In A&E's never ending quest to subject us to some of the worst human beings on the planet (ie Hoarders, Intervention), I happened to stumble upon another jester of really bad reality TV - Billy the Exterminator, who has his own show, aptly titled Billy the Exterminator. Spun off of a segment of Dirty Jobs, Billy and his trash bucket family of pest killers dress like Judas Priest roadies and kill vermin all over Lousiana. Part Tommy Lee, part John Goodman from Acrachnophobia, Billy is a high energy, leather clad doofus that looks better suited to open for White Snake than catching white snakes. Make no mistake, Billy emits one the biggest douche-chills on the planet, but goddamn if I don't get fired up when him and his team spray a nest of killer wasps or wrestle a snake in some lady's tulip garden. Every episode of Billy and his team (consisting of his retard brother Ricky, his gross wife Mary and their "sassy" receptionist/Mom Dunnie) has them ockin and rollin all over the Bayou answering distress calls from families who have squirrels in their attics, bees' nests in their garages, and rodents in their walls. Billy is a hell of an exterminator but he kicks it up to 11 when he's killing pests - he's constantly shouting "Dude!" and "Bro!" when exterminating, throwing up a few fist pumps as the pests of our world choke and die on his kick ass! poisons. Even though I hate this guy with a passion, I'll be watching. ROCK ON BRAH!
I hate myself.
-Reece
The Harvard Hasty Pudding award. Past esteemed winners include Sir Anthony Hopkins, Steven Spielberg, and Harrison Ford. And now, this year, the venerable honor from our country's oldest instutition goes to....Sexy Back? As Chris Griffin might say.. A-WHAAAAAAAAAAT? Justin Timberlake is set to receive this year's Harvard Hasty Pudding Man of The Year award for his extraordinary contributions in the fields of experimental medicine, brokering the peace process in the Middle East, and being the first man to walk on the surface of Mars. Oh wait, he didn't do any of that. When I first heard that Timberlake was going to win this award and bringing his white gheri curls and squeaky voice to Massachusetts this week, my nature reaction was to organize some kind of nuclear strike to wipe Cambridge off the map. After all, year after year some de-facto terrorist group obtains a nuke on 24 and Jack Bauer has to stop them. So really how hard can it be? But in my quest to obtain high grade plutonuim and weapon grade uranium, my Internet searches led me to one horrifying conclusion: Justin Timberlake really isn't that bad of a guy.
Why do I watch this show? Oh wait, I know. Tits and asses. Yup, I am that shallow and I am that easily seduced by boobs and butts. So sue me. But to be fair, as much I didn't want to be sucked in by Secret Girlfriend - Comedy Central's latest show featuring an unique concept where the viewer is actually the star of the show - I cannot stop watching it. Sure the tits and asses and insanely hot chicks in every episdoe don't hurt, but to be honest (deep breath), it's actually kind of funny. I mean, actually like laugh out loud, uproariously funny. I have a few belly laughs every episode, which actually is 2 mini episodes divided into 15 minute halves. I love when shows do that - it feels like you are getting more bang for your buck. Comedy Central has been looking for a supplemental show for South Park for years now (Chocolate News, anyone?) and I think they finally found one. Even if I'm embarrassed to watch it and never want to admit I dig it. Damn you Secret Girlfriend!
-Reece
The season premiere of A&E's Hoarders was on last night and whew hew doogy, if there is one show that makes me physically angry at people yet unable to turn off the TV, it's these sons of bitches. I can't get enough of them Hoarders. These people cram, stuff, and literally suffocate themselves in their homes surrounded by their useless shit, getting their homes so damaged to the point of condemnation, but yet fail to see there's any problem. Last night's episode was particularly sickening/awesome. We met Ceci, who hoarded so much garbage and trash in her home, the bathroom became too clogged to physically reach. Her solution? Grab a broom and dust pan? Of course not! She got herself adult diapers and just crapped the day away for the last two years, throwing her dirty diapers in a nice, steamed pile in the bathroom. She was literally drowning in crap by the time the Hoarders crew came in to rescue her and clean up the house. And second segment featured Gail, who maintained a goat farm, and thanks to her extreme OCD, also had a homemade dead-rat farm, a empty plastic bottle farm, a pile of 20 year old cardboard boxes farm, and a complete loss of dignity farm. What infuriates me about Hoarders is these assholes crack snide little jokes and nervous laughter while the Hoarders clean-up crew tear up their house and find decades old garbage and knick-knacks that should have been tossed years ago. And these speople get absolutely wrecked with emotion when they find a paper clip or a egg carton under 15 years of garbage in their bedroom. Last night Gail almost had a mental breakdown because she found a disgusting, yellow stained teddy bear from her childhood under eight tons of trash. Meanwhile her family is ready to disown her and her house is about two violations away from being bulldozed. But what sends her over the edge? A teddy bear. I know what you're thinking - no, it wasn't even a Teddy Ruxpin. Maybe you squirt some tears for a Ruxpin. But anything else - you are mentally disturbed.
