on command, because I have no idea what box people are referring to when they say this. The last time it was suggested I do this I kicked the guy swiftly in the groin. I'm sorry if I interpret it differently than you do. Oh, and Taco Bell? Shame on you for using a version of this soulless expression in your marketing campaign to give us all the shits.

* Touching Base

Ah, the micromanager's favorite term. I can see why they chose the language of the sport of baseball to merge with office lingo here. Standing on first base, waiting for something to happen is about as exciting as sitting at your desk, on a two hour long conference call of which your input is "Hello" and "Goodbye." So, in that way, I see the connection. But make no mistake, any time (and I do mean any time) someone calls you at your desk and tells you they're "touching base" on something, they're calling you incompetent. They haven't gotten the status update they wanted, so now they're passive aggressively demanding it. The next time someone "touches base" with you, hit them in the chest plate with a Louisville Slugger. Hopefully, they live to appreciate the irony.

* Pushing Back

Wanna feel like a badass while wearing khakis and a tie? The next time you're treated unfairly, simply send a an email to this person telling them something like "I'm sorry. I don't believe this falls within my job description. Perhaps we can brainstorm and come up with an alternative effective solution to get your clothes to the cleaners?" You sound like a real tough guy doing it, and no one will ever fuck with you again. Not even Chuck Norris.

I know there are plenty of others that pierce through your skulls and sap your will to live, but these are collectively the worst of the worst, for me.

In summary, if you are reading this and have somehow gotten away with not seeing the movie Office Space, it will sum up corporate life better than I ever could. So go watch it, before I proactively push back on your base-touchin', team player ass.

Feel free to post your favorite corporate expressions below! Misery, as they say, loves company.

Till next time,
jdp
jdeprospero@gmail.com

Musical Trends & Habits That Make Me Want to Impale My Ears with Drum Sticks

2009-07-21T10:59:00.000-07:00

Friends of mine are well aware of my love affair with music. We go way back. In the 6th grade, when the red-headed object of my affection said no, Aerosmith said yes. In 9th grade, when I failed physical science and had to suffer the indignity of un-air conditioned summer school with no pretty girls to be found, Green Day's "Dookie" was my main squeeze. If this is starting to sound creepy, you haven't heard about my messy breakup with Oasis.

Finding music, for me, was like finding the perfect mate. But even after finding that mate, you're bound to find flaws. This blog is about just that. More specifically, certain musical habits that have been chapping my ass for years. Let us begin the tongue-lashing...

* Red Hot Chili Peppers mentioning California

Guys, I love you. I really do. But seriously, stop it already. I fucking get it. You're from the state of California, birthplace of Dani California, Californication, home of the Dodgers. You mention this word about as often as Art Alexakis from Everclear says "Yeah." Bon Jovi is from New Jersey. They even named an album after it. But you don't hear them verbally felating it in a song. You guys are like born-again Christians bringing up Jesus. You're like an annoying new mom pushing wallet-sized photos on uninterested strangers. Here are some new states to sing about: Texas (rhymes with exes, flexes), Maine (the rhyming possibilities are endless), and North Carolina (The Bloodhound Gang came up with a clever rhyme for this one). What's frustrating is the Chili Peppers are a perfect band, aside from this glaring flaw. They're like the really hot girlfriend who talks about her ex too much. Don't ruin what we have, guys.

Anthony Kiedis just got a hard on...

* Dance remixes of songs that were fine the way they were

There's a reason when I go to the gym, I cling to my iPod like Rose clutched the big door after the Titanic sank. Without fail, KTU (or another similiar station with more power than they deserve) is playing an "upbeat" remix of a John Mayer, Killers, or Metallica song. Not everything was meant to be danced to, fuckers. I've heard a dance version of "Unbreak My Heart" by Toni Braxton. Actually, it was probably called "Unbreak My Heart (Big Ricky Riddler Dickface Club Mix)"Have you ever listened to the lyrics to that song? One of the lines is: "I can't forget the day you left, time is so unkind." Woohoo, where's that dancefloor?! You don't see us turning "Copacabana" into a rock epic. So, leave songs the way they were meant to be heard, and we'll all be happy. Or at least I will. And that's what I'm aiming for.

