Review #6 - Brita Wave Pitcher

Oh hey! I didn't see you there. Can I get you something to drink? Water from my new Brita Wave Pitcher, maybe?

So I figured I'd review my new water pitcher. I've been using this water pitcher for a few weeks now, and I have gathered my thoughts on the matter. Is it good? Is it better than the last one? Does the lid stay on? Stick around to find out, you beautiful person, you.

This was bought to give Brita another chance to impress me, as I am a merciful internet blogger. I'll start by describing the aesthetics, since, as we all know, looks are what really matter in life. I purchased the lime green variation, as opposed to the Walter white, depression grey or daddy issue pink. The color hardly matters, as the pitcher is less colored than a Nickelback concert. There is a small splash of color on the inside of the handle, but that's all she wrote. The rest is either grey, white, or clear. Like the last pitcher, the main body of the pitcher is transparent, allowing it to function as a makeshift fish bowl. The handle is ergonomic and fits nicely in the hand, allowing one to keep a firm grip while pouring one out for the homies.

Behind the pitcher, you can see a Dasani bottle.

I buy these from the vending machine and use them

to fill the pitcher.

To be quite honest, I don't even remember what the lid of the Space Saver Pitcher looked like, so my review of the new lid's functionality is a fresh look. For starters, the lid keeps a firm grip on the pitcher like a helicopter parent on keeps a grip on their child. (On the real, though. At the start of my freshman year I met a cute girl and added her on Facebook. Within minutes, I received a friend request from her father. Who does that? I noped right on out of there.) I have yet to have a demonic experience with this lid, which is good. The opening on the top is very large, allowing you to pour more water in it at once than the entire state of California possesses. The cover for the opening flips up with a press on a nifty little lever embedded in the handle.

Can anybody tell me what this braille says?

The engineers from my last pitcher must have been fired, because this thing is actually a great design. The entire water-pouring process goes swimmingly from beginning to end. It's great, and can hold up to large amounts of water being poured out, like during a party, for example. I love having all my friends come over now, because I'm not afraid that they'll ask for water any longer. Now I can pour them all water and have some laughs with the pals! Hahaha! They're the best. I love them! So many good times! I love having buddies! Please come be my friend I'm so lonely.

My only gripe with the water pitcher is that the little indicator light (telling you the filter needs to be changed) on the top of the lid  went out after like two days and now I just have to accept that I might have slightly higher levels of copper, mercury, and cadmium in my water than before. Oh well. A little mercury never killed anyone. Overall, I actually give this thing a solid 8/10. It has a job, and it performs it well. Very dependable. It's the only friend I need.

TL;DR... Wait, he liked something for once? 8/10

Review #5 - Chappie - or - Die Antwoord: THE MOVIE

For those who are fortunate enough to have not heard of the group Die Antwoord, they are a South African music group thingy who make rap-rave type music. In my opinion, it sounds like a talented DJ adding a backing music track to a domestic violence incident in a trailer park. Regardless of their sound, there are two members: Ninja, an orcish male who uses Stevie Wonder for a barber; and Yolandi Visser, a Gorgon who rivals Ninja for worst haircut in the universe and uses Guillermo del Toro as her makeup artist. Apparently, their publicist was owed a huge favor by Neill Blomkamp, because this movie is not about a lovable sentient robot named Chappie, as I was led to believe. Rather, this movie was about Die Antwoord, and only Die Antwoord. It's just Die Antwoord. Die Antwoord and their adventures, Die Antwoord. Die Antwoord, forever and forever, a hundred years Die Antwoord, s... things. Me and Die Antwoord runnin' around and Die Antwoord time. Aaall day long forever. All, a hundred days Die Antwoord forever a hundred times. Over and over Die Antwoord adventures dot com W W W dot Die Antwoord dot com W W W Die Antwoord adventures all hundred years. Every minute Die Antwoord dot com W W W hundred times Die Antwoord dot com.

What's sin/cos again? Oh yeah, tangent. Anyway, the movie is about Die Antwoord. Ninja and Yolandi had the absolute stroke of publicity genius to play characters named Ninja and Yolandi. They're seriously playing themselves, but in gangster form. Ninja and Yolanda Yells A Lot are gangster criminals who are teamed up with a stereotypical Mexican man named Amerika (I'm not making this up). They steal this robot named Chappie, who the nerdy guy from Slumdog Millionaire created and made sentient through the magical powers of Red Bull and typing on a keyboard real fast. Die Antwoord and their inexplicable partner-in-crime teach Chappie how to be criminals, whilst Die Antwoord music blares in the background, just in case you forgot Die Antwoord had a small part in the production of this abomination of film. Some more stuff happens. Die Antwoord is mentioned a few more thousand times.

