Should I Turn Gay For A Free Gym Membership?

Okay, so it’s Thursday and I can’t lie, I’m struggling to find something to write about. As I always say, I’m not BuzzFeed. I don’t do the clickbait thing. Rather than posting “What Bagel Are You?” quizzes (I got cinnamon raisin by the way, which is wildly accurate) or regurgitating Tweets into a WordPress doc, I try to give you daily content you won’t find anywhere else, even if that content sucks.

Okay, so it’s Thursday and I can’t lie, I’m struggling to find something to write about. As I always say, I’m not BuzzFeed. I don’t do the clickbait thing. Rather than posting “What Bagel Are You?” quizzes (I got cinnamon raisin by the way, which is wildly accurate) or regurgitating Tweets into a WordPress doc, I try to give you daily content you won’t find anywhere else, even if that content sucks.

With that said, I’m caught between a rock and a hard place right now and I don’t know what to do. For those unfamiliar, I’m a world-class athlete, which is why I work out at Planet Fitness; for those even more unfamiliar, Planet Fitness is the purple gym that dishes out slabs of pizza once a month.

Anyway, I routinely head to the one in my town to split treadmills in half, but yesterday, I was crunched for time. Did I resolve to miss a gym day? Of course not. Why? Because I’m a savage. I move plates for sport; therefore, I capitalized on my PF Black Card—a card you can buy that allows you to attend/use any one of Planet Fitness’ 500,0000,000 locations.

On my way home from work, I pulled into one of those different locations and meandered to the locker room. First things first, I’ve discussed this in the past and my opinions on gym locker rooms are well documented but what the hell is up with this infatuation with walking around naked?

I understand it’s called a locker room, but I also understand there are things called towels. When I turned the corner to use the urinal, I was blasted in the face by the visual of some decrepit, wrinkly-assed baby boomer shaving his neck completely naked in front of the sink.

First of all, does this guy not have a fucking bathroom? Second of all, this dude was pushing 80-years-old. I can understand if you’re in a pinch on your way to work and need to clean up the 5 o’clock shadow, but there’s no chance this guy isn’t sitting on pension money at this point. In other words, clearly he has nothing to do that day—as evident by the fact I saw him casually having a conversation an hour later in the same locker room after my workout—so why is a shave (and on that note, the shower) necessary while you’re at the gym? You heading to a job interview, bro?

Anyway, I use the urinal and open my Spotify app. On my way out, I was attempting to connect my headphones to bluetooth when I accidentally bumped into some dude. Normally this results in a simple “my bad, man” and that’s it; however, in this particular situation, things went downhill fast.

What I mean by that is when I bumped into him, my right hand—which, at the time, was operating my iPhone—gently grazed his bare ass. For the record, there’s NOTHING you can say in a situation like that to diffuse the awkwardness, but as always, I had to make an attempt.

I suddenly uttered something to the extent of “my bad dude,” but then made the tell-tale mistake of stopping/attempting to explain myself. I’m not sure what came out of my mouth in that moment but I can defiantly contend it made little to no sense. The entire locker room (basically three people, including shave guy) just looked at me in unison. It was one of those scratched record moments like you read about.

After causing the scene, I darted out and navigated to the closest treadmill in an attempt to sweat out the repugnant stench of awkward I had just flooded the locker room with. Suddenly, out of my left peripheral, I see the dude who I sexually assaulted near the water bubbler and experienced that sensation you only get when you just know someone’s staring at you from a distance… and he was.

Now, I know some people will get offended by this comment because it suggests I was “assuming” things but this dude was Gay. Flat out. No questions asked. He just was. Nothing wrong with that, but I’m not about to go into detail about how I knew. Let’s just say he was sporting this incredibly tight, almost singlet-looking thing that looked like it was ripped out of a 1990s Richard Simmons’ workout VHS tape and the proof was in the pudding…

Anyway, I had that “someone’s staring at me” feeling for a solid 15 minutes before this dude decided to jump aboard the treadmill right next to me, even though the place was empty. From there, he started making small talk, forcing me to remove my headphones on 2-3 occasions.

