Tag Archives: New Jersey

My Favorite Super Bowls (That May or May Not Have Happened)

By Andrew Blumetti

Well, this certainly didn’t happen.

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February.

Talk about getting the most bang for your buck.  They really do pack a lot into a little month, don’t they?

In a mere twenty eight days, we’re graced with a bountiful bevy of winter celebration–  Valentine’s Day, Groundhog Day, President’s Day, Mardi Gras, Black History Month, Spring Training, and the most important of ‘em all (after Spring Training of course), there’s the great American holiday of Super Bowl Sunday, the biggest party since New Year’s Eve, only one month ago.

While granted, February’s short run is not as eventful as the unseen four weeks during 28 Days Later, but it makes me happy to celebrate my birthday during what would normally end up being a freezing, snowy, boring month with a girly-colored wuss birthstone.

Are you kidding me?

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Living in the greater New York area, especially within earshot of Giants Stadium (or MetLife Snoopy Stadium, or whatever it’s called now), the excitement, traffic, and overall buzz has been ramped up to a Spinal Tap-worthy 11 as the Denver Broncos go mono-a-mono with the Seattle Seahawks for all the gusto and glamor of gridiron glory.  It’s truly rocky vs. rainy in the Legal Marijuana Bowl.

Blumes note:  This offer still stands!  Now half price! 

But frankly, it’s Friday, January 31st, this is all old hat by now.

At this point, you’ve been endlessly bombarded with Super Bowl ads, magazine covers, news reports, cocky fans, and nonstop party planning for weeks now.  When Monday morning comes, and you’re more chili than man, you’ll undoubtedly know the Super Bowl had come and left its mark.

But that’s not who this article is for. 

Maybe you’re not a fan of hawks or horses, perhaps Richard Sherman’s post-game interview rubbed you the wrong way, or heck, or maybe you’re one of those people seriously considering a 7th Heaven marathon instead of football this weekend.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Your special teams for the Oakland Raiders!

Of course that doesn’t mean you won’t find yourself enjoying the festivities of Super Bowl Sunday.  Dr. Oz-unfriendly food, offensively expensive commercials (that always feature a baby doing something un-babyish), the sickeningly adorable Puppy Bowl, and trying to get your greased-up fingers to press the remote buttons to change the channel as Bruno Mars performs at halftime- this Sunday is a bombastic event that will please folks of all tastes.  …as evident by this walk down memory lane of some truly classic and heavily unorthodox Super Bowl games of yore.

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1. SUPER BOWL XXXII: BATMAN VS. STORMTROOPERS

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na SAFETY!

 

As John Madden once called it in a most clever anagram, “Capes vs. Space”, this battle royale pitted The Dark Knight vs. the Imperial Army for 60 minutes of a nerdtastic pigskin extravaganza.  After a first quarter that was heavy on the Big D, Commissioner Gordon’s 45 yard rush into the endzone to close out the first half put Team Gotham up on top.

No guts, no glory, as the ‘Troopers marched their way back in the 4th quarter.

The second half was a superhero explosion of history-making offense as holy touchdowns Batman!—  the Caped Crusader aired it out to the Boy Wonder (who took a time out from cheerleading) in the Gotham endzone.

But, when the going gets tough, the tough get going, as the Stormtroopers, with their armored backs against the wall, bounced back to tie the game as the 2-minute warning approached.  Coach Vader flipped a crap when an ill-timed interception by Alfred the Butler spelled death for the Star Wars crew with the Bats taking home the trophy to Gotham City with a score of 28-21.

Go Team! Arwwwwwaaaaaaaarrrrrrahahahahahhaahhhhaa!!!!


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2.  SUPER BOWL XI:  KISS BOWL  (AKA THE TOILET BOWL)

 

“I wanna hike the ball all night!”


And you thought the Jaguars were bad…

Nothing screams out “gridiron glory” like mime makeup and gaudy platform shoes on men, but that’s why the KISS bowl was so unique.

Walking embarrassment Gene Simmons bit his long cow tongue as he slipped on his own fake blood on no less than three occasions, turning the usually triumphant game into a fumble-filled lowlight reel.  Pain in the ace, Mr. Frehley, shanked four field goal attempts, and starchild, Paul Stanley?   Well, he might as well have been the MVP… for the other team.

