This is the new MTV reality show about a group of guidos living in a beach house for the summer. It's like one of those crappy email forwards full of pictures of guys with bad designer clothes, prickly hair, and fake tans throwing gang symbols at the camera, but it's actually alive. This is such a genius idea that we can't believe it hasn't been done before. No, Growing up Gotti does not count. We have the promo for you, but we have to ease you into it. Here are all the things that are going to be great about this sociological experiment. December 3 can not come soon enough.

Hair: The coiffure of the guido in his native habitat is a thing of beauty. As distinctive as the fluke of a whale and as arresting as the plumage on a turkey's tail, it is an amazing sculpture of gel and ingenuity. This is not so much as vanity, but artistry. You should buy an HD television to watch it in all its majesty.

Muscles: A guido without muscles is like a paraplegic without a wheelchair—he just wouldn't be able to function. Also, they make him spectacular to behold. Especially when he is in contest with others of his species.

Tanning: Hipsters have the ashen death pallor that is cultivated through hours of cruising the city at night and afternoons spent lying in a filthy unmade bed contemplating the importance of Animal Collective. Guidos just lie in a magical bed for 10 minutes a week and—Bam!!—they are a wonderful golden brown color. The darker they are, the more dedicated they are to their craft. We like ours to be the color of wet infield clay, but really we can appreciate the full color spectrum of browns.

Sunglasses in Nightclubs: This is not behavior that is exclusive to our subject but it it one they excel at over all other cultures. It has something to do with the tackiness and size of the sunglasses in comparison with the substandard lighting systems of the nightspots that they frequent. Also, they can not put them on the top of their heads, in case they crush the gel sculpture that is resting there.

Mating Rituals: As much as we hate the idea of their species propagating, we can't get enough of the intricate dances where the males try to woo the females. The female's plumage to attract a mate is equal to, if not surpassing, the males. When the two get together, it's like rubbing French manicured nails over a nylon stuffed with honeydews. Also, they often lead to...

Fights!: We don't know whether it's macho posturing, roid rage, or something in the water in parts of New Jersey, but when it comes to sparring in public the only creature that does it better are the ones classified as Real Housewives. The muscles, hair, tans, sunglasses, and mating rituals all assemble to create these fights, which are greater than the sum of their parts. Much like Voltron, but with better hair and bigger sunglasses.

OK, you are now ready to watch the trailer. They should put this on The Discovery Channel, it's so beautiful.

It was bad. It was really bad. It was not bad in the good way. It was not bad ironically. It was not bad in the "Let's go see it because we like to watch bad movies like Knowing, and laugh at them" way. I do not want to say the wrong thing here, that might convince anyone that this movie is worth paying to see, even for train wreck purposes.

This is the movie that happens when a narcissist—not an interesting one, though—writes an entire movie about how cool he is, and is given full creative control over that movie. Imagine someone you know who is an asshole. Now imagine that person being able to write and produce a movie about themselves, and how awesome they are. There you have it.

The plot of this film: Tucker Max and two of his bros go to a bachelor party, meeting various cum sluts along the way. Whore bitches can't get enough of Tucker Max's bad boy personality, which is probably why so many of these twats want him inside of their vaginas. Tucker fucks a midget stripper and the world loves him for it, the end. Other highlights:

• Close-ups of poop, coming out of someone's butt, a lot.
• There's a wedding scene in the end where the guests are all white and the servers are all black. There's not a joke to go with that.
• The best character in the film is Tucker's friend Drew, because he looks like he was just dropped in from another movie, and can't wait to get back. Drew is a misanthropic video game nerd who goes to strip club and meets a hot stripper who is also a video game nerd and falls for him and they rush home and sleep together and Drew instantly bonds with her son and they become a couple immediately. This is as close to a plausible male-female interaction sequence as this movie gets.