Long story short, I ended up migrating treadmills, and on my way out, I saw this guy again and he was working at the front desk.

In other words, there’s a shot this dude could get me a free membership (a $20/month value), which begs the question: should I go down on this guy for a free Black Card? Is it worth the risk? On one hand, I’m not gay; on the other hand, $20 a month adds up; on the third hand, there’s probably some sort of corporate blockade that would prevent him from allowing such an action to occur, in which case would mean I just blew a dude for no reason; and on the fourth and final hand, maybe this dude just isn’t gay at all…

I don’t know though man, is it worth the risk?

Disclaimer: I’m just scraping the bottom of the barrel for content today. This is what blog dedication looks like. Thank me for my service…

With that said, I’m caught between a rock and a hard place right now and I don’t know what to do. For those unfamiliar, I’m a world-class athlete, which is why I work out at Planet Fitness; for those even more unfamiliar, Planet Fitness is the purple gym that dishes out slabs of pizza once a month.

Anyway, I routinely head to the one in my town to split treadmills in half, but yesterday, I was crunched for time. Did I resolve to miss a gym day? Of course not. Why? Because I’m a savage. I move plates for sport; therefore, I capitalized on my PF Black Card—a card you can buy that allows you to attend/use any one of Planet Fitness’ 500,0000,000 locations.

On my way home from work, I pulled into one of those different locations and meandered to the locker room. First things first, I’ve discussed this in the past and my opinions on gym locker rooms are well documented but what the hell is up with this infatuation with walking around naked?

I understand it’s called a locker room, but I also understand there are things called towels. When I turned the corner to use the urinal, I was blasted in the face by the visual of some decrepit, wrinkly-assed baby boomer shaving his neck completely naked in front of the sink.

First of all, does this guy not have a fucking bathroom? Second of all, this dude was pushing 80-years-old. I can understand if you’re in a pinch on your way to work and need to clean up the 5 o’clock shadow, but there’s no chance this guy isn’t sitting on pension money at this point. In other words, clearly he has nothing to do that day—as evident by the fact I saw him casually having a conversation an hour later in the same locker room after my workout—so why is a shave (and on that note, the shower) necessary while you’re at the gym? You heading to a job interview, bro?

Anyway, I use the urinal and open my Spotify app. On my way out, I was attempting to connect my headphones to bluetooth when I accidentally bumped into some dude. Normally this results in a simple “my bad, man” and that’s it; however, in this particular situation, things went downhill fast.

What I mean by that is when I bumped into him, my right hand—which, at the time, was operating my iPhone—gently grazed his bare ass. For the record, there’s NOTHING you can say in a situation like that to diffuse the awkwardness, but as always, I had to make an attempt.

I suddenly uttered something to the extent of “my bad dude,” but then made the tell-tale mistake of stopping/attempting to explain myself. I’m not sure what came out of my mouth in that moment but I can defiantly contend it made little to no sense. The entire locker room (basically three people, including shave guy) just looked at me in unison. It was one of those scratched record moments like you read about.

After causing the scene, I darted out and navigated to the closest treadmill in an attempt to sweat out the repugnant stench of awkward I had just flooded the locker room with. Suddenly, out of my left peripheral, I see the dude who I sexually assaulted near the water bubbler and experienced that sensation you only get when you just know someone’s staring at you from a distance… and he was.

Now, I know some people will get offended by this comment because it suggests I was “assuming” things but this dude was Gay. Flat out. No questions asked. He just was. Nothing wrong with that, but I’m not about to go into detail about how I knew. Let’s just say he was sporting this incredibly tight, almost singlet-looking thing that looked like it was ripped out of a 1990s Richard Simmons’ workoutVHS and the proof was in the pudding…

Anyway, I had that “someone’s staring at me” feeling for a solid 15 minutes before this dude decided to jump aboard the treadmill right next to me, even though the place was empty. From there, he started making small talk, forcing me to remove my headphones on 2-3 occasions.

