I was fairly fortunate this year and didn't end up seeing a whole lot of bad movies. Sure, Sunshine was terrible and baffling, I really don't even want to talk about Mother of Tears, Factory Girl was viewed almost entirely in fast forward and The Happening still has a very long wait on Netflix, so I have nothing yet to report on that front yet, but only two films really deserve to be on this list and I struggled mightily to determine which one would win the dubious title of Worst Movie of the Year.

On one hand there's Richard Kelly's follow-up to the surprisingly fresh instant indie classic Donnie Darko. It was a major disappointment, achingly self-indulgent and overblown. Thinking his work to be so important and worth you time Kelly explained, “Southland Tales was initially planned to be a nine-part 'interactive experience', with the first six parts published in six 100-page graphic novels that would be released in a six-month period up to the film's release.”

It's a mess and a it's shame and it's a total waste of an excellent cast: Buffy, Stiffler, The Rock, Timberlake, and the little old lady from Poltergeist?! Well done, Kelly! But then again, you also indulged Kevin Smith with a long and excruciating cameo. At the same time, there are moments when you really want to give it a fair shake, when you end up making excuses and thinking to yourself, “You know, if this were a completely different movie?quot;

But what's the greater evil, a painful, ego driven journey that aims too high, fails horribly and makes no sense OR a painful, ego driven journey (though not as long) with two booger jokes within the first fifteen minutes?

Perhaps the inclusion of The Love Guru is a bit unfair. Of course it's terrible, the only reason we watched it was to research Jim's ingenious Halloweeen costume. And while we had no intention of actually enjoying it, we were both truly stunned by how far it sank below even our lowest expectations. To put it lightly, it filled me with loathing. Ugh, Depends Adult Undergarment jokes? Really Myers, you sir are no David Foster Wallace! Oh, and why not throw in several exhaustingly boring hockey scenes inbetween piss and dick jokes? In case you were unaware, this movie is about the Toronto Maple Leafs winning the Stanley Cup. Thanks, Mike!

Myers says he's been wanting to do “this kind of work” since he was eight, a statement that makes a lot of sense since “this work” could only be appropriate and entertaining to a very unsophisticated eight year old. Urkle showed more wit. In another interview Myers immodestly claims he's 'Trojan horse-ing the wisdom of the east' – most evident, in my opinion, in the scene where Mini Me Verne Troyer declares, “If I sit here any longer I'll pop my dick bag”, and the scene where a hockey player gets his mojo back and regains his self respect by watching two elephants fuck on the ice.

To call this movie a piece of shit, something the Love Guru himself refers to (in a scene where he wonders aloud if he's crapped his pants) as “monkey monsters”, is an understatement. There are creepy scenes where the full grown head of Mike Meyers is super-imposed on the body of a child; a shot where he literally gets his head stuffed up his ass; and while there's no Kevin Smith cameo (small graces), Fergie's there if you want her – and I know you don't.

The biggest loser in all this, aside from audiences (who awarded Southland Tales with a measly $275,380 at domestic box offices and only another $81,028 world-wide; The Love Guru officially took home certified “bomb” status) is Justin Timberlake, who stars in both. Maybe next time he's a dick to a fan of his music that fan can bring these performances up. But these two films don't just share Timberlake, they both received some really harsh and hilarious words from critics:

Southland Tales:
“I hope Kelly's career survives Southland Tales, unless, that is, he plans to make more movies like this.”;
“When it's not being obstinately stupid, Southland Tales is just difficult to watch.”;
“No amount of reworking could salvage what was a misbegotten and unfunny idea to begin with.”;
“One of the most confusing, ridiculous, pretentious and disastrous cinematic train wrecks I've ever seen.”;
“The actors barely comprehend their lines. The pop-culture references are lame. Nearly every moment falls flat. And it's boring.”

The Love Guru:
“Dismal, laugh-free comedy that's actually painful to sit through“;
“The puerile levels to which it sinks make even Goldmember, the crudest of the Austin Powers movies, look like Brief Encounter.”;
“When not finding new names for willies, Myers – who also wrote the script – devotes the rest of the time to pitiful one-liners revolving around farting, snot and diarrhoea.”;
“No child under 12 should have to undergo it. The same, mind you, goes for anyone over 12.”;
“A film so numbingly unamusing that you seriously question whether you were mistaken to have ever found Myers funny.”;
“The Love Guru is insulting to anyone with a healthy sense of humor and the simple desire to laugh.”
Even porn girls don't like it.

Nothing can hammer home your dislike of a particular song more than hearing it on a daily basis can. I have never been a fan of Bow Wow Wow's I Want Candy (though you know I could never say a bad thing about Annabella Lwin, that little stylish vixen), and somewhere in my office that song gets played every day – and even though it's just barely audible, it seeps slowly into my brain like a horrible brain disease. But while doing some research I discovered something far more horrific thing than an over-played annoyance.