I don't feel like walking through every scene in the movie. Just know that some conflict happens. And Yolandi dies. Then the nerdy kid who created Chappie does too. But fear not! To end the movie, Neill Blomkaputt (who I bet drives a PT Cruiser) pulls out A GIANT DEUS EX MACHINA: Chappie is able to transfer the conciousness of both characters into robots! So everything is great, and they live on as robots! Isn't that great? I love happy endings. Haha they're so great. Everything is good. Hahahahaha. I just love the ending so much because it's happy and all loose ends are tied hahah .Ha. Hahahhdfasdfafjohafjohhjoghnfgjfn

Hugh Jackman and Sig Sauer Weaver are also in this film, with smaller roles than their Die Antwoord cast members. Huge Ackman plays a predictable and poorly written Australian antagonist who enjoys tucked-in shirts. To make sure you know he's evil, he carries a gun everywhere and has a mullet. Sign Language Boll Weevil plays the boss of the company for which the nerdy guy and Hue Jackhammer work. Her character is alright, albeit clearly written just to fill gaps in the story. I mean, if the only woman character besides Yolandi isn't going to chastise the two competing male characters, who will?

This movie was an abomination on the big screen. A disgrace to cinema. A humiliation of motion picture. The movie played out like an improvised story I made up while playing with action figures as a child. Except my imagination has better music and deeper character development. The plot is not cohesive in the least, and the cast are all two dimensional cardboard cutouts of cliche action movie characters. The most human of any character in this waste of celluloid is Chappie, who, might I remind you, is a robot.

Did I mention that "Die Antwoord" is mentioned everywhere inside the movie itself, from graffiti on the walls to Ninja's shirt at the end of the movie saying "Yolandi Visser - Die Antwoord"? The film never once attempts to explain any of the blatant marketing present throughout. Rather, it just prefers you don't think about it. Well, I don't follow rules. Commence thinking. So are Ninja and Yolandi of the movie universe the same as their real life counterparts? Did they somehow become poor South African gangsters despite a very successful musical career? Or are they a different Ninja and Yolandi? A Ninja and a Yolandi who are part of a different undefined group called Die Antwoord who listen to Die Antwoord music (which doesn't exist)? It makes no sense. Die Antwoord needs to either exist or not. Neill Blomkamp took Die Antwoord, molded it into the shape of a cat, and shoved it into a box with a vial of poison.

I loved District 9, another film of Neill Blomkamp's. It was a great science fiction film that was both great fun and shockingly gritty. It had a great and somewhat original plot that reached an exciting climax and ended on a good note. Chappie rode on the success of District 9 to build hype, only to disappoint worse than the Seahawks in Super Bowl XLIX. District 9 was like the Seahawks' previous win. Chappie's potential was like the 1 yard to the end zone. Neil Blomkamp was like Pete Carroll. Die Antwoord was like Malcolm Butler. The result in both situations was me leaving angrily and taking a long shower while listening to Dust In The Wind. 1/10.

TL;DR... Die Antwoord. 1/10

Review #4 - 2005 Touring Edition Chrysler PT Cruiser

“Kyle, what tragedy has befallen you that you have come into possession of such an abominable monstrosity? Don’t you have any self respect?”

This is the typical reaction upon hearing that I do, in fact, drive a 2005 Touring Edition Chrysler PT Cruiser in the colorway “chick-magnet chrome”. My sex-on-wheels is named Petunia. Let it be known that I did not buy Petunia. Technically, it’s not even mine. It’s my parents’. When my sister accidentally totaled my first car, my parents let me drive Petunia and they bought a new car. So it was basically free for me. So shut up, okay? If you got a car for free, you'd drive it, too, right? Right? Guys?....

Oh, where do I begin? Well, let’s pretend this is a colonoscopy and start on the outside and work our way in.

To put it bluntly, the PT cruiser looks like a porpoise running into a glass wall. Nothing about the car is aesthetically pleasing. It’s as ugly as Emma Watson isn’t. I mean, the designer of this car must have taken inspiration from a bag of mayonnaise. The front of the car resembles the child of Gene Shalit and a three toed sloth, and the rear resembles Joseph Merrick.

Medusa's car of choice

If you cover the top of the car with your hand, the PT becomes a bathtub on wheels

The interior of the car is spacious, yet downright silly. The first thing that people notice when they reluctantly climb into my ride is the lack of window controls on the door. Then, they notice the strange buttons in the center of the dash.

