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Seth Rogan likely has enough salted away, to not need a cheque every Christmas, but he'll have one now. There is nothing here to assail your "fear of good taste", there isn't much. If your humour is invested in the notion that male "raison de être" is their ability to be 22, a low functioning 22 until they're 45, or so. This romp is affirmation. There are funny moments, because you were, are or going to be 22, and being a duffus relates. The acting is OK, but it's just another stoner, lowest form of verbal communication, crisis what crisis trip, lightly sprinkled with ugly sweaters and tinsel. Totally ephemeral, except for very few, then a pretty good annual payday.
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Great review, and you'll be happy to know that you can see a "pro-feminist" (anything you can do I can do better) version of the same thing in this week's Christmas spectacle SISTERS.