Yes, I love a fat kids camp movie that comes from the creator of the Mighty Ducks. And I am not being droll–I've seen this movie at least three times. I know that doesn't necessarily mean it's good (I've inexplicably seen Lady Bugs twice) but, unlike Lady Bugs, which was a waste of wasted men (sorry for the memories of Rodney Dangerfield and Jonathan Brandis, you poor kid), I promise that this is actually a really good movie.

True, there are some elements that might seem to contradict such a statement: I remember a scene in which Ben Stiller gets his face farted on; in fact Ben Stiller's turning it up to eleven the whole time might be a bit much… Oh, and the tag line (They never met a hot dog they didn't like … until now) makes absolutely no sense–there's no hot dog in the movie that the fat kids decide not to like. So if you're watching the movie, waiting patiently for the fat kids to come across the hot dog they don't like, you can stop waiting.

But still, there's so much to recommend: Paul Feig (creator of Freaks and Geeks) is one of the nice councilors, Stiller's performance, as over the top as it may be, really works–I honestly think this is his finest work to date. There's also a really touching scene by the abandoned Go Kart track and a thrilling Apache Relay race versus the rich kids camp (I'm not going to tell you who wins).

But I think the real reason this film is way better than it deserves to be is Judd Apatow's script (he wrote and directed The 40 Year Old Virgin, produced The Cable Guy and Anchorman, and wrote and directed The Larry Sanders show and Freaks and Geeks). And if my review hasn't convinced you, read this hilariously serious and sincere analysis.

Perhaps the most embarrassing aspect of this pick is that I had to debate between TWO songs on the Middle of Nowhere album. (The other being I Will Come to You–and yes, I can sing every word to both). At the time this came out I was head over heels in a whirlwind romance with someone who was a little less head over heels for me. I know now that the lyrics of three prepubescent church boys, who'd yet to know the touch of a woman, may seem like an unlikely place to find solace but hey, “We all get a little bit weird sometimes”.

Also at the time, my friend and I were totally immersed in the world of ironic pop and kitschy current fads (see this week's album pick to further confirm this). But a funny thing happened on the was to the mmm bop: I actually have a genuine fondness for these songs. I even listen to them at work with my headphones on, although (and this is no joke) if I have to get up I will change the song so that if anyone glances at my screen they won't see that I'm listening to Hanson. I just haven't worked there very long and it's just too much, too soon to have to explain.

Maybe I shouldn't be so embarrassed though. After all, other cool people like them: Gus Van Sant even directed the video for this very song. Of course, that made everyone wonder if he was a pedophile so maybe that's not the best example.

Why am I embarrassed? “Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth!!?” I have a crush on Chris Tucker. The same Chris Tucker who was the king of the hill, making us (well, maybe not you maybe–but someone) laugh in Rush Hour one day, then the next day, had fallen off the face of the earth.

Honestly, aside from this promotional Rush Hour photo (in which his smile is no less than dazzling, you have to admit) the only photo readily available on-line is this mug shot from his arrest for driving 109 mph. He claims he was late for church and (note the respectable tie and flaming orange sweater) I for one believe him.

His website looks like a men's warehouse ad, except it's still “under construction” while the Men's Warehouse site is actually functional.
Honestly, did he die or do something terrible? Oh god, and I almost forgot about his turn in the Fifth Element! And this is the man that I have an inexplicable crush on. Crush Hour 2.

I am not embarrassed to like Kirstie because she's fat. And I think she looked great with no clothes on. But I should be embarrassed because of things like Veronica's Closet, The Church of Scientology, her lunatic Pier One ads, “Profoundly Normal”, and the bad Cheers years .

I should be embarrassed because she actually has terrible style, I even referred to things I didn't like back when I worked for Chicos as looking “like some thing Kirstie Alley would wear”. So how can this woman that wears this and this and starred in so much crap make my list as a style icon?

I just plain really, really like this woman. I like her rusty hinge voice. I like her dreamboat eyes. I like that when she won some award she thanked her husband's huge penis. And I like that her ads for Fat Actress feature he smothering some man with her purple satin enveloped behind.

