Pop open a few bottles of Rubinoff this Sunday, because you’re gonna need them. ALL OF THEM. Yes, the Grammys are airing again on CBS, so you can expect the same level of entertainment you’ve come to expect from the network that brings you Two and a Half Men and 2 Broke Girls. And by that I mean the same quality entertainment you get when you take a dump and look at it after.
This year, “Music’s Biggest Night” is hosted by the ever-relevant LL Cool J. What, was Doug E. Fresh not available to host this mess? While I know I’ll probably wander away to my nearest Acapulco about 20 minutes into the show, here are the rules for all of you playing at home.
Take a drink:
- To Katy Perry’s boobs
- Someone is at the Grammys who does not belong at the Grammys
- To Taylor Swift’s squinty-eyed bullshit “aww shucks” false humility
- When an artist is placed in the wrong category, ie an established artist in Best New Artist, pop group in Best Alternative, etc.
- A presenter is wasted
- Rihanna is trying too hard
- "I had no idea ______ was still making music!"
- Frank Ocean wins an award. Hahaha fuck you, Chris Brown!
- Someone is still trying to make dubstep happen
- This speech is BORING
- Someone makes a groan-worthy “Call Me Maybe” joke
- A performer digs up an elderly legend for a cameo; it is underwhelming
Take a shot:
- Mumford & Sons are all wearing vests
- A backup dancer accidentally exposes a glimmer of taint
- If Fiona Apple wins for “The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than The Driver Of The Screw And Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do.” It’s ramblin’ crazy time!
Chug wine and do a little dance:
- The lead singer of Fun loses his voice. Oh a girl can dream!
- It’s the return of Soy Bomb! Again, a girl can dream…