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Ashton Kutcher hosts SNL; or, I Wish I Could Have Kept on Forgetting

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Oh, you guys. I was thinking that the Ashton Kutcher/Gnarls Barkley SNL was next weekend, so I went about my usual Sunday and up-until-now-on Monday business, ignorant of my lack of recap duties. Thanks to Tivo, however, everything is ok—I am home from work, have posted the obligatory shoe picture, have rotated all the coasters on the coffee table precisely 40 degrees clockwise, and am ready to roll! (Note: OCD tendencies exaggerated for effect)

So, Ashton Kutcher. I am not among the population of Women of a Certain Age who find him terribly dreamy; in fact, until recently, I have found him pretty annoying and basically repellent. Anyone seen Punk’d? Yeah, me too. Hated every freaking second of it. Seriously, I would rather have had bamboo shoots slid underneath my fingernails than watch his lame ass pop into the frame, screaming at some celebrity or other. Luckily, the days of both the production and airing of Punk’d (I will kindly ignore the egregious misspelling of the title, I think it’s supposed to be “hip” or something. Who knows, with the kids these days) have ceased, and Mr. Kutcher has married Demi Moore and they lead a quiet, Kabbalah-centered life in which he takes short breaks to tell Elle about the sex conversations they have with Demi’s children. Gross. And while he had his moments on That 70’s Show, I was always much more of a fan of Topher Grace and the guy who played Red, than I was of Kelso. The point here is, I am scared, terrified of what Ashton will end up doing to/on SNL. I am hoping for a Target Lady sketch, and I am afraid the days of Deep House Dish have passed (which makes me sad, because “Ooh wee, T’Shane!” had become one of the favorite catchphrases of the GP/MS household, mainly the MS part). Let’s see what you’ve got, Ashton Kutcher.

Cold open: C-SPAN upcoming programming includes “Think-Tank Nerds discuss some topic no one cares about,” followed by “questions from even nerdier audience members.” Sounds like a winner. Please let there be some Ashton Kutcher in glasses! Because you know that that means he’s a nerd. Ok, so it’s the testimony of David Petraeus, played by Will Forte. I believe the French (and my ever-profane father) would call this a “clusterfuck.” Petraeus and MCain (Darrell Hammond) talk about the “goals” that have been “met” in Iraq, and it’s more depressing than funny—especially given the actual “progress” that’s happened. Amy P. as Hillary C. lies that she opposed the war from the beginning, and even since 1970, and I cry a little inside and think of Tuzla. Oh, and for all interested parties, the Iraqi National Museum of Antiquities will remain in Iraq, not moved to Wheeling, West Virginia, where there is ample parking and an Applebee’s. Petraeus gets a little starstruck by Obama, who will be the next president (I know, right?)—Fred Armisen’s impression leaves me a little cold, because he has the cadence and everything down right, but something about the accent is off. I am as bored by this sketch as I am by regular C-SPAN.

Enter Ashton, doing some air guitar in a way that makes me want to dry-gulch him. Hard. He is wearing a scarf, and it’s his third time hosting SNL?!?! What. The. Hell. Well, I do love me some Beauty and the Geek. He’s talking about producing, and it is now my dream that Lorne Michaels comes out and gives him a wet willie. It doesn’t happen. Demi Moore shows up instead, and why isn’t she hosting? I would prefer that, I think. The writers won’t let him in—let me say again that I am in hardcore l-o-v-e with the SNL writing staff. Haha, the “joke” is that everyone hates Ashton Kutcher. That is hilarious. I fake-fake hate him, too! The funniest part of this “monologue” is when Andy Samberg asks Kenan Thompson if he has any weed (a staple of good comedy), to which Kenan responds that he might, after the “light [in the camera] goes off.” Best part, mostly because Ashton Kutcher wasn’t present—GP, who is “working” on his thesis, agrees.

There is some bullshit movie coming out with Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher, which I imagine is a pure distillation of all my most-hated celebrities in film form. If only it were created by the writers of such gems as White Chicks, the Scary Movie franchise, and [Insert Random Genre Here] Movie franchise. Can you believe the same guys did all that? I mean, the “Let’s put together some marginally humorous lines from other successful movies and call it a parody! Is Carmen Electra available? Who am I kidding, she always is…” school of film writing and directing is what’s keeping our kids addicted to drugs, I’m fairly sure. (Sorry for the vitriol—my blood is just all angried up now)

The Cougar Den. Hmm, I wonder if this is where we will see Demi Moore. I will vote “yes.” There is a lot of age-inappropriate clothing, on Deirdre (Amy P.), Jacqeline (Kristen W.), and Toni (Casey W.) as they talk about seeing shitty movies with their young boyfriends, followed by “blowjoys” (“It’s certainly not a job!” Gross). Kiki DiAmore, who is fucking goddamn Cameron Diaz with her big stupid mouth and complete lack of talent shows up, wearing a curious blend of animal prints, and shaking her stupid, skinny, no-hipped ass. I scream. Seriously, you guys, I screamed in the study. It was inappropriate study behavior, but I had to do it. I need warning if she’s going to be on my television. I gather my strength to get through the rest of the sketch…Cameron D. has a Charo accent and some enormous bra inserts. The “breasts” outperform her. Girl, I have seen Charo on The Surreal Life, and you are no Charo. Charo would cuchi-cuchi you into oblivion. Also, let it be known that you can do Kegels while talking—no break necessary! I could be doing them now, you’d never know. Ashton blands around in some tennis whites and a headband…and it is an express, one-way ticket to Lametown.