This movie is not, in fact, hilarious.
[Pic: Flickr]

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.The Invention of Lying, which Gervais co-wrote and co-directed with Matthew Robinson, looks pretty funny and absurdist and sports a bogglingly good cast—Gervais, Jennifer Garner, Jonah Hill, Christopher Guest, Tina Fey, Martin Starr, Jason Bateman, Jeffrey Tambor, Rob Lowe, Patrick Stewart, Stephanie March, John Hodgman, and Louis C.K., among others. Ridiculous.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.Inglourious Basterds will be bloody good bloody fun. We're especially liking Mike Myers' gonzo Brit in this trailer.

The image associated with this post is best viewed using a browser.Hm... While The Box has an interesting concept, our faith in Richard Kelly is a bit rattled after Southland Tales. Now, that movie definitely had its merits (that whole virtuoso Justin TImberlake/"All These Things That I've Done" sequence chief among them), but in sum it was a muddled mess. The trailer for this picture begins promisingly (if you can forgive Cameron Diaz's brutal accent) with a creepy, fable-like setup, but then devolves into watery, ugly CGI and we start to worry. Also, does the presence of James Marsden mean he's on the leading-mean up and up, or does it mean that this is a schlocky B-horror film? Sadly, we kinda think it's the latter.

We don't see any of the famous gay cage fight, but there is plenty of fucking with the fashion industry and uptight manly types to make up for that. While Borat made us dumb Americans feel ignorant of the big old world out there, Bruno seems like it will make us feel childish and whiny, afraid of sex and other weird, gross things. Bring it on.

The short promo reel, which featured segments introduced by the film's star, Sacha Baron Cohen, via video, showed Cohen's gay fashion wannabe icon Bruno interviewing the hapless, bewildered, and fame hungry. He entices people into agreeing to subject their babies to horrible things, just so they can be in a photo shoot. He enrages fight-goers by making out with another dude. And he adopts a black baby and trots it out onto a talk show. So funny "scandalous" stuff meant to shock and horrify the easily shocked and horrified.

There's been the requisite reaction from Twitterheads:

Vulture has a roundup of "critics"' reactions, including Quint from Ain't It Cools News, who called the film "a commentary on how people really act." Which is good for, you know, a documentary of sorts.

Some dude from Austin 360 offers up a comprehensive summation of why this movie exists: "The movie is bound to stir up just as much controversy as Borat. And that's the point."

Which is true. But does anyone get as annoyed as me at all of these people who think they're so fuckin' with it, man, so they crow about how "controversial" and "scandalous" but "brilliant" Borat was, while thinking they sound really hip and sardonic and enlightened? I kinda think those people suck. It was a funny movie, yes, and yes he pushed buttons that were sitting there all shiny and red, just begging to be pushed. And I'm sure Bruno will be much the same. But gratuitously patting yourself on the back for "getting" Sacha Baron Cohen's humor is as charming and original as saying that Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was "warped." If you thought that, then you're just another part of the machine, man.

• High-end luxury advertisers (Hermes has the back cover on the premier issue).
• Freelancer-heavy editorial staff with "a little more freedom in terms of how they write" than newspaper writers.
• "You'll see the Journal approach in how we speak to [RICH MAGAZINE READERS'] lifestyle."
• "What we're always intently trying to do is transport the DNA of the Journal into the magazine."

It all adds up to: something incredibly similar to How To Spend It, the FT's glossy magazine. Why not shock us, WSJ.?

[Ad Age, WWD]

Then, it stung me like a hundred bees. Preston has not told me everything. He is holding something back. We've only been together for two nights, and this was nothing serious, so I had no right to question him. WRONG!!! I had every right.

I did just that. I asked him if there was something I needed to know- more importantly, if he had a family. "I have two children. They live with their mother. I see them on the off-seasons."

Oh no! Terrance is cool with it though; he says he's been in that situation before. Plus, Preston gives him a present (and us a clue):

Preston had me sprung. Yup, he sure did. Because to solidify he was serious about me and him, by the end of the week he brought me one of his personal team's jersey.

"Here you go," Preston said as he pulled the jersey from behind his back. "This is for you."
"This is for me," I said jubilant. I stared at his number. I had memorized the double-digit number from when I googled him on-line. I was going to make sure to find his number while I watched him run up and down the court.