Chest hair and touchdowns!  Not just for Joe Namath anymore!

As far as scoring went, it was Detroit Block City.  The spandexed makeuped-ones never did touch the endzone, as KISS went down in defeat to good taste 49-0.

The best worst part was that they weren’t even asked to play the halftime show.  That honor went to The Doobie Brothers.

The great part about being KISS, is you can sell any crap you want at the souvenir stands…

 

The epilogue to this heavy metal tale of the 100 yards KISS never did get back to the Super Bowl, but on the plus side, KISS never did get back to the Super Bowl.

That jersey has the actual number of KISS fans left on Earth.

 

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3.  SUPER BOWL XLV:  ZOMBIE BOWL

Let’s have a hand for the hometeam!

It may have been only three years ago, but who could forget when the undead took down scalpers stadium-wide and invaded the turf during the timeless showdown of the Green Bay Packers and Pittsburgh Steelers?

Turning Aaron Rodgers into an Aaron Rodgers kabob?  Transforming Clay Matthews into an undead Thor?  Sending “Big Ben” Roethlisberger to the sideline to finally get some brains?

It all happened.  I guess.

Indigestion from overindulging in extra hot Buffalo wings rendered Daryl and Michonne practically useless that Sunday.

While the gameplay may have been painfully lumbering and a bit lethargic at times, it was no worse than any given Cleveland Browns game on a random Sunday.

The “Running Dead” tried to bite Tim Tebow on the sidelines, but he was immune to it.


But if Broadway has taught us anything, (and I guess it has…) —  the show must go on, flesh eaters or not.

Time will tell us that the zombies vs. zombies Super Bowl was a tad gory, maybe too confusing at times, and it may have taken five days to finish, but in the end, it was much less traumatizing than the Black Eyed Peas halftime show.

4th Down of the Dead!

 

One would be safe to assume the zombie apocalypse and certain doomsday would put a damper on the game’s festivities, with all the undead cannibalism and spilled guts, but the TV ratings reached an all-time high.  The NFC z-team ended up hoisting the Vince Lombardi Trophy, rotting limbs and all, bringing it back to frigid Green Bay where decaying slows down like Kirstie Alley’s metabolism.

THE ZOMBIES HAVE BECOME HIDEOUS!

The trophy had to be immediately sent out to be cleaned and shined due to the high volume of blood on it …on a weekly basis.

(On a positive note, in the zombie onslaught, Steelers safety Troy Polamalu was attacked, but escaped by a “hair”.)

Parking was tighter than George Costanza’s wallet…

…but the tailgating was awesome!

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4.  SUPER BOWL XLII:  THE RETURN OF BUD BOWL

 

 

Eli vs. Tom- buds for life!

 

For those too young to remember, the Bud Bowl was an early 90’s stop-motion beer bottle football tour de force that found its home during commercial breaks, squeezed in between multi-million dollar ads for Crystal Pepsi and The Bodyguard soundtrack.  It was a kick-glass all-out brawl between Budweiser and Bud Light.  Even as a long retired campaign, for me, that fateful Sunday in 2008 always be the year that the suds saved football.

Hut, hut… HOPS!!!

 

Phoenix, AZ–  When a thunderous monsoon that would’ve knocked over human brick wall, Howie Long, hit, it kept planes grounded and prevented both the Pats and G-Men from making their way into warm, sunny Arizona, the NFL pooped their britches, panicked and pooped them some more.

“But I wanna go on the PLAAAANNEE!!”

Sadly, cancelling the big game seemed like the only choice left, seeing as how there was no way to get the unfortunate stranded teams into the balmy city in time.  Luckily, the answer was only a bar away…

Long dead since 1997, a time when candy-lovin’ alternarock trio Marcy Playground was brimming with untapped potential, the beer bottles were called off the bench as Bud Bowl sat in as the substitute teacher for the real teams.   It was truly like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but for drunks.

“My nose is red cause I’m half in the bag!”

The bottles tossed on the teams’ uniforms, and no one in the massive Arizona crowd was the wiser.  Nearly sixty minutes of play time and we all know what happened next-   Ale-I Manning to Beer David Tyree (what a good pick in the draft), the miraculous helmet catch, and a near-perfect season for New England ended in an 18-1 conclusion, as the bottled Big Blue were swimming in confetti in the Big Apple soon after.