Fun fact: Every PT Cruiser owner’s manual has the number to the
national psychiatric help hotline written on the front cover. 

Those little lever-button-thingies are actually the window controls. Why are they placed there? The answer to that question still eludes scientists to this day. But it gets better. Not only are the window controls in the middle for the front seats, but the back seats get the same treatment. Rather than put them on the doors, as is logical, the PT Cruiser has the rear window controls near the floor, between the front seats.

This way, you can roll the window down with your foot while you contemplate the series of life
choices that led to you sitting in the back seat of a PT Cruiser

The interior is admittedly spacious. You can fit Donald Trump's ego in the front seat and still have room to spare. The steering wheel is pleasingly large, adding to the feeling that you're driving a vehicle much larger than it really is. The design of the dash gives off a dystopian 1950s vibe. The gauges are all stuck inside of little tubes so you feel like you're looking down a Pringles can every time you check your speed, and a few pieces of the dash are shiny plastic to trick you into thinking metal is actually used in any part of this car's construction.

All the lights on my dash except one recently went out, meaning that I cannot see my speed in the dark. I've tried explaining this during several late-night traffic stops, but no police officer seems to believe me. Apparently smelling alcohol on my breath makes me a liar? But I digress...
In order to fix this problem, one cannot simply open up the dash and replace the lights. Rather, one has to remove the dash from door to door to gain access to the dash lights. So really, maintaining this car is as difficult as looking at it.

Oh, and the driving is as ugly as the aesthetics. My biggest gripe is the turning. The turning radius is just disastrous. Have you ever seen a bow-legged cow stricken with vertigo make a right turn? If you’ve seen a PT Cruiser turn a corner, you’ve gotten close enough. I've done three-point turns just to take a curve on the freeway. The New Horizons probe that slingshot around Jupiter? It was actually a PT Cruiser driver making a U-turn. Once you get up to speed, don't expect to brake quickly. Pushing down the brake pedal feels like stepping on a stack of wet newspaper. The acceleration is pretty abysmal as well. You can floor the gas pedal and still feel like you're driving a depressed slug with a drinking problem. And after driving this, you might have one too.

Overall, I rate the PT Cruiser i/10. There exists no real number that can accurately express my dislike for this car. I wish the car were as imaginary as the number with which I rate it.

TL;DR... *vomits uncontrollably*

(The Real) Review #3 - Using Tinder

For those of you not up-to-date on the hip young culture of today's youth, Tinder is an app for intelligent mobile telephones that allows you to "connect" with people in your vicinity. This can mean something as simple as gaining a friend to talk to, or something as serious as accidentally creating a small human. The following introduction and review is from the perspective of a male user interested in female users. Mileage may vary depending on your gender and sexual orientation.

INTRODUCTION

I'll begin by walking you through the steps of Tinder, for those unfamiliar. To mingle with potential victims mates, you create a profile that consists of some pictures of yourself doing various yoga poses, going on hikes, and drinking with your besties at a frat party. You then write a short bio telling of your fondness for hiking and coffee. Be sure to include how you "aren't" looking for hookups*. If you're feeling really pretentious then you shouldn't even include a bio, but instead write: "if you want to get to know me, just ask". This is a challenge to the male, signalling that it will take work to reach the end-goal, whatever that may be. The male must perform a variety of tasks to impress the female, including being attractive and not being unattractive. If done properly, the female will assume lordosis and mating can begin.

*Hookups, for the elderly and rock-dwellers, are what used to be known as "one-night stands". The term has changed to reflect the fact that today's youths are so promiscuous that they are willing to engage in intercourse during daylight hours. 

I'm not sure if males perform the profile step in a different fashion to females, since I only see female's profiles. However, if my profile is any indication, writing about your ice cream cone-making skills and appreciation for the Oxford comma will filter through the basic white girls and leave only the finest specimens. I call this tactic "panning for gold", since you are sifting out those who are dumb as rocks, yet are likely to never find what you are looking for. A good picture is also needed. Take, for example, the picture of me taking a selfie with a packet of Top Ramen: it tells women that I'm mysterious, because taking a picture with a packet of Top Ramen is, in fact, impossible. Simultaneously, it alerts women to the fact that I have a face and two arms, a quality often sought after in the dating world.

An example of a perfect Tinder picture: subtle and unassuming, with an astringent mouth-feel.