* Political messages in song

I know there's a certain percentage of you who think this is a real cute idea. But you're Bruce Springsteen, not the Secretary of Defense. Songs were meant to be sung about pining after women and sleeping with them, not the Gulf War. I never went into a music store thinking, "Gee, I'd really love to be reminded about civilian casualities in third world countries. And I would especially like this to be accompanied by a string section. Oh look, Midnight Oil!" I, for one, prefer my politics on the evening news, a cappella.

* Overly ambitious versions of the Star Spangled Banner

Every time a singer with something to prove steps up to belt out this standard, I can almost see Francis Scott Key rolling around in his or her grave. The runs, the trills, the gyrations. Is this the national anthem or a commercial for epilepsy? You know when they say less is more, they're talking about you, Carl Lewis.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJLvCM4j2mg

* The Black-Eyed Peas (and particularly, their most recent shitty single)

Hey, it's my blog, I'm allowed to be as subjective as I want. I just really can't stand these assholes. The fact that "Boom Boom Pow" has recently been iTunes' most downloaded song is a sign of the apocalypse, in my view. I've experienced more joy from a fire cracker in my pee hole than I have from this crapfest they call a song. For all I know, they could be really nice people who donate to charity and help little old ladies across the street. But fuck 'em. They annoy me.

* Screaming vocalists

Ah, if there ever was an oxymoron, this is it. Who needs a melody when you can just screech and wail like a burn victim? This is perhaps my biggest musical pet peeve. If you can write a song and have musical ability, you're a musician. If you're pissed off because they stopped playing Alf reruns on TBS and you set your bitching to distorted guitars, you're just a really loud, bitter guy, accompanied by noise. Yeah, yeah, I can see hardcore music fans who listen to Static-X and Slipknot getting pissy about this. And if so, feel free to slap on some dark eye shadow, find the nearest guitar and write a barely coherent screamo song about it. You'll feel much better.

Hey kid, if you didn't wear makeup and poke holes in your face, you might actually get laid!

* "House" music

Don't even get me started on this. The other day, someone offered to make me a compilation of the "best house songs" they had. It's kind of like assembling the biggest piles of dog shit you can find in a park. Let's be clear about one thing. Anyone reading this who owns a computer and a music program can "write" house music. It is unmelodic, repetitive as all hell, and offers nothing but a constant drum beat, being looped until your head explodes. And you probably paid $30 to get into the club it's playing in. I was reading someone's myspace page a few months ago and under MUSIC, he wrote, "I don't listen to bands. Only DJs." He was promptly deleted. And killed. And fed to John Popper of Blues Traveler. Ignorant prick.

* Rappers who constantly tell us their name and bank account number

Come on, Snoop. We downloaded the song, it's playing on our iPods. Right under the song title is....YOUR NAME! Did you think we missed that? I'm convinced rappers have developed a complex from being called the wrong name during sex. My name ain't Carl! It's Eazy-E, bitch! And isn't music supposed to be occasionally relatable? Shouldn't you at some point in an artist's catalog be able to put yourself in the singer's shoes and experience what they're experiencing? Oh, and based on the fact that you're wearing a watch worth more than my house, I've already deduced that your "flow brought you dough" and you have "a crib, car, pools and jewels." And here I thought modesty was a virtue!

I used to enjoy rap music, until this happened

Honorable Mention:

Stevie Wonder performing with the Jonas Brothers (What next? The surviving Beatles' duet with Miley Cyrus?!)

That'll all the venom I have for now...

-jdp

jdeprospero@gmail.com

Jobs I Hope the Recession Eliminates

2009-06-22T07:55:00.000-07:00

I'm a firm believer that, even in the worst of times, there's a silver lining. In fact, you could think of any bad experience you've ever had in your life and I guarantee you there's a bright side there somewhere. Failed a math test in 3rd grade? Your parents no longer expect you to go to medical school. Got dumped by your girlfriend the week before Valentine's Day? You save money on a gift and you get to have guilt-free sex with that promiscuous co-worker you've been keeping at bay. Hey, sometimes there's double the silver lining!