Long story short, I ended up migrating treadmills, and on my way out, I saw this guy again and he was working at the front desk. In other words, there’s a shot this dude could get me a free membership (a $20/month value), which begs the question: should I go down on this guy for a free Black Card? Is it worth the risk? On one hand, I’m not gay; on the other hand, $20 a month adds up; and on the third hand, there’s probably some sort of corporate blockade that would prevent him from allowing such an action to occur, in which case would mean I just blew a dude for no reason.

I don’t know though man, is it worth the risk?

Disclaimer: I’m just scraping the bottom of the barrel for content today. This is what blog dedication looks like. Thank me for my service…

– Joey Boats (@joey_boats)

Breaking Down Armie Hammer’s White Privilege…

Okay, so normally I try not to get political on the blog, therefore, a lot of my dribble treads lightly. I refuse to speak on behalf of Branded’s higher-ups, but it’s my opinion that sites like this exist as a source of relief from the politically divisive landscape of contemporary “journalism.” That said, we NEED to talk about this dude Armie Hammer right now…

For those unfamiliar, Armie Hammer is an American actor most known for his voice acting role from Cars 3 (Pixar’s crowning cinematic achievement), as well as The Social Network, which is a 2010 movie that follows the life and times of Rus Yusopov as he became the co-founder of Vine—the since deceased short-form video hosting service.

More importantly though, Hammer is a straight White male, and recently, he sat down with the British online newspaper, The Independent, to discuss his wretched condition. The piece is an absolute MUST READ and, throughout the interview, Hammer manages to cultivate opinions that range from brilliant to ambiguous to downright brilliant, forcing me to evaluate in a more intricate fashion.

Below I will list a number of Hammer quotes and break them down for easier consumption…

“How do straight white men,” he begins, “react to other straight white men who are no longer acting how they believe straight white men should act?”

Out of the gate, the first problematic thing I noticed is that Hammer is actively acknowledging his ethnicity, which is downright deplorable to those of us who don’t see color. Simply put, I self identify as someone who doesn’t self identify as someone who sees, nor assumes, color. In my opinion, until Hammer can endorse the discoloration/translucence of our society, he should just shut up and check his privilege at whatever that hinged barrier at the entrance of the room self identifies as.

“If you see a straight white man not acting like that, not assuming his privilege, in a way, it’s very threatening to your straight white maleness… But at the end of the day, what is straight white maleness if not threatening to everyone else who is not a straight white man? If you stop assuming your privilege, the only people you harm are the people who are actively taking advantage of it.”

For those who are confused by this contention, you’re not alone. The world is chock full of bigoted pieces of shit so just consider yourself part of the overwhelming majority. When it comes down to it, all Armie is saying here is that assuming your White privilege is wrong; however, not assuming it is only harmful to those who are assuming it, which I think is good, but I’m not entirely sure. Translation: fuck you…

“Yeah, I mean there’s things all the time that I catch myself doing. Case in point, sitting here with my feet on the table,” he says, suddenly offended by himself. “I mean like, I’m just being comfortable and relaxed, but like … There are things all the time that I catch myself doing and I think, ‘Wait a second, is this white privilege? Yeah, I think it is. Look at what I’m doing. Yeesh’.” His size 15 feet stay on the table.

“Yeesh” is right. And although Armie’s woke-ometer is on high alert, there’s no excuse for his actions. As a sexually ambiguous, nonbinary discolored entity, I would love to kick my feet up on a table every once in awhile, but therein lies the problem: We can ignore it all we want but there are swaths of this population who meander through life without the privilege of legs, feet, or even access to tables. Not to mention, Armie self identifies his feet as “size 15,” and you know what they say about that—the bigger the size of the foot, the more entitled that individual is to the amount of leather they need in order to fulfill their footwear necessities.