Once the bio is finished, you move on to the next step in this generation's mating dance: matching. You are presented, one by one, with every Tinder user of your preferred gender (still gender binary only. Sorry, otherkin) within a set radius. You must decide, based on their bios and pictures, if they are worthy of your approval. If their appearance and description meet your unrealistically high standards, then you use your Dorito-stained fingers to "swipe right" on them (this is also known as "like"). If the other person finds you attractive for some reason, they reciprocate, and Tinder declares you "matched". You aren't told if a user likes you unless you have both liked each other. Being alerted to a match is Tinder's way of notifying you that you are NOT unattractive to every member of the opposite sex, just most. A match is a rarity, and you should proceed with more tact than President Clinton's speech writer.

The next step is easily the most frightening: the first message. As a man, I was tasked with sending the first message. This proved to be difficult and required a great amount of trial-and-error. The opening message is like walking across a tight rope: on one side, you have the chance of accidentally sounding like Jeffrey Dahmer; and on the other, you have accidentally sounding like Ben Stein. The balancing act is tedious and difficult, but not impossible. Throughout my weeks on Tinder, I've found one important piece of advice for aspiring womanizers: women are like angry sea lions, in that they don't appreciate sexual advances as a first introduction.


REVIEW

Despite my best efforts to lure in unsuspecting attract women, I received far fewer likes than I sent. This can mean one of two things: either everyone is too intimated by my good looks and witty charm to risk being rejected, or they refuse to swipe right because it would remove my face from their screen. Regardless, a few lucky women decided to take their chances and swipe right on me. What's that, audience? You say you're hungry to read about my Tinder experiences? Well sit down and open your mouths wide, because here comes the plane.

The first match I had on Tinder was with a chick named Michaela. She was a self-described Kurt Vonnegut enthusiast. I didn't know what that meant, but I did know that I am a woman enthusiast, which is close enough. After some quick Googling, I discovered that Kurt Vonnegut is not a German gastrointestinal issue, but rather, an author. He looked like a combination of Bob Ross and Einstein, with a bit of Kermit the Frog thrown in. How anybody could be enthusiastic about a man who looks like a plastic bag blowing across a parking lot is beyond me. My attempts to win her courtship were dashed by her sudden lack of correspondence.

A few weeks after downloading Tinder, I matched with a woman named Amber. She was kind of pretty, but more importantly, she was female. I spent a fair amount of time considering what to say in my opening message. Should I take the construction worker approach and cat call her? What about the average Joe approach and just say hi? Should I mention the fact that I can solve a Rubik's Cube? That really gets 'em going, right? Hours went by. I was sweating like a cold glass of water. My knees were ready to buckle, and my arms had a significant amount of weight. My sweater was covered in spaghetti. I weighed my options, and eventually chose the perfect opening message. "This is sure to work," I thought.

"Somebody call the Amberlance, because I just fell for you!" I hit enter, and waited. It was perfect. I felt like da Vinci after painting the Mona Lisa, before he realized he forgot the eyebrows. Minutes ticked by and the sweat poured down my face like an obese man without a scooter in Wal Mart. My heart was pounding more than an obese man taking the last scooter in a Wal Mart, knowing full well that the man behind him wanted it. More time passed, because that's what time does. Then, she finally replied: "Oh my gosh, you're adorable!" Somehow, my pun worked. However, my hours spent writing the perfect opening message were fruitless, as she already had a boyfriend. Don't ask me why she was on Tinder, because I cannot, for the life of me, understand. This was, inexplicably, a common thing on Tinder. This common occurrence lowered my opinion of the app greatly.

Overall, I'd say that Tinder is pretty bad if you're not using it to be promiscuous. I have since met a pretty cool girl because of Tinder (Sara, if you're reading this, thank a teacher). But other than that, my experiences with Tinder were pretty discouraging. I will say, however, that Tinder is a great source of entertainment. If you're in a big city, the assortment of individuals you find on there is astounding. I once saw the profile of a self-proclaimed "vegan dog-groomer and rapist-killer." She had a facial piercing that could only be described as "The Hitler", and her drawn-on eyebrows made her look like a flabbergasted Vulcan. This profile alone was enough to give Tinder a positive score. It's great if you want to be entertained, yet deplorable if you just want to hang out with people. I give my experiences with the app a 6.7/10.

TL;DR... Ehh 6.7/10

Review #3 - Tinder

CALM DOWN, NADIA! HOLD YOUR HORSES.

Review #2 - A Song of Ice and Fire Box Set

LACK OF SPOILER ALERT: There are no spoilers in the following review.