Double digits. Take note! Finally, they take a surprise trip:

We pulled up to a beautiful home. As soon as the car pulled up, an older woman came through the front door. It was his mother. Preston was taking me to introduce me to her. A wonderful woman. Such a warm spirit and very loving. She readily accepted me. I was now on the "in." I met two important people in his life.

Maybe this was love? Maybe Preston was the man of my dreams.

Maybe? I should be receiving an actual copy of Dean's book in the near future. So any further secrets contained within will be revealed.

[1224 Confessions]

"In the meantime, I hoped on the computer and googled Preston. Oh you best believe I checked him out. I mean what person wouldn't? Normally I would not have done it, but I wanted to know more about this talented basketball player. I had to find out his stats - height (Preston is a tall dude. I am tall, standing at 6'2, but I felt short next to his long lean muscular body). I checked his weight, rebounds, average points per game, how long he's been playing, and other vital information.

I was impressed. Preston was on top of his game. The press liked him and he was hometown favorite. In high school and college he was an all-around favorite, traveling across the country showcasing his talented ball-handling skills. The more I discovered, the more I liked. So, I was looking forward to spending more time with this amazing basketball player."

Later, they hook up again. Then "Preston" gets an urgent phone call. What happens next?

Check back tomorrow when Preston introduces Terrance to some important people.

Okay!

[1224 Confessions]

Dean is at a club, on an island vacation spot, when he meets him:

He was across the room standing against the wall with a drink in his hand. He was bobbing his head to the Hip-Hop beats and surrounded by slew of bodacious women and physically fit men.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was absolutely gorgeous - Tall, caramel, chinky eyes, and a body that wouldn't stop. Damn, he was fine! I felt the temperature in my body rise. Lust was speaking and its low growl was whispering in my ears.

Then he looked over in my direction and smiled.

They have a short, coy meeting at the bar. Who was that man?

I asked my boy Clever if he knew the beautiful specimen of a man. Clever acknowledged that he did. "That's 'Preston' I haven't seen him in a while. He's always on the road. He plays for ________."

Now, I am really excited. This professional athlete just approached me and how he did it was so smooth. No one noticed anything.

The next night, Dean is in his hotel room:

Anyway, I opened the door and there he was. Tall, broad, strong, sexy, and smiling at me. Preston strolled into my suite as if it was his own. I was in shock. My mouth dropped open, and so did every molecule and cell in my body.

I quickly closed the door. Preston didn't say a word. Nothing. His muscular body glided into the bedroom. I followed. He unbuttoned his shirt and revealed an amazing physique. I followed suit, and, like that, me and Preston went at each other like two lovers in heat. We wanted each other badly. We explored each other's bodies as we peeled off our clothes and strewn them throughout the room.

My gosh, Preston was ferocious in bed. His soft lips met mine. We kissed tenderly, and then passionately. Our tongues danced in each other's mouths. We groped each other finding different and wonderful places to touch. His long hard muscle was massive. He felt wonderful in my hands.

We have no guesses!

[1224 Confessions]

Last night's edition of brain-smoothing dinnertime celebrity newsmagazine Extra offered up a crazy-flavored appetizer for the upcoming Bravo reality series, Hey, Paula!!!, in which the American Idol judge unscrews the top of her head and allows the world an opportunity to climb inside and stroll around the church-parking-lot-quality carnival that is her mind. The brief clip reveals little, but now we do know this: her "best friend" is her stylist (always a sign that a famous person has disengaged from reality), there are many fluffy dogs—some of which will defecate on camera—underfoot to provide believable excuses for medication-induced mishaps, and we will get some glimpses of the Idol-related "exhaustion" incidents that are the reason the show exists in the first place. Unfortunately, we have to wait until late June before the star can officially welcome us into her home, a greeting that we expect will be followed by Abdul handing us a shopping bag full of half-empty prescription-pill bottles and urging us to makes ourselves at home.

• Extra TV [warnerbros.com]
• Previously: Paula Abdul Thinks Ex-Flack Didn't Jump On Enough Grenades For Her [Defamer]