So, considering that the current bad situation is the state of the economy, I've come up with a timely list of job titles that I hope this supposed recession wipes off the face of the earth- which would be, oh yes, a silver lining. Now, of course, I don't wish poverty on anyone. But there are just certain jobs I find to be unnecessary, ineffective, or just plain obnoxious. Let's get started.

The Apple Store "Genius"

Just when you thought techies couldn't get any more aloof, socially inept, and douchebaggy, Apple goes and throws the "genius" label on them. And then has people schedule appointments to meet with these nerds. It's no wonder, frankly, that they all eventually develop a heightened sense of self worth. These hipsters, who stand behind the "Genius Bar" with completely uninterested looks on their faces, would rather be Twittering than helping you with anything. And they always seem to give off the impression that you're interrupting their nerdy existence by asking them a question- that is, assuming you were able to secure a much sought after appointment. They've never actually helped me with any of my iPod problems. So fuck them and their lanyards.

The dude on the left was the second choice to play Harry Potter and now he does this. Can you sense the bitterness?

The Bathroom Attendant

I know a dude's gotta make money somehow. But this particular profession is the cause of too many awkward social moments to justify its existence. I would actually be more inclined to give money to a homeless person outside the bathroom than I would a guy pumping soap into my hand like I'm an invalid in the bathroom. At least the homeless dude has some dignity left. And I, for one, prefer to manage my soap and paper towel distribution myself. In fact, I'd be willing to surrender my money upfront, rather than digging clumsily into my pockets for a dollar, drunk, mid-piss while some dude in a tuxedo waits behind me staring creepily, amidst a collection of gum and cigarettes.

Just so you know, I am not above hand-feeding you peanuts while giving you a reach-around if it means a bigger tip.

The BJ's Receipt Hole Puncher

No kid ever grows up with dreams of one day scouring receipts at the exit of a nearby wholesale food store. And because it's such an undesirable job, people who take it could give less than a shit about whether you're stealing or not. Seriously, think about the last time you went into a BJs, or other store supporting this ridiculous practice. How long do they look at the receipt? Two seconds? Maybe? You could be handing them your CVS receipt from when you bought condoms and a Nestles Crunch, and they'd never know. Besides, what's stopping you from getting your own hole-puncher and doing the deed before you even get there? Get rid of this job and put this hole-punching fool on cashier for God's sake!

The ultimate security guard...

The Casual Restaurant Valet Parking Attendant

I think we're fat enough in this country, don't you? Well, apparently someone doesn't think so. Because the more places you go to eat, the less you'll actually have to walk to get to your table. I can see if you're a real classy joint in a big city, but otherwise, there's no need for this. Here's a rule: if where you're going has a kid's menu, you can park your own fucking car.

The epitome of fine dining...

The Movie Ticket Stub Ripper

Yeah, it's mean of me to say, because a lot of your grandfathers probably held this job at some point. But really, it's the same as the receipt hole puncher. First of all, the old codger checking your ticket can barely see as it is, so he's not what I'd call reliable security. It's a completely fruitless line of defense that just creates foot traffic. Instead of having these people rip tickets, you should have them stopping people from seeing movies like "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2." Then at least they'd be doing something worthwhile for the community.

Allow me to rip your ticket...or whatever piece of paper you hand me which could really be anything.

The Arena Entry Pat-Down Security Guard

I know what you're thinking. Joe, are you in favor of getting rid of all means of security? And the answer is no. I'm only getting rid of those that I find meaningless. In fact, I'm in favor of full body cavity searches for any event housing more than 5,000 people. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but it would certainly be safer than the lazy ass, barely touching you pat downs that the current crop of police academy drop-outs currently provide. Basically, unless you're storing an AK-47 assault rifle under your clothes, you can literally have any other kind of weapon concealed and they'd never know. So either really get in there and grope us or eliminate these guys and let fate work itself out. At least we'd be in our seats before encore!

