Monday night TV musings...

There's a Mastercard commercial with a zookeeper and his elephant. The zookeeper has a cold, the elephant gets him soup and a blanket, and I'm weeping like a whore in church. (Yes, I know that's not the exact phrase...work with me, people will ya?)



I would also like to address the fact that the women on The Bachelor are slut puppies. I don't watch the show but caught a commercial preview in which the dialogue went something like this:

"I'm not afraid of drowning. I'll just have to give you mouth-to-mouth." (Followed by excessive tongue)

Vomit.

How are you going to give him mouth-to-mouth if you've drowned? Seriously? Stop it. Whore.



Also, I'd like to say that I love Steve Sanders...er, I mean Ian Ziering. (Pronounced "EYE-ING"...FYI) He looks hot. All fit and trim and samba dancing. The boy's got moves.

Know who still doesn't? Billy Ray Cyrus.



Gross.

He's about as graceful as my Aunt Kitty...and let me just tell you, Kitty is good at a lot of things but dancing ain't one of them. Her dancing somewhat resembles that of a seizure victim. And I'm fairly certain Billy Ray's dancing could actually CAUSE seizures. So there's that.

Oh, and Billy Ray? The word is "mediocrity" not "mediocracy." Hick.



You have to watch Notes From the Underbelly. Hysterical. And it probably won't last to hop on that train while it still has a station. (Like how I did that? Train? Station? Get it? Hee! Okay, I'll go back to my rice cakes and popsicles...don't judge me.)



Hmmm...what else? No, that about covers it.

Thanks for reading.