My special way of revolting the opposite sex has always been through eating habits. I still remember being twelve years old in the club house at the local country club smearing mayonnaise and ketchup on a hamburger bun with my finger. My boy friends were disturbed. Ahh memories…

But some things never change. Today I pop a sugar cube in my mouth for dessert and Jim looks at me like I just swallowed a mayonegg. It's a look fairly similar to the one he gives me when I follow it up with a drink of pickle juice straight out of the jar.

Watching me try to do this hip hop exercise routine is so mortifying, I even thought of videoing it as part of a comedy routine. I can't remember the exact name of the DVD I own because it's (thankfully) still boxed away right now, but I do know that the lady is a choreographer for Madonna and that she repeatedly shouts out some phrase like “Show me your flair!” or “Add your pizzazz!” or “Give it your own styilio!”

See, not only do you have to attempt the sexy club dance routine, but this mad woman wants you to make it your own by adding your own personal hip hop elan. I have not seen what my interpretation of this unfair and unexpected demand looks like, but since I'm so far from being naturally hip hoppy I can only imagine it looks like crippled pain or deflated sorrow. I haven't done this since it left me feeling painfully shy and embarrassed in front of my own cats

I guess there are multiple reasons for this pick to seem like a joke. We drove how long to get suckered in to paying how much for a plastic dinosaur exhibit in a carpeted strip mall? [Answers at end of post].

The trip started with the biggest slag tag I've ever seen stamped on a teenage girl that took our money and ended in the gift shop that didn't even offer any mugs for my collection. In between is all the stuff that makes this tourist trap worth recommending… kind of… maybe.

We were the only people there without kids and were viewed by the MILFs as either perverts (for taking photos which inevitably featured somebody's kid in the background) or retarded because I partook in the free coloring station.

The sculptures themselves are pretty cool, even if the amount is slightly underwhelming and the poor kid giving a tour to a birthday party full of distracted five year olds (one of which asked if I was his mommy) was priceless: “Guys! guys! guys! Just listen–I have one more thing to tell you about T.Rex. Guys… ”

There's also an awkward looking cave man scene with a huge bear skeleton and a woolly mammoth mural and some human skulls, which seemed to keep the young dads happy. The whole odd experience will cost you $12 per head and it takes about an hour and a half to get there–I just want you to know what you're getting into because I sure didn't.

Jim and I decided that of all the shows we watch, the one that we'd be most embarrassed to have on if someone super cool (like Limp Bizkit or Joan Didion) dropped by is this goofy documentary show with segments about amazing subject like the crazy lady that loves M&Ms. “They all have their own personalities, red is slutty,” she says (or something like that–I'm paraphrasing) in her M&M ball cap stuck in her M&M bean bag chair; the best LITTLE [insert something like pretzel stick or mini marshmallow] that's actually… [wait for it]… BIG! on taste; or the barrage of cookie factory footage. You want to know how these things get made? In factories on machines, just like they were in Mr. Rogers's day.

But then I got to thinking about all the other Marc Summers projects that we also watched all the time. Sure, I was a kid when Double Dare aired, and when you're a kid, what's the harm in watching a family dive through fake vomit or throw nerf shit into each others wacky helmets? But I was not a kid when we stayed up late at night watching What Would You Do? A sad rip off of Double Dare that I'm sure would have eventually put Summers's head in the oven if Food Network hadn't come a calling.

I swear we weren't stoned when we watched it but we may as well been. The show was shot on the Universal Studios lot in Orlando and the audience were paying park visitors who had to perform 'challenges' like drinking milk really fast with phrases like 'Eat a Twinkie with Gravy' taped to their foreheads and finally had to go through an obstacle course (that would never have made the grade on Double Dare) fashioned entirely out of pies. There was the Pie Pod, the Pie Slide, the Pie Pendulum, Pie Roulette, Pie Wash, Pie Coaster, and Pie in the Sky. All are intensely detailed on Wikipedia by someone who must be a huge fan AND a huge weirdo.

Please watch all of these clips and laugh like we are including “mom sent to the pie pod“,”Teenage boy goes down the pie slide“, and “Boy puts foot in worms“

I just learned that Marc has OCD which must have made all that pie mess really difficult for him. He has a book about the affliction, but I draw the line at his literary work.

There is actually nothing embarrassing about this recipe except that I failed to capture it's tastiness in this terrible photo. You'll have to take my word for it that the sauce (in which I substituted nori for shiso) is to die for.