So, like, can I go on break now?

I'm with the guy in the bright yellow shirt.

Thanks for reading. And if you agree, disagree, have more jobs you want to add to the list, want to tell me I'm an asshole, feel entirely free to add it below! And if you dig it, become a follower!

-jdp

jdeprospero@gmail.com

Troll 2: Twice the Vegetables, Half the Logic

2009-06-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

Welcome to what (I hope) will be a bright spot in your otherwise uneventful week. I’ve arrived, folks, so prepare yourselves for rants, completely unapologetic movie and music reviews, and even some interviews with some of the most warped, juvenile, and piss-worthy people I know personally. And more!

Now, I’d been searching for a good target to aim my virtual venom at for my first official blog. I wandered down dimly lit streets and dug deep into my dirty soul for inspiration. Nothing was coming to me. I was all out. I had just created a blog site and had nothing to actually blog about! I felt much akin to the dude who waits on a long line at a fast food place and when he finally reaches the register, he hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. I felt creatively impotent. But all that changed when my friend Doug Hoekstra came by holding the DVD for the movie Troll 2. And all was right with the world…

I must preface this by admitting that I have never even seen the first Troll film. I understand, though, that the sequel is (big shock) in no way related to the original. With that said, it would be safe to say that any high school, middle school or kindergarten class could have devised a scarier plot for a movie than this one. In Troll 2, A family of four (The Waits) swaps houses with another family to visit the unassuming, and completely attractionless, town of Nilbog which is swarming with undercover vegetarian goblins (And they fear meat. Oh, they fear meat.) while the boy’s dead grandfather’s ghost keeps appearing to give ominous hints about what lies ahead. But despite grandpa’s warnings from beyond, they continue filming this crappy movie.

Before we go any further, I absolutely have to bring something up about this film that is obvious from scene 1. The acting here is worse than any shit-fest small town stage play you’ve ever witnessed. I’ve seen a 6th grade production of Grease that had more talent. Each line is spoken with the believability of an awards show presenter reading off a teleprompter, and it’s fair to say that It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! elicited more fright than this movie’s best scene. It literally comes across like they took the first 20 or so people they found on the street, handed half of them latex masks and potato sacks and the other half they told, “Act as scared as a person running from vegetarian goblins would act.” And as for the costuming, I’ll let the visual speak for itself.

The cast of Troll 2, gathering their receipts to return their masks at Party City...

Oh, There's a PLOT , You Say?

No bad horror movie would be complete without gaping plotholes the size of the Grand Canyon, either. Let's run some of them down...

* Who plans a vacation to a city where there's literally nothing to do? I know things aren't supposed to go "as planned" in horror movies, but couldn't they have at least TRIED to establish a false sense of comfort before shitting the creative bed?

There's a reason this shot isn't zoomed out.

* Since the goblins seem to run the town of Nilbog (have you dared to spell it backwards yet? Go on, do it!), they also apparently control all the food. When Joshua, his parents, and older sister arrive in the vacation house, they are greeted outside by the very family whose house they'll be staying in- the Presents. The father seems standoffish and kind of an asshole. Yet, no one seems alarmed when they discover that a meal has been prepared for them and left on the dinner table! They even played dark, ominous tones when the family left! How can you trust someone accompanied by such tones to cook you dinner?! Well luckily, the ghost of Grandpa Seth appears just in time to give the 411 to Joshua that eating this food is a bad idea. He's also apparently a superhero, as he's able to freeze time for 30 seconds (which lasts way longer than this in the movie), giving Joshua a window to think of a way to stop the eating. It also gives you a chance to reconsider watching this drek. Anyway, Joshua sees no other option but to do the following...

You asked for it. You fucking got it.

* Grandpa Seth apparently KNOWS how to defeat the goblins the whole time, but it takes him the entire length of the movie to finally verbalize it? Oh, and he "leaves for good" more often than Brett Favre. Play or fold, Gramps.