No feelings were bottled-up in this game…

Understandably, in Massachusetts, spirits were wicked low, and where did they go?  To a bar of course.  NORM!

“Sammy, I’ve told you for years that beer saves all.”

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5.  SUPER BOWL XLIV: GAME MVP- ABE LINCOLN

Four Scores!  … and seven years ago.

 

For a few brief hours, the “L” in NFL stood for Lincoln.

We all know Abraham Lincoln was a president, emancipator, and a vampire hunter, but do you remember Abe’s big-time appearance in the Super Bowl?

The bearded one was called in to play when Peyton Manning had to leave the game early to film an impromptu Kraft Macaroni and Cheese commercial.   He ran out, flying past the cheerleaders, zooming by the mascots, with the glisten of anger in his eyes, sweat on his brow, and a chin beard so mighty, the heavens above stopped to gaze in majestic awe.

The stovetop hat was thrown down, the shoulder pads were thrust on, and that pigskin flew like you wouldn’t believe.  It was going perfect, until… clumsy ox Drew Brees went down with a pulled hamstring on the slippery turf.  And being the helpful chap he is, ‘ol Honest Abe took the reigns and stood in for him as well, changing uniforms as the Colts defensive squad ran out.

He abolished the slaves, and demolished the Colts…


As the clock struck zero, the Big Easy soon was celebrating with the sounds of jazz and firey-cajun food up the wazoo as Abe Lincoln received an early birthday gift- a declaration as Super Bowl MVP.

It was rumored plentiful posterior-ed socialite Kim Kardashian emancipated her relationship with then-Saints running back, Reggie Bush, that night to lock lips with the sixteenth prez.

And how did A-Linc become so good at football? 

Just how you get to Carnegie Hall…  Practice.

Note:  Sadly, Lincoln’s pro-career was cut short the following pre-season when Ravens linebacker John Wilkes Booth broke Lincoln’s legs.

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Enjoy your Super Bowl weekend!  As usual, please Fed-Ex any uneaten chicken wings to me. 

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Filed under Advertising, Comedy, Entertainment, Food, Holiday, Humor, Movies, Music, Pop Culture, Retro, Sports, Television

Want to Spend Super Bowl Week in New Jersey with Me?? Wish Granted.

By Andrew Blumetti

“Wait, what? I’m performing at the Super Bowl!?”

With less than seven days until the biggest of big games approaches, are you still scraping for last-minute plans like Urkel on prom night?  Or maybe you’re a diehard who bleeds Bronco blue and orange?  Or you drink so much Starbucks, your jittery veins just scream out to support Seattle?  Perhaps the marquee clash of Peyton Manning vs. Russell Wilson means 100% diddly squat to you, and you’re just are looking to punish your belt by eating your weight in Buffalo wings?   OR… just maybe you’re looking to spend Super Bowl week 2014 at the epicenter of the pigskinned party action?

Well, no matter what your interest, wonder no longer friends.  Pack your wooliest mittens and your 90’s Starter jackets, you’re coming to Jersey!

cushion-y!

Unless you’re living under a rock (which granted, may be a very nice rock), for the first time in the nearly fifty years of the big game, we are about to experience Super Bowl XLVIII, the first such game played in a cold weather location, in an open stadium.

That stadium is called MetLife Stadium.

That stadium, MetLife Stadium, is located in East Rutherford, NJ.

That stadium, MetLife Stadium, located in East Rutherford, NJ, just so happens to be less than ten minutes from my house.

Don’t let the gigantic Pepsi tent fool you, that’s the greatest 1.5 billion dollar spaceship-y looking stadium money can buy!

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Which means…

A.  The entire surrounding area has been plastered with these banners for the past month.  Literally, everywhere.  I think there’s one on my back. 

B.  Traffic is more trafficy, even by this area’s high traffic standards.  Also, traffic. 

and…

C.  Everyone and their grandmother is making a sweet, sweet buck off this game.  From parties, endless merchandise, themed events, and even renting out spare rooms to out-of-state visitors. 

So, of course, when in Rome…

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Attention football lovers, haters, and the indifferent!  I happily present to you, an offer, make that the offer of a lifetime!  (Well, technically, I guess that’s kinda true)  It’s time for…

BLUMES’S SUPER BOWL WEEK EXTRA-EXTRAVAGANZA!

