Just checking in:
I felt sad when Slutty died, because she had stopped being a whiny bitch and started being a screwy, I-love-my-baby lunatic. I would’ve enjoyed seeing the latter sleepwalk around Llanview for a while — on top of the ice, not under it.
I thought that was a damn exciting sequence they had, with that six-foot wading pool standing in for a frozen lake. Good work, set designers.
There is someone named Heidi who apparently was on a reality-adjacent series on MTV; I tried to watch an episode, but lacked the endurance. During my viewing period — akin to the amount of time one can stare at an eclipsing sun before the retinas incinerate — I was not able to discern which of the dramatis personae was the Heidi.
I feel obliged to state that Heidi Whatever’s name doesn’t appear often in my thoughts or my discourse. However, a recent article brought her up — not unlike scallops eaten in robust combination with Jagermeister (though it is, perhaps, unfair to attribute both retinal and digestive damage to one blonde celebutante). It seems that this young women also aspires to sing, and her debut CD is called “Superficial.” But I’m not here to make a point of the obvious. The noteworthy information is that, while Susan Boyle and Mariah Carey battle for multi-platinum, the results of Heidi’s CD sales have come in: 658.
Manhands and Clammy and Mitch, Oh My
So, did this show need me to stop blogging to hit its stride again? Things are pretty fab lately, huh?
This thing is just crawling with guilty pleasures, and I think my favorite moment today is when Mitch barks at Nurse Manhands and makes her scurry out of the room, or cave, or fortress…wherever they are. If it wasn’t already clear, I LOVE Nurse Manhands…she reminds me of Beowulf.