Last night was one of True Blood‘s best episodes in quite some time, and for some reason my Atlantic post is getting comments from DETRACTORS. One says she hopes I one day get a life (thanks, doll), the other is shocked — shocked! — that adults watch this show. First off, let me say I’d be far more shocked if children were watching it.
Secondly, shut up.
My latest True Blood recap is up, and I’m bitter at HBO for making me write it. Reader, I love the show! But the rapey murder perv-titillation scene at the end was just not cool.
Also, why does everything bad always happen to Tara? Not the rapey murderish scene, of course, but she spends half her time getting hypnotized by evil beings in various forms, and the other half getting her heart broken by serial murderer boyfriends or her alcoholic mother (they alternate). Give the poor girl a break!
trio of not
1.
So many lovely
maternity dresses hang
wasted in her house
2.
Dying word, ‘Eclogue’ –
poem where shepherds converse –
awaits new Dark Age.
3.
Once-proud unicorn,
On which reality show
shall I blame your fall?
I liked the wrong version better.
Explsion Email v2
Click on the image above so you can actually read the email — basically nothing explodes. Just a flash and a puff of smoke. BOOOOOOOOOOO. I HAD been going to watch their pilot as a reward for the lunchtime entertainment, but if this is all they’re giving me, I’ll stick to Bones and NCIS. And Veronica Mars, of course.
(To my sister, who will read the above and say I watch too much TV for a child raised by hippies: I play online scrabble all the while, to keep my IQ from dropping too much.)
That is all I wish to say at the moment (aside from FASTER, NETFLIX, FASTER!)
Evening Relaxation
Garroted joggers –
swimming cars and pet food ads –
filleted prostitutes.
I’m not going to lie — although I whine about being forced to watch this damn show, I do tend to get into it once it starts (like bathtime for toddlers!), and this episode was no different. The danger! The twists! The handsome Jeff reappearing for the crawfish challenge!
Back up. I’m not haggling about how crawfish or crayfish is spelled, but GOOD GOD, PEOPLE! YOU’RE EATING WATER COCKROACHES!
I was torn between pity and revulsion as I watched those live things trying to surreptitiously crawl off the table to safety. Then Jaime actually garnished her dish with one of them! I like her and all, but that earns losing right there.
The gumbo, oyster stew, fish, drinkkkkkkkkkkks, and other meals that followed the crawfish challenge were a joy to behold, the outfits were lovely, the people were . . . sometimes lovely, and so forth, as human feeding frenzies usually go.
The end result of it all is that I really really really want to go eat some spicy New Orleans – style food. Sans crawfish.
Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?