“That being said,” he adds, “the conversation is different now. People are asking, should straight actors take LGBTQA roles? I don’t know. I’m certainly not the authority on that. But we are a much more sensitive and evolved world now than … I mean look, people used to don black face in movies and that was acceptable, and now we say, ‘no, you can’t f**king do that’. And I think that’s right, I completely agree with that, but I don’t know. I guess the answer is – I don’t know.” he concludes, looking a little dismayed.

I don’t know either, dude. There’s a significant part of me that thinks donning black face is wrong, but as Armie says, “I’m not the authority on that.”

“It’s like Schrodinger’s white privilege,” says Elizabeth Chambers’s husband, removing his feet from the table. “Just identifying it makes it something.” 

First off, I want to commend Armie for finally taking his bigoted feet off the God damn table; however, the article mentions he followed that up by placing his feet on the floor, which comes off to me as equally bigoted. I mean, by putting his feet on the floor, Armie is essentially assuming he has the privilege to do so, which is harmful to those who don’t assume their privilege to do so—the same people that that are harmful to those who do assume they have the privilege to do so.

Secondly, and more importantly, Armie indicates that identifying White privilege makes it something, which is interesting because that’s literally the foundation of the entire interview.

So to recap: Armie believes that identifying White privilege makes it something, which propels the concept into existence. By propelling the concept into existence, he is essentially assuming his privilege to do so, which is harmful to those who do not have that privilege, but also harmful to those who do have that privilege and don’t actively assume it because they allow others who do have that privilege to assume it to do so, thereby identifying it as something, thereby assuming that privilege.

I hope you guys learned something today…

Fighting With My Family: Not AT ALL What You’d Expect…

So it’s Tuesday, which means a lot of things. However, none of those things are more important than the discounted, $6 ticket night (formally $5 ticket night before Trump took office smh) at my local theater so I assumed my responsibility as the bargain-hunting degenerate I am and drove through.

As always, I don’t like explaining too much about a movie if it’s based on actual events because it alters the moviegoer experience, so for those of you unfamiliar with the subject matter, I’ll leave you with this: The film follows the story of Sayara Knight (famously known as “Paige”), a member of a tight-knit British wrestling family, as she attempts to capitalize on the opportunity of a lifetime and fulfill her dream of becoming a WWE superstar.

For those keeping score at home, I used to eat, sleep and breath wrestling during the late 90s/early 2000s. I’d spend nights in my basement, imitating the various personalities with couch cushions as landing pads and couch arms as top ropes. I had all the action figures, knew all the catchphrases, and would spend my Tuesday and Friday mornings waking up 4 AM to watch the previous night’s broadcast I taped on VHS before the bus would show up for school.

In other words, if the WWF/WWE was produced in a tangible form, I would’ve found a way to liquefy and inject it into my femoral vein (gross visual but true).

These days, I don’t follow it much; nevertheless, my opinion on the sport remains: if you’re someone who can’t grab a few beers and have fun at a wrestling event, you’re just someone I’ll never want to hang out with.

So yeah, it’s safe to say I was intrigued when I saw they were making a movie concerning the plight of a pro wrestler—something that, outside of 2008’s The Wrestler, hasn’t really been touched upon through the medium of film. The only problem with everything was that the trailer had the WWE logo plastered throughout and I couldn’t help but feel that this was just another corporate cash grab to gain further mainstream notoriety.

Well, I don’t want to reveal my hand too early or anything on this review but… I fucking LOVED it. One of the best comedies of the last decade, right up there with both Jump Streets, Bridesmaids, The Big Sick, and The Other Guys (which may be the most underrated comedy ever, by the way).

And the biggest takeaway from this movie is that you don’t need to share an infatuation with the sport to appreciate what it provides. With a film like Bohemian Rhapsody, you needed to be a fan of the subject matter to really enjoy the film; with Fighting With My Family, all you need is the ticket stub.