I know it sounds like I have a murderous vendetta against Hoarders, and I kinda do, but I honestly love this shit. Any show where people spend an episode trying to solve someone's problems when it could be fixed in forty five minutes with a Hoover and a couple Hefty bags has me sold every time. And I am still hoping out hope that one of these days, Hoarders will find a dead body in one of these people's gigiantic trash piles. We've seen dead cats and mice in people's kitchens and bedrooms - I want a corpse. I want a small curious nephew people forgot about or an elderly neighbor that wandered in back in 1986 whose skeleton is found under 18 Little Ceasars pizza boxes. Sooner or later it's gonna happen. And I'll be there loving and hating every minute of it.
-Reece
Ah, wasabi. The Asian Green Death. I never learn my lesson with you, oh sweet fiery nectar of the oriental world. I tell myself, Ok, this time, tone it down on the wasabi. I tell myself, you don't need so much, don't over-do, you killed all the feeling in your mouth for 3 days last time. Just control yourself, Reece. Do I listen? Of course not. Every sushi meal with me ends like the time I lost my virginity - all teary eyed, sweaty and hyper-ventilating while my girlfriend looks on disappointed and asking for the check. But seriously, I am full on retarded when it comes to wasabi with my sushi. I'm like a little kid that doesn't know any better. I slab it on my spicy tuna and California rolls, never remembering that my insides are not built with liquid metal and I do not have the stomach of Joey Chestnut. I dip my sushi in it, mash it around, mix it up with the ginger and soy, and then wait for my mouth to explode like a nuclear holocaust. Seriously, forget Robitussin and Sudafed, you want your sinuses unblocked? Get yourself some yellowtail & avocado with extra wasabi and you won't have trouble breathing out of your nose for weeks. Wasabi clears you right up. It also damages vital organs, reduced your respiratory system to a near catatonic state, and flushes your eyes so watery and red that you'll swear you just smoked Mr. Nice Guy himself. But Jackie Chan is it good. I wouldn't have my sushi any other way.
-Reece
Saw Paranormal Activity over the weekend, and I got to say, as much as I expected it to be a low-grade, cheeseball horror film with poor acting and Fear.net style effects, it actually scared the balls off me. My balls are actually still crouching under the seat at the Showcase Cinemas in Lowell, waiting for the lights to come on and the theater usher to say it's all right to come out. Lefty is the more easily startled teste but both were pretty frightened by the entire experience and need to be weaned back into scrotal activity with Disney movies and light internet porn.
 Spit heading toward a microphone or a money shot from a smurf? I guess it's all a matter of perspective During a recent trip back home I found myself doing something I rarely do in the 50th state - driving. I had almost forgot about how beautiful it looks when the leaves change colors and seeing that for the first time in a few years was a really cool experience. It made me feel like you really can always come home again, and that just like the trees there will always be change, but there will also always be certain things you can count on being there for you. Right alongside the familiar sights were the familiar sounds. Not that of leaves blowing in the wind, but of unemployed, alcoholic windbags screaming their nonsense over the airwaves of AM 850 WEEI. Instead of enjoying an introspective moment, I was treated to Bill from Waltham telling us all how he would bat David Ortiz leadoff to "throw the other team off" , and Jerry from Braintree wondering why Danny Ainge doesn't just do what he would do and trade Brian Scalabrine, Vin Baker's liver, and 3 magic beans to Orlando for Dwight Howard? But who is the moron here? Bill? Jerry? The hosts? Or is it me because I can't bring myself to shut this bullshit off...
 'No Mr Ziering you really can't be on the new show, you're 47..' Ok I know I am gonna catch tremendous flak for this one, but this website is all about openess and honesty. In fact, I come you a broken shell of a man, a desperate fool at the end of his pitiful rope, a man crying out for help much like an addict or a sexual abuse victim, someone that just needs help so badly you can hear his cries from miles away. Yes, I can't stop watching the new 90210.
Or maybe that was Michael Jackson. Upon hearing about the death of Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy at age 77, Mindwafers first instinct was to post a standard obituary of the man who served the state for over 40 years. After all, we're Boston guys, he's a Boston guy. But we reconsidered our original plan. The common theme at this site is that we're haters, whether it be music, movies or any other instance of pop culture that pisses us off.
So why should big Teddy be any exception?
No one enjoys a great bad movie like this guy. I own the Stallone classic Cobra on laser disc. I have an entire collection of crappy Jackie Chan movies that aren't even properly dubbed in English. If a movie's world premiere was on Sci-Fi channel, Cinemax, or features Eric Roberts, I probably have it on VHS in my closest. Basically if it sucks and makes me laugh unintentional, I gotta have it. And the day I sat through, and literally peed my pants with laughter, Steven Seagal's tour de force "Hard To Kill", was like the heavens opened up and God Himself smiled upon me and told me I was His chosen child.
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