A Christmas or two ago, I was gifted a new A Song of Ice and Fire box set. Since George R.R. Martin is writing the next book as fast as a flock of basic white girls figuring out their Starbucks order, I figured I would ask for the incomplete box set that Christmas, rather than have the complete set delivered to my graveside. This proved to be a bad idea.

(A Storm of Swords not pictured) Do you see the problem in the picture above? It can be hard to see at first, but once you see it, it's a big problem that needs to be addressed, like if the love child of a chameleon and an elephant found its way into the room. 

Scan along the spines of each book and notice the design of every section of each spine. Is anything off? If you look closely, you'll see that the designer of the last spine is, in fact, very stupid. The formatting for "A DANCE WITH DRAGONS" is completely different than any other book before it. Forget the heart-breaking character deaths, forget the rampant incest, and forget the One True King's daughter suddenly becoming super hot; I am outraged by the fact that someone entrusted Helen Keller to design the spine of the latest book. Everything else about the box set is great, but I can't enjoy this product when the voice in my head reads the last title as if I am suddenly the Fonz. I give it a 6/10. Why is the "A" so big? Why is the "WITH" so small? Find out on the next episode of Dragon Ball Z!

TL;DR... Owning this box set gave me an ulcer. 6/10

Review #1 - Brita Spacesaver Small Pitcher

For my first ever review, I will give my thoughts on my Brita Spacesaver Small Pitcher. "That's such a stupid thing to review first, you idiot," I hear you saying. Well, shut up. I have very strong feelings for this masterpiece of stupidity and I want to tell you all about them.

Let me just begin with a disclaimer: this is the first water pitcher I have ever owned. I am not an expert on water pitchers. If you're an expert on water pitchers, I implore you to get a better hobby. Regardless of my inexperience with such devices, I can still give my thoughts on such a worthless piece of plastic.

Late one night, after waking up to a thirst equivalent to Miley Cyrus on ecstasy, I reached for my water bottle that I keep next to my bed. Much to my dismay, it was empty. "Oh, no problem! I bought a Brita Spacesaver Small Pitcher just for this situation! I'll pour water from the pitcher straight into my water bottle in a similar fashion to what the pitcher is designed to do!" I thought. I opened my fridge, removed the Brita Spacesaver Small Pitcher, and tried to pour water. But you know what came out of the pitcher instead of water?

The lid. The lid came out. It just flopped onto the ground. Have you ever seen a giraffe pass out? The lid behaves in a similar fashion. The design behind the lid on this marvel of engineering is astoundingly terrible. Does it clip on? No. Does it fit snugly into place? No. It just sits there. The lid on the Brita Spacesaver Small Pitcher falls off easier than a paraplegic tightrope walker. The lid even falls off when the pitcher is put back into the fridge. I could set the pitcher down gently in my fridge, make sure the lid is sitting squarely on the pitcher, then slowly close the door as if I just put my baby down for a nap, and yet, somehow, the lid ends up on the opposite end of the fridge. I'm pretty sure I've discovered the lid in my sock drawer once after setting it in the fridge. Sometimes I think I hear it whisper my name in my sleep.

Brita Spacesaver Small Pitcher (Above)

Note the distinct lack of lid

The Brita Spacesaver Small Pitcher lid is worthless, but the rest of the pitcher is not particularly noteworthy. It acts like a pitcher should. It resembles other pitchers. The handle has an ergonomic design that allows for optimal handling. The clear design is a brilliant choice, allowing you to see the clarity of the water before it is poured out of the pitcher. There will be no surprises as to the content of your pitcher. The thin design of the body allows for storage in small refrigerators, even when the fridge is filled with your roommate's various half-empty drinks. Or maybe they're half-full, if you're an optimist. Either way, clean the dang fridge, Steven it's disgusting and I'm pretty sure the mayo is 8 months' expired why is it so hard to comprehend that expired food should be thrown out ITS COMMON COURTESY... The filter does its job, filtering the water so it no longer tastes like the Puget Sound. The main body of this pitcher gets an 8/10. But apparently the design team at Brita mixed up their Spacesaver lid blueprints with their used toilet paper after a late night of tacos and beer.

The lid of this abhorrent water pitcher brings the rating far below the rating I gave for the body, like an ugly face on a hot body. Overall, I would give the Brita Spacesaver Small Pitcher a 3 out of 10. While it is certainly better than your ex finding a new boyfriend not two weeks after breaking up, the anxiety and stress it presents is comparable.

TL;DR... The thing sucks. 3/10