A lot of that reason is due to the sharp script of Stephen Merchant, who also served as the film’s director. For those unfamiliar, Merchant was a co-writer/director for the original, BBC version of The Office and that quick-witted, often cringeworthy style of dialogue is what classifies Fighting With My Family as a comedy; however, this film is so much more.

The only spoiler I’ll give concerning this movie is that The Rock is pretty much just a marketing cog. When it’s all said and done, Dwayne Johnson commands roughly 5-10 minutes of total screen time and that’s MORE than fine. Why? Because the rest of the cast proves more than capable of keeping you emotionally engaged.

Most notably, Nick Frost—most people in America know him as “the fat guy” from Shaun of The Dead and Hot Fuzz, both of which I highly suggest—was charming as hell while Jack Lowden (as Zak Knight, Sayara’s brother) gave the film a surprising level of emotional depth.

That said, the most refreshing performance came from the lead, Florence Pugh. I truly believed this film could’ve “worked” with a number of actresses, but for some reason, her casting just seemed “perfect.” It’s a shame this movie premiered when it did because movies in February/March normally tend to get snubbed during award season. I wholeheartedly believe she deserves at least an Oscar nod for this role, if not a win.

With all things considered, I’m not saying this movie is perfect. It’s certainly incredible cliche’. It slams you over the head with your typical underdog, rags-to-riches cinematic tropes but it does it in a remarkably charismatic way. If you love wrestling, you’ll love it; if you don’t, you won’t love it as much but you won’t regret the ticket purchase.

Final Score: 9.4 Boats out of 10

Disclaimer: This is the highest score I’ve given since I’ve been blogging these reviews and it will most likely drop a couple decimal points throughout the year, but as of right now, I’m not changing a thing. LOVED it…

People Who “Don’t Drink To Get Drunk” Are Liars…

So it’s Tuesday and there isn’t much going on in the sports world today. The Super Bowl occurred roughly three weeks ago and, as a Boston sports fan, I’m starting to get championship withdrawals. Luckily, I was scrolling through headlines for something to write about and came across an advertisement worth noting.

The advertisement concerned Natural Light’s new strawberry lemonade-flavored beer that they’re calling “Naturdays,” I guess. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure the only people who drink Natural Light hail from New England (I’ve just never seen it sold anywhere else). Furthermore, I’m pretty sure the only people in New England who drink Natural Light are college students or broke shitheads looking to dilute a raging hangover via the ole’ “hair of the dog” treatment.

Now, please don’t get me wrong: I’m not some douchebag beer enthusiast; in fact, I would go as far as to claim I, more often than not, fall in the latter description I mentioned above. People who drink beer for the “taste” can just screw off. I don’t care about your peacoats or your financial acumen or your imported craft lagers, there’s absolutely ZERO reason to drink beer if you aren’t, at the very least, looking for a buzz.

When I say that, people immediately jump to conclusion that I’m some sort of belligerent alcoholic, but that’s not the case. I realize my personal blog is entitled “The Daily Hangover” but that’s just impeccable branding, and part of the reason I’m a genius.

So yeah, suggesting you only ever drink to get drunk doesn’t make you an alcoholic: it makes you a rational human being. Whenever my friends contend they don’t drink exclusively to get drunk, I always ask why they’re even drinking then, to which they respond they just wanted a beer.

Okay, so why did you want the beer? For the taste? Because if that’s the case, your taste buds are wildly incompetent. I’m not saying beer’s the worst-tasting thing in the world, but after a workout (so when you’re likely the most thirsty), there’s a reason you don’t crush a pounder when you get home. Instead, you grab a grab a 32 oz. Gatorade or something and down the hatchet because Glacier Freeze/Riptide Rush is the choice of kings.

In other words, there are literally THOUSANDS of beverage alternatives exclusively designed for taste purposes and beer isn’t one of them. Let me ask you something? Have you ever tried grain alcohol? Because I have, and it’s absolutely DISGUSTING. With that said, if you want something for the taste, why would you ever select something with even a quarter of that composition involved? I’ll answer that—you wouldn’t, because it doesn’t make any sense.