May 10th, Shia LaBoeuf and My Morning Jacket. I love me some LaBoeuf, and have never heard of the band. You guys are pretty hip—what do we know about them?

Cowboy Ashton, who I would at least like to make “dance” by shooting at the ground near his feet (too mean? I submit that it is not!), brings us into a sketch where Kenan is the bouncer at a velvet-rope club that I swear is either called “Tat City” or “Fat City.” Please, please let it be Fat City! Kenan is hesitant to let Ashton (playing himself, really showing his comic range) into the club. Various lamewads are let in, and Ashton is not, despite name-dropping himself. In principle, I love this sketch. There was too much Kutcher, though.

The Andy Samberg Love Machine (here, as Clementine) brings us “Daquiri Girl,” a charming tune that has a text scroll in the foreground about how there was a major musician signed up to do a new Digital Short, and bailed. Whatever, I give “Daquiri Girl” a solid C+.

Activia Yogurt Lady (Amy P.) and Ashton Kutcher are excited to meet Jamie Lee Curtis, who is crazy about Activia yogurt. They are all very jokey about JLC keeping her top on, and I am here to tell you that we do not need to see any naked older ladies around here. Also, this is ostensibly a commercial about a yogurt that makes you poo. Neeeeext.

Gnarls Barkley. Bleep-bloop. I dig your rockabilly hair, Cee-Lo. Also, Danger Mouse on piano? Holla!

Weekend Update! Yay! Rumsfeld gave the Bush Administration a “List of Horribles,” which they have succeeded brilliantly in…accomplishing. American Airlines cancelled a shitload of flights, but luckily not the one that my friends had to be on for a wedding in OKC this weekend (that second part is not reported, however). Tips on air travel from Kristen Wiig as Judy Grimes—we learn that she is probably on some above-therapeutic level of uppers, and is also “just kidding.” It is not very funny. NYPD will be steroid testing, High School Musical 4 is in the works, and Charlton Heston is dead. Nicholas Fehn appears for some political “comedy,” which is quite reminiscent of the FREE! COMEDY! SHOWS! that happened every Monday night at a bar near the UCLA campus. The headliner was often the bang-your-head-against-a-wall, smash-your-pinky-toe-with-a-hammer, completely unfunny Godfrey. That is all you need to know.

Ashton Kutcher…giving a piggyback ride to himself, leads into the Dudes Meeting Up in a Bar For Some Domestic Beer. The jukebox plays “Amy,” they share varying degrees of humorous anecdotes, then bust out with some sweet Village People costumes when “YMCA” comes on.

A chocolate bar sneaks up on a bum who is digging through the trash, then stabs him and runs away. “Death by Chocolate.” I am…scared? Confused? Not. Laughing.

The Mellow Show
, with our host Jack Johnson (of course it is Andy Samberg, with bare feet, a douchey man-necklace, and an acoustic guitar) from the sunny shores of Oahu. Dave Matthews (Bill Heder) shows up, and they talk mellow stuff for awhile, each with a stranger speaking voice than the other. John Mayer (Ashton) arrives, and they poorly harmonize “introducing ourselves” pretty poorly. Can I please point out here that pot-smoking does not a mellow guy or gal make? Because some people do flip the hell out when they have puffed the magic dragon. Just sayin’.

More Death by Chocolate. Do. Not. Want.

More Gnarls Barkley. I am not in touch with What the Kids Like.

More Western wear from Ashton Kutcher, and we are at The Rusty Pony, which is a gross name for a strip club. The Gilded Lily, maybe? That sounds so nice and exotic and feminine! When I open the Gilded Lily, all real-friend and blog-friend lapdances will be half off—those poor girls have to make a living somehow! Drinks will be on me, though. Grown men, drinking shots of Jager? Mmm, maybe not. Oh, and also, it turns out The Rusty Pony is a. A quadriplegic young lady comes out and is assisted with her erotic dance routine—it seems opera-length gloves are hard to remove when one can’t move one’s arms or legs. Also, do strippers always do a running commentary? This does not even count as Dirty Talk. Rhinestone bustiers and a fringed jumpsuit make this sketch a candidate for the Best of the Episode.

Bearded Andy looks for his chainsaw, and we see what is hopefully the end of Death By Chocolate.

Sweet Jesus, it’s over. I’ll see you in a few weeks, where I am hoping we will get to see a redux of Even Stevens. Woo, original Disney programming!

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About Megan

I read, I write, I drink wine while watching way too much tv. Let's be friends.

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