Yes, you’ve Q-Tipped your ears thoroughly and heard that last statement correctly.  Leave your most-likely warmer climate, trek on over to the East Coast, kick back and stay for a spell in the Garden State, and you can spend this upcoming week with me in high style!

Included in this relatively glorious package is:

  • A one-of-a-kind tour of the local area, including, but not limited to:  the icy parking lot of MetLife Stadium, the numerous ceiling-high supermarket towers of Pepsi cases, and insider hotspots, guided by yours truly.  Included will be such insightful and highly riveting commentary as:

“Hey, that’s the cemetery where Joey Ramone is buried!”

“Oh look, that’s the supermarket parking lot where my car battery died last month!”

“See that place?  Their pizza is sooooooo good!  Well, only if you go on Wednesday nights.”

“Can you wait in the car for a second?  I gotta go to the ATM.”

“That Chinese place used to be a Sam Goody!   That’s where I bought Significant Other by Limp Bizkit!”

“Hey! Leave me outta this!”

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  • Use of my brand new super-soft The Walking Dead throw blanket:
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Practice your best “CARL!!!!” impression while snuggled under this bad boy.

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  • The remainder of however many of these Reese’s Pieces are left that I bought the other night:  (Note: it will probably be none)
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They’re not just for E.T. anymore!

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  •  I will cook you any meal of your choosing from this book:
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Advice: I’m in the mood for burgers, pick them!

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  • Did someone say LOST marathon?!?
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“We have to go back!”

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  • Don’t ask me how, but I managed to get my hands on the best songs of R.E.M.!  And I don’t even know anyone!  Talk about a score!  Prepare to be Michael Stipe-d out…
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Together, we will find out what the frequency is.

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  • Massive!  Snowball!  Fight! 

If you aim correctly, you can hit Snooki in the head!

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So, let’s get down to business…

How much would you pay for this truly unique, and only mildly crappy experience in the chilly Tri-State tundra for this history-making Super Bowl?  $2,000??   $3,000??   Did you say $4,000?!?

Well, if you’re willing to pay that much, how’s $5,000 sound?  I could really use the cash.

I gladly accept cash, check, money orders, or bags of loose change if need be.  Don’t let this opportunity pass you by.  Together, we can put the super in Super Bowl!   Or the owl… either way.

See you then!

“What a deal! …a bad deal!”

(…and act fast!  I just ate four more of those Reese’s Pieces.)

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Filed under Comedy, Entertainment, Food, Holiday, Humor, Pop Culture, Sports

Tricks and Treats and Booklets of Satanists Sacrificing Cats… Oh the Things You’ll Get on Halloween Night.

By Andrew Blumetti

Yes, that classic old story again.

So, it’s November (or as I call it, “Not October”) and alas, Halloween is sadly over.

Back when he donned the eclipse-causing high hair and rat’s-nest-mullet like a first-rate 80’s champ, Jon Bon Jovi may have semi-eloquently declared, “Never say goodbye.”, but Jon, you schmaltzy-optomistic nut, the calendar says we have to.

Oh, don’t worry Bon Jovi, I’m just TEASING you…

Don’t get me wrong, Christmastime has this indescribable feel of childlike wonderment, whimsy, and snow-filled magic, and I cannot wait for the smell of freshly cut evergreens, peppermint and Nat King Cole’s gravely pipes belting out beloved yuletide carols while I spend 45-minutes searching for a parking spot outside Best Buy just to have to deal with the brainless derelicts inside.   Nonetheless, Halloween still holds a special place in my heart which is difficult to recreate no matter how many times I watch Rudolph gleefully reach for the heavens after dreamy doe, Clarice, says that she thinks he’s cute.

I love working on my lawn display, frequenting crowded haunted houses with fellow-ghoul lovin’ friends, and browsing Halloween stores complete with massive lines of shoppers snaking out the door.  And even though the 160+ candy-hungry trick-or-treaters didn’t leave me with an ounce of sugary junk to snack on, it was still a blast and a half.

…but much like that rascally ragamuffin Gary Coleman taught us—  different folks, different strokes…

“What’chu talkin’ ’bout Blumes?”

History Time:

My neighborhood, a small and quiet tree-filled suburb in Northern New Jersey is a safe and delightfully boring little town that has not just one, but two CVS’s and now two 7-11’s.  I’ve had the same neighbors since I can remember, the parking is ample, the lawns are lush and green in the summertime, and everywhere you look, a playful bunny is hopping around freshly-planted vegetable gardens like a delightful children’s book with a well-worn spine.