This song was covered by Floridian Disney child star nightmare Aaron Carter, also known as Lizzy McGuire's sloppy seconds. It sounds like bubble gum hell – and this is from a girl who likes Hanson.

At this point, it's more or less common knowledge that John Mayer is the epicenter of the Hollywood herpes epidemic (though this chart, chronicling the spread of Derek Jeter's infection, puts the short stop on top). No smoke without fire, right? I guess my biggest complaint is that I just don't feel like I should have to know so much about him, or see his face all the time.

Not that there's anything terribly wrong with his face (I even know a really great guy who, from certain angles, looks the tiniest bit like him – but I wasn't allowed to tell him for a really long time because it seems like such an insult to be likened to Mayer in any way), but all he's used it for is spewing lousy songs and becoming a famous man slut who has not only slept with Jessica Simpson, but was mature and classy enough to bitch about her on his (does this sound egocentric: “You may have my image, but you cannot take my sound.”) blog after they broke up:

“Dear Ex Lover,” he wrote. “Perhaps you didn't understand the last time I told you to stop contacting me, so I'll do my best to spell it out for you. I do not wish to have you in my life anymore. I don't know how much more clear I can be about it. It would serve you best to move on with your life and find someone who can put up with you, because I'm done trying. I hope this is enough closure for you. Goodbye.”

I also think we'd have a hard time getting along because his tastes are terrible: he brazenly asserts that Guitar Hero was…

“…Devised to bring the guitar-playing experience to the masses without them having to put anything into it. And having done both, there's nothing like really playing guitar. I mean, what would you rather drive, a Ferrari or one of those amusement-park cars on a track?”

And yet he cried after reading The Bucket List script?! Oh, and he has Stevie Ray Vaughn's initials tattooed on his arm! You are no friend of mine, sir.

About all he has going for him in my book is a brief appearance on Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job (he reportedly counts stand up comedy among his hobbies, probably in an attempt to lure some of Zach Galifianakis's tale his way).

I'm just plain sick of the man and I'm bored to tears having to hear all about his boning. It's bad enough having to see boring old Aniston repeatedly appearing on the cover of Vogue, but the cover of Star too?

Surely we've all become educated and enlightened enough to appreciate the struggles women have gone through to obtain equal rights in this country. It's a lesson retaught weekly on today's most engaging TV show, Mad Men, which delves heavily into our recent past when opportunities for women were limited and social morays were unsettling at best. Not to mention the suffrage movement and the fight ladies like Lucretia Mott and Susan B. Anthony waged to give women the right to vote. Surely all that history and the lessons we've learned from it can't be completely lost on today's youth?

Here's what celebrity skank Brooke Hogan had to say on the subject:

“You know what? I am actually not that much into voting. I think it's kinda crazy that a woman is running, because I think that women deal with a lot of emotions and menopause and PMS and stuff. Like, I'm so moody all the time, I know I couldn't be able to run a country, ?ause I'd be crying one day and yelling at people the next day, ya know?”

Pearls of wisdom from a media whore who wears acid wash denim chaps. I hope I live to see a day when we all tire of the idiot spawn of the rich and famous transforming into minor celebrities simply because they have no shame and will allow cameras the film them anywhere.

Unexpected taste bud unpleasantness is always unfortunate. Whether you're expecting water and get a mouth full of vodka, or take a bite of wasabi when you think you're getting mint, these things happen; it's part of life. But what's unfair is when it happens purposely to an unsuspecting child at the hands of an adult.

I can still remember the day when some health conscious mom at a birthday party tried to pass off carob as chocolate. Lady, wherever you are, you are one cruel piece of work. Carob is not chocolate and I to this day refuse to eat it ever again after that initial deception and betrayal.

Plus, it's not even better for you – it's actually higher in saturated fats. Take that!

Swarming crowds, cheap goods, fried everything, bad music: street fairs in New York, which seem to spring up constantly and often for no good reason, are becoming a pet peeve of mine. Now some fairs are fun, unique ones like Bastille Day or the BBQ Block Party come to mind, but most are bland and simply annoying.

It ends up I am not the only one harboring ill feelings, local blogger Gowanus Lounge sited a think tank study a couple years back that concludes:

“The fairs are 'bland and generic' events that 'do not reflect what's unique about New York City.' It finds that fairs are 'dominated by a handful of the same vendors selling items like tube socks, knockoff purses and gyros, and that a surprisingly high percentage of vendors are based outside the city.' The report says the city should make changes in street fairs that would include more city-based entrepreneurs and artists.”

