September 19, 2011

All New!

Well, hello you. Yes, typical Blowout greeting – although – this is not a typical Blowout week. And last week wasn’t a typical Blowout week, either. We’ll get more on that (and specifically my boy, Obama) a bit later – trust that there will be several paragraphs dedicated specifically to the saunter of our Commander in Chief.
But – duh. It’s the start of a new season of gloriousness – television-wise. Yeah girl, yeah. Now listen. I am not some television whore – but Mama knows what’s good. Mostly though, I just have that magical box that brings Raven into my living room (more than) once a day on for background noise while I’m blowing out, getting a mani, teaching Neville and Lucy their letters, and so on. (Seriously, y’all have no idea what goes on in my days – its almost ungodly.) 

 As with every new season, there’s some things we can say with a fair amount of certainty. Really, really, really great shit is on during the day – intermixed with those personal injury attorney commercials, and past Jeopardy at 7 p.m. (Eastern Standard Time, of course – is there any other time zone worth mentioning?) it all goes straight to hell. I’m not excited about the new “Two and a Half Men” – Ashton Kutcher lately – well, have you peeped that? Yikes!  My how the mighty have fallen. You have no idea what I’d give to see a bitch-ass Justin Timberlake crying to Mama if only to see Ashton lookin’ fly – and also looking like he understands the concept of a shave and a haircut (two bits, if you get me).  Shit – I’ll even allow a Leif Garrett haircut – if only to see those abnormally well-structured cheek bones. I understand making preparations for the upcoming winter hibernation. But Canada isn’t that cold – and also, he lives in L.A. Right? 
People who frown upon daytime television need to set that glass of haterade down – on a coaster preferably. You’re calling the “Steve Wilkos Show” crazy? Um, hello – has anyone observed the rampant drug use and poor choice in women of Charlie Sheen over the past year? And tell me you don’t want to ask your own parents to take a DNA test after sitting through one episode of “Teen Mom” – and Gary! (“Teen Mom” is, and always will remain, in my opinion, the best form of birth control out there. In terms of price . . . can anyone help with comparing the cost of basic cable with the social and germ cost of visiting yo’ local clinic?)

 This is not to say that all nighttime television is shit. There’s the obv delight seen everytime one watches Jon Stewart and those kooky correspondents on “The Daily Show.” God Bless ‘em – they’ve almost helped to wean my roommate[mother] off of Rush Limbaugh on her five-minute drive to work.

 I’ll definitely be giving the new line-ups a fair shot – and getting back to you – if I feel like it, of course. But for now, if you want to see the best of America . . . if you want to see a young tatted-up undereducated lad stepping in and taking responsibility for his newly discovered son (“Charmaine, you are the father!”) – and you’re sick of watching KatVonD and Jesse James – head on over to Maury Povich – a real American antique and treasure. You wanna see ner-do-wells who’ve clearly never seen a shower (or a W-2) hop around on stage talking about their feelings? Flip on “Cheaters” and say a prayer of thanks for Joey Greco.  You want some headlines? Check out “Steve Wilkos” today: “3 Possible Dads, 1 Possible Molester, 1 Missing Arm.” (Okay, I totes added the part about the arm – although – this ‘ho is missing an arm – scary.)

 We’ll be discussing this again, I fear. Especially with the huge gaping void that Hope-rah has left. Oh, gah, I can’t even talk about that – I’m not wearing waterproof mascara today. I guess that means I won’t be able to check out Anderson Cooper’s new show, either. The fast fall of the Silver Fox is enough to make anyone shed a tear. Right?
Alright! Alright! The DNA Results are in – here’s hoping Charmaine isn’t adding yet another hoodrat baby to his 12 already – although, I don’t know anyone who’s ever turned down a baker’s dozen.

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