With a few exceptions, we’ve had very little changeover in the neighbor roll-call over the years–  most of the families are longtime residents who’ve now had their children grow up here and start adorable families of their own.

And I suppose with that kind of boring consistency, you don’t really get around to greeting the new folks as fast as you should when they actually do move in.

Mr. Rogers would be so disappointed in me.  That’s not very neighborly after all. You should really take a few minutes to welcome your neighbor, because who knows?  They could be Kate Upton, they could be your new best friend, or maybe, just maybe, you may want to keep an eye on them cause they could be just a bit odd.

But hey, who amongst us isn’t a little bit?

“Sorry Blumes, maybe next time.”

Well, that fickle little needle on the odd scale went from “a bit” to “Holy crow, it’s Christopher Walken after a dozen Mountain Dews” this past Thursday, October 31st.

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It was an unseasonably mild and relatively overcast Halloween afternoon. The breeze was nearly non-existent, and the weak late-October sun had given the ‘ol college try attempting to dry up the shallow puddles of collected rain that had fallen earlier in the morning.  After the schools were dismissed, my nephew and niece were in the area to do some trick-or-treating with my family to the local neighbors’ houses while I manned the door at home.  As it usually goes with the kiddies, excited spirits and happy feet soon turned to exhausted spirits and fatigued feet, as the joy of a spooktastic day soon began to show its age.  They returned home, and being the generous and giving uncle I am, I volunteered to help “sort out the candy”, which in layman’s terms, means “vulture-pick the kids’ freshly-earned candy stash”.

After laying down some immediate damage to a bag of Reese’s Pieces, I looked down, where amongst the crinkly piles of Butterfinger and gummy bear wrappers, we saw this staring back at us…

Holy moly on toast with jelly, what is this we have here?

My taste buds did a backflip cause- hey, isn’t that one of those Wendy’s coupon books for ten free Frosty ice cream treats?  Oh glorious day!

But no, this find should not be so sweet.

One peek inside, and we were greeting with lecturing, the cornerstone of any fun-filled Halloween.  Which is kind of an odd choice, considering we decided to give out Cheetos, M&M’s and Swedish Fish.

Now, for the record, I don’t have any problem with any kind of religion whatsoever.  My family is Catholic, and whatever floats your boat is cool with me.  I couldn’t care less if someone’s Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or if they pray to photos of Sofia Vergara’s bowling ball-shaped kid from Modern Family.

“BLOOOOMS, don’t you make the jokes on your BLOGGG about HEEEMM!”

All sensitivity aside, and with that being said, this beaut was too unsettling and gaul-darn hilarious to not share with the world, cause man alive, we apparently have some new neighbors who are borderline bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

This is still better than finding Mary Janes in your bag though…

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You may come home, tired from a long night of trick-or-treating, dump out that heavy bag full of sugary candy on the floor and count seven Milky Ways, five Snickers bars and a couple of Dubble Bubbles, but really, how many preachy books of cats about to be sliced up on a pentagrammed-alter do you have?

Not enough, right?

Now I know why there’s no cats around the neighborhood.  …and less cats means more mice… which means LESS CHEESE!!!!   Now they’ve gone too far…

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Twick or tweet! (apparently Satan is on Twitter now)

Just remember, Halloween’s no joke kids.

…except for this one:

-Why did the ghost go to the bar?

For the “boos”.

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Common sense would tell you, being the devil, you wouldn’t need a scary costume, cause ya know, you’re the evilest thing in existence, and the culmination of all the world’s hatred, malevolence, and terror.  Heck, people shell out a pretty penny just to dress like you on Halloween.

…but hey, that Party City coupon for that killer spooky pumpkin costume was just too good to resist.

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Bad news:  Human sacrifices will increase, so you’ll most likely be hacked to bits by guys in scratchy-looking cloaks who moonlight as roadies for Zakk Wylde.

Good news:  You won’t have to sit through another season of The Neighbors.

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Did you know?:  Witchcraft is “exploding” among teens today?  Looks like Bieber Fever is quickly being replaced with “witch itch”.

