Fergie’s throbbing, monotonous, hands-across-the-globe club track, “L.A. Love.” Only Pitbull is allowed to shout out international cities and call it a single, Fergie.
Peter Pan Live! “Is Brian Williams’ daughter the next Mary Martin?! Will that girl from Girls be convincing as a young singing boy?!” NBC yells into the cold, dark network TV abyss.
The semi-annual onslaught of Kay Jewelers commercials. The most special gift for that special woman in your life is some “special” diamond-esque necklace bought from the adult version of a Claire’s accessory shop on Black Friday.
The latest bloated, unnecessary sequel in the burlap-sheathed heroes genre, The Hobbit: The Battle Of The Five Armies. How is it possible that every Hobbit movie looks exactly the same, yet has an annoyingly distinctive title? You’ve seen one Smaug, you’ve seen them all.
CBS’ annual semi-nude walking Rose Bowl parade, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. The bad news: Glitter-covered raver wear and hollowed-out piñatas are the new lingerie. The good news: Victoria’s Secret finally realizes there’s nothing sexy about selling bras in a mall next to a Wetzel’s Pretzels.