So to recap: We started this blog talking about Boston sports, then the new Natty Light cans, and now we’re attempting to de-stigmatize the notion of drinking exclusively to get drunk. Got it? Good.

I understand that sometimes people want to have a beer at lunch or something to “loosen up” or generate a minuscule buzz but guess what? That qualifies as drinking to get drunk.

Simply put, I’m someone who drinks protein shakes for the protein, coffee for the caffeine, and booze for, well, the booze. And no, that doesn’t make me a flawed person; on the contrary it makes me right, further proving that I’m a genius and everyone else sucks.

As for these new Natural Light things, I’m almost positive they’re going to absolutely STINK. Either that or they’ll taste similar to Twisted Teas/Smirnoff Ice or something—alcoholic options with enough sugar throughout to bring a diabetic to a Time Tebow-like kneel. I’ll still try em’ though…

Bull Riding Is Nuts…

Okay, so the Oscars were last night and it was a mildly entertaining ride. Every year, there are always a couple surprises and last night, to an extent, was no different. Bohemian Rhapsody claimed their fair share of awards and Green Book—my favorite movie of the year, so the best movie of the year—ended up taking Best Picture. I wrote a full review on Green Book (no spoilers) last week but I need to get to the most important moment of last night…

Bigotry was winning the Oscars last night until it came time to announce the winner for Best Documentary Short. There were five nominees in this category—none of which I saw—but justice was served when Period. End of Sentence. bellowed throughout the sound system at the Dolby Theater. It was a MONUMENTAL night for menstrual equality because that’s evidently a thing. It’s about damn time, which brings me to my next topic: bull riding.

About a week ago, my buddy asked me if I wanted to attend a bull riding event in Western Mass last Saturday and, well, why the fuck not? Whether it’s yoga, vegan restaurants, or Klan rallies, I’m always open to trying new things; therefore, I went and HOLY SHIT was it eye-opening.

Before I get into it, let me make things clear: going to events, in general, suck. I’ll never drive into another event again in my life. It’s train or bust. Between the price of parking—I literally paid more for some concrete structure to babysit my Ford Fiesta than I did to gain access to the DCU Center—to the anxiety of timing when you need to leave in order to beat the traffic back to the highway, it sucks. Not to mention a Bud Light is $11. Give me a break, dude…

Anyway, so I headed into this event with very little knowledge on the sport. The closest I’ve ever been to watching bull riding was on a bachelor trip to Nashville. Evidently, the sport is actually this simple: You jump on a bull, try to stay on said bull for over four seconds, and then you get thrown off… rinse and repeat… for three hours.

Now, I’m not here to completely bash it. I had a fun time at the event actually. There’s just something about southern culture that’s incredibly endearing. It’s a charming atmosphere where people wear cowboy hats, talk “lahk thes,” and actually love our country. In other words, I love the south, but those people don’t give a fuck…

The one thing I couldn’t help but think throughout the entire event was “How is this still legal?” I mean, the NFL has been under INTENSE fire over the past few years with concern to CTE -related lawsuits. There has been a nationally-released movie, constant sports desk dialogue, and roughly 45 million Outside The Lines segments. Not to mention, a lot of football programs are getting shut down due to an inability to properly insure their players.

Understandably, the NFL is an ENTIRELY different monster, but in the end, I don’t see how something like this exists. In other words, to do this whole bull riding thing, you need to have a few screws loose. I mean, I watched an entire season of football and only saw a handful of guys leave that blue ten with a positive diagnosis; all it took was an hour of bull riding to see some dude get his head kicked into Rhode Island by a 2,000 lb. Brahman. Legs were twitching and shit. It was wild.

So yeah, it took me until this paragraph to realize I don’t necessarily have a point or even and argument on anything. This is the type of problem you run into when you’re constantly trying to force genuine content, rather than clickbait so… fuck, I don’t know. See ya tomorrow…?