* The teenage daughter, Holly, in the movie has a boyfriend, Elliot, who wants to come along on her vacation. She's cool with it, assuming he comes alone and not with his stereotypically horror-movie-horny friends. She even accuses him of being gay to punk him into it. So, what does he do? He fails to get to Holly's house in time for lift off and then he packs three of those friends into a camper and heads out to meet the Waits family. Then he acts surprised when Holly finds him and punches him in the face! Dude, have you ever dealt with an angry woman before?

* One of the boyfriend's nerdy pals follows a frantic woman into the nearby woods. He gets impaled in the chest by one of the goblins and they come upon an abandoned church-like building, where of course they seek refuge. Once inside, they find themselves face to face with a woman who looks not unlike a female vampire (we later find out she's named Creedence), who immediately offers them something to eat. Because why wouldn't she? So she comes out with two of the most suspicious-looking soup bowls I've ever seen anywhere. These things look like two mini witch cauldrons, with the dry ice spewing out and everything. You'd think this would set off an immediate red flag. So of course, the dumb girl drinks it, and then turns into a gelatinous green goo as her new man friend with the hole in his chest does a horrendous impression of someone who's surprised (and in pain). Then, the next time we see him he's been transformed into a potted plant, branches coming out of his face and everything. And there is no rhyme or reason as to how you become a plant as opposed to a puddle of goo, either. I'm totally fucking serious.

So Where's the Good Stuff?

These next tidbits aren't exactly plotholes, but moments that truly need to be experienced before you die...

* One of the horny dudes hanging out in the camper is beckoned outside by a playful-looking zombie-in-hiding who is playing synth-happy 80s music and provocatively holding...wait for it...a corn on the cob. So she saunters up to this guy and invites herself in. I knew it was too good to be true that the one moderately attractive female in the movie would get naked. I was right. And a recurring theme within this film seems to be healthier eating through vegetables. See below if you don't believe me.

Goblin law states that, during makeouts, there must be a corn on the cob separating the lips, and of course, stagehands must hurl popcorn.

* His family doesn't believe that Joshua is really seeing the ghost of his Grandpa Seth. That is, until idiot Grandpa screws up and appears in the daughter's room instead. Joshua gets pissy. "You went to the wrong room, Grandpa!" Can't say I blame the kid. Since when do ghosts get lost?

Sorry, my bad.

* The climactic scene in this movie really needs to be seen in order to believe it. The Waits family is, you guessed it, cornered by the goblins. Just when you were asking yourself how this family could possibly escape a bunch of second-rate monsters who, quite frankly, should be ashamed of themselves for not killing this family sooner, Grandma Seth's old ass makes an appearance to suggest they touch the "Stone Henge Magic Stone" (I can't make this up) and hands Joshua a bag that he should "only open when absolutely necessary." So the goblins (who put up less of a fight than paid actors in a haunted house), have Josh cornered when, the little crafty bastard decides to reach into the bag that Grandpa Seth left for him. He is either confused or thrilled to see what's inside. "Double decker...bologna sandwich!" Creedence the goblin queen squeals, "No! The cholesterol!" Too late, Toots. Joshua starts chowing down and then it's curtains for you and your underlings. He even couples the bologna sandwich with the dreaded touching of the Stone Henge Magic Stone! His family then joins him and no goblin can dare compete with such weaponry.

Joshua + Lunch Meat + Rock Touching = Goblin Death

I'll end here, as I've already put twice as much thought into this review as they put into the movie. Oh, and get ready for a spoiler. The movie ends with Diane Waits, the mom, being eaten while she's in the shower and taken out into the living room where Joshua finds them munching on her. Both the father and daughter are nowhere to be found, probably because the director knew the kid was the best actor of the bunch and the only one who wouldn't make this scene completely laughable. Unfortunately for them, I still laughed.

Needless to say, I highly recommend this film. Much like I would recommend watching a blindfolded man with meat in his pants walk into a room of starving pitbulls.

Stay tuned, I've only just gotten started!

-jdp
jdeprospero@gmail.com