Photo from flickr

When Jim and I had us a trip to LA earlier this year, I was California dreaming about sunshine and good grooves and the Venice Beach Boardwalk was our first stop. There was no sunshine and no good grooves, instead there were lots of junkies and cheap tee shirts. I had visions of the birth of the Doors, healthy skateboarders and those neat hippy porches with surf boards and wind chimes that mesmerized me as a kid when we would visit. The beach and its kooky residents just seemed like such a different lifestlye, you know, one that I found enormously appealing when I was young and could picture myself enjoying – despite the fact that then (and now) I was not particularly fond of being in the water and would never get on a surf board to save my life.

On our more recent visit, a grey sky didn't help and it was definitely one of those situations where the glorfied and possibly confused expectations we held could not match the reality – probably how Californians feel coming here expecting quaint lines for Magnolia cupcakes, sitings of Woody Allen, and glamorous nightlife but end up only seeing Moby and experience subway rides that smells like feces or ketchup (gross right? It happened to me this morning and I can't get over it. Ketchup that smells like ketchup is one thing,?and a fine thing, but a subway that smells like ketchup creeps me out).

Highlights of our visit were: a man on stilts covered in hand made moss and scrouning for tips; a corner where you could find everything you want – kettle korn, shaved ice, sunglasses, a man peeing himself in a stoupor, and probably tetnous; this brilliant tee shirt, “The Happy Fisherman” where a fisherman is receiving a blow job from a fish; and last, but not least, this fall out aftermath of a shop that had the balls to call itself Kids Happy Land.

Oh how far stars fall when we find out they're huge assholes. Remember when Kevin Spacey, so not the smug uptight guy who would later star in K Pax in an attempt to grab another award, was just a scrappy actor out of nowhere who thanked his mom with earnest glee? Or Paul Giamatti when he was a likable schlep, not a pompous John Adams or everyman Cleveland Meeks (though to be honest, he still seems like an okay guy who's just picking roles in an attempt to make me hate him.)

The worst fallen idol has got to be Jeremy Piven. Once the refreshing, smirking grown kid in Grosse Point Blank and The Larry Sanders Show, he gained great reknown as Ari Gold on the (pretty unbearable) Entourage. Everyone thought he was doing such an amazing job playing a jerk until we all realized it was maybe a bit more real life and a little less acting when he and a rowdy, terrible group of 12 friends ate dinner out at Nobu and only tipped with a DVD of Entourage, getting himself banned from the restaurant.

He dates top models, or correction! He dates the runner ups to Americas next Top Model, he gets in slap fights with Stephen Dorff because he cut in the bathroom line (man, that is the Blood God your messing with!), so why wouldn't we want to be schooled by the self proclaimed “pretty girl” in Buddhist teachings and take A Journey of a Lifetime with him for several hours? Why to hear him complain about how other Hollywood types are shallow because they don't go to India, it could also according to this thread makes a great “drinking game with the amount of times he said “nameste” to passersby – two drinks if he hits on someone inappropriately.”

This guy really out did himself with such a self indulgent joke of a show. I mean, I also caught episodes of Outsiders Inn; the sad, sad reboot of At the Movies (now for idiots! Thanks Josh and Josh); and the decline of HBO – True Blood anyone or how about Tell Me You Love Me?! But Piven's shitty TV show takes the cake.

I have to admit, I did you all a disservice by not watching all of this program – but just take a look at this two minute intro and I think you'll forgive me. At this point, though, I wish I had stuck with it a little longer so I could detail the antics for you, and as of right now the program is not airing on its original network, Discovery HD, anytime soon. But seriously, if it does air again, I'm up for that drinking game – if we can in fact actually keep it on for more than half an hour.

No journey has been this dislikable since his co-star Adrian Grenier made a documentary himself (in which he still managed to be on camera the whole time) about the journey to find his father – I wonder how many twenty year old girls fell into his bed for that sob story.

My friend Mike amazes me often with two qualities I do not possess: patience and being good with his hands. He always has something time consuming and wonderful going on. Home made peppermint patties from scratch, hand made molded candies, pretzels straight from his oven, a new tasty ice cream every few months, as his friends, we reap the benefits of his craftiness – until recently.

For weeks he bought odd and neat sounding herbs and spices, including sarsaparilla and sassafras and even found some great bottles to make home brewed root beer. Sounded lovely and we all eagerly awaited the first batch. Then, we heard nothing for a bit, but one look on Mike's face when we asked how it turned out said it all.

I guess using a 200 year old recipe can result in unexpected things, in this case a bizarre medicinal beer like froth. Not to be totally dissuaded though, he's going to try again with a more modern and familiar recipe.