The Ultimate Joey Boats’ Oscars Betting Preview

Over the last few days, I’ve been dumping reviews on Best Picture nominees all over the place in preparation for what will most likely be an incredibly sub-par Oscar night. Essentially, there are really only 3-4 movies nominated this year that we’ll remember five years from now; nevertheless, I have a job to do, and that job is to give you the low down what to expect heading into the E! Network’s self-fulfilling red carpet coverage.

I don’t have much time to write this blog because I have places to be. Between reorganizing my sock drawer and slaving over whether or not to buy almond milk or regular old 2%, I’m on a time budget. Therefore, I’ll cut straight to the meat and potatoes.

To clarify, below is where I’ll provide you with the award, who will win the award, as well as who should win the award. I won’t be diving into every piece of hardware the academy will be dishing out tonight because no one gives a shit about who the editing genius behind the best foreign short film is. In other words, expect the iron and nothing else…

Best Picture

Who Will Win: Roma
Never saw it but I trust Vegas on this one…
Who Should Win: Father of the Year
In the biggest upset of the night, Father of the Year takes home the night’s biggest honor in a category it was never nominated for. For those unfamiliar, Father of the Year is another straight-to-Netflix production that centers around two college students who make a bet concerning which of their fathers would win in a fight. Obviously, hilarity ensues. It’s essentially a 1.5-hour thrill ride that will ultimately make you question the boundaries of what can be classified as “a movie.”

Best Director

Who Will Win: Alfonso Cuarón, Roma
Once again, I’ve never seen it . That said, I guess it was filmed in black & white and everyone knows that nothing gets the Academy to cream themselves harder than when a film is shot with the highest contrast possible.
Who Should Win: Tyler Spindel, Father of the Year
Once again, jaws hit the floor as Tyler Spindel claims yet another Oscar win for the Happy Madison epic. Throughout the film, Spindel manages a star-studded cast while driving the narrative in a way that will force most Netflix users into questioning whether or not a plot actually exists.

Best Actor

Who Will Win: Rami Malek, Bohemian Rhapsody
Rami Malek shines in his portrayal of Mick Jagger in this Bryan Singer classic. Throughout the 2-hour music video, we watch as Malek completely transforms himself by lip-synching and wearing fake teeth.
Who Should Win: David Spade, Father of the Year
In his best performance since Grownups 2, Spade once again asserts himself as Hollywood’s go-to leading man. You would think that, in a movie featuring an onslaught of big name stars like Nat Faxon and Joey Bragg, Spade would just blend into the forefront, but no. In a nutshell, Spade’s performance is so utterly subversive that, throughout the film, you’ll grabble with the question of whether Father of the Year is even an intentional film.

Best Actress

Who Will Win: Glenn Close, The Wife
As with Roma, I’ve never seen The Wife. To be honest, it sounds like some shitty, long-tenured drama on the USA Network that you see a million commercials for, but have never heard of anyone watching. Turns out, it’s a movie, and a good one at that. Expect her to take home the award tonight.
Who Should Win: David Spade, Father of the Year
Understandably, this selection may raise some feathers but somebody needs to do it. It takes guts in this social climate to come out and suggest a left-leaning political opinion but I truly believe that gender is a spectrum; thus, I can’t morally suggest that Spade shouldn’t win both awards for the acting category. Maybe I’m just a little too woke for the general public on this one but just understand if you disagree with me here, you’re no better than a bigoted Trump supporter. I don’t build walls, I break them down…

So that’s basically it for the big awards. The show starts at 8 PM ET (I think) and I’m sure we’ll all be sitting on the couch with bated breath as Hollywood’s elite flood the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles to narcissistically vomit their sociopolitical agendas. Looking forward to Kevin Hart

P.S. Here’s the trailer for Father of the Year. Click at your own discretion…

– Joey Boats (@joey_boats)