Blumes note:  Don’t mind that sour drawing of John Favreau.   He’s just bummed cause he blew a first-round pick on Ray Rice for his fantasy football team this year.

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Oh Satan you soulpatched-silly goose, the last time I trusted you, you pranked me by unscrewing the cap on the salt shaker.

Ruined my dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets…

More like TERROR-dactyl!

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Filed under Books, Comedy, Food, Halloween, Humor

Ladies and Gentlemen: The Worst Menu in America

By Andrew Blumetti

The taste buds of this great nation are as diverse as its many people.

The deep-fried South will give you finger-lickin’ barbecue that’s second to none, steamy Texas is where it’s at for a sizzling slab of seared steer, Maryland’s the place to go for mouth-watering soft-shell crab, head to New Mexico for delicious food with a peppery-Southwestern flair, and ciao! you can’t beat the Big Apple for the best steaming hot pizza around.

However, one thing that is a constant is in this bustling 21st Century world is not everyone has time to spend precious hours preparing a piping-hot homemade meal anymore.  Modern life is life on speed, it’s just too darned busy sometimes, and it’s only increased the amount of new restaurants and take-out that pop up on every single corner, every single day.  All too often, time (or lack thereof) calls for ease to take precedence.  Granted, it’s not the way your sweet, wrinkly granny would’ve done it, but then again, she didn’t spend all day on Instagram and watching DVD marathons of Girls .

Going hand-in-hand with this influx and popularity of restaurants are the amount of pre-folded take-out menus that are feverishly stuffed into your mailbox.  Sure, they come in handy, but let’s be honest– most of the time, they just collect dust till they eventually reach menu heaven.

(Now, cue sentimental background music…)

I come from a small suburban town in northern New Jersey located roughly 20 minutes outside New York City.  It’s not a flashy or busy place, it’s a square mile, consisting of 15,000 people, and essentially our one claim to fame is that a dumpy little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria called, “Pizzaland”, appeared for an instant on the opening credits for The Sopranos every week during the series’ run.

A small suburb is a double-edged sword– the security of living in a safe, small town also brings along a bit of boredom with it.  While not much exciting happens here, I can just thank the take-out gods that the most amusingly bad print-job for a take-out menu was done by an Italian/Mexican (a more truly organic combination has never existed) joint called “Michael’s”.

…and wouldn’t you know, Michael’s (now closed) was also located in my hometown.

Even luckier, I didn’t toss this piece of comedy gold out in the garbage when it was stuffed in my mailbox.  Here’s some photos I snapped.

Now go throw out your brain cells, it’s The Worst Menu in America:

(Sadly, none of these pictures have been altered in any way.)

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Well, maybe that opening was a bit harsh. They did work pretty hard there.  They even stayed open to the ungodly hour of 13 PM.

– Gordon Ramsay says, “PURE RUBBISH!!!”

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With this lack of enthusiasm, no wonder the place went under:

Gordon Ramsay says, “UTTERLY UNINSPIRED.”

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Mmmmm, Snooki’s favorite, “Pasta with Italy”…

Gordon Ramsay says, “$@&!ING STUPID!”

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For those of you who enjoy your soup a bit more unusual, you’re crap outta luck…

– Gordon Ramsay says, “PITIFUL.  SIMPLY PITIFUL.”

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Close your eyes and make a wish, a sandwish…

Gordon Ramsay says, “I’VE CRAPPED OUT BETTER THINGS THAN THAT!”

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Raise your hand if this is making your mouth water as much as mine…

– Gordon Ramsay says, “C’MON!  $#@!ING HOGWASH!”

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Tussle that lovable scamp’s hair!

– Gordon Ramsay says, “I’M GONNA VOMIT, THEN PUT THAT ON THIS MENU! …AND IT WILL BE THE BEST THING ON THERE!”

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You haven’t lived till you’ve tasted beef tangue, broked pork, salled beer, and Mexicans!

– Gordon Ramsay says, “BLOODY CRAP!”

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Usually you “buy one and get one free”, but Michael’s catered to a more aggressive crowd…

Gordon Ramsay says, “YOU’VE GOT TO BE $@#!ING KIDDING ME.”

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It’s a little known fact that Forrest Gump used all evil shrimp in his Bubba Gump dishes…

– Gordon Ramsay says, “WHY AM I ON THIS STUPID BLOG ANYWAY?!?”

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