-I know I probably watch more Nickelodeon than the average thirty five year old, but I was happy happier than usual to see president’s day come and go this year. Not for the day off, mind you (because my whole life is days off, right?) but for the fact that I won’t have to sit through the seemingly unending ads for “Fred: The Show” any more. I’m no stranger to the ways the various media outlets go about force-feeding you whatever their flavor of the month is; anyone who watched the Super Bowl might as well have had their throats rubbed while a peanut butter coated LMAFO pill was stuffed into their maw, it would’ve gotten it over with quicker than the tidal wave of Party Rocking we had to do over the course of the nearly five hour game. But this fucking Fred, with his Jack-from-30 Rock-gets trapped in a helium chamber-and hit in the face hourly with a brick-smile, this no-talent, Durst-level, idiot ….
Wait where was I? My hate train derailed.
I guess the point I am trying to make is that I just don’t get it.
Fred? Fred the Movie? Fred the Show?
I don’t wish anyone ill…but if Fred got hit by an ice cream truck, I can’t say I wouldn’t be pleased.I might even go out of my way to buy an ice cream from that particular truck every time I saw it.
-I’ve been watching “Shipping Wars” on A&E since it started. It’s nothing groundbreaking. In fact, the only reason I really watch it is because I hate that guy Roy like Mitt Romney hates a woman’s right to choose, so I’m not trying to convince you to check it out. Far from it. But if you do, try to sit there with a straight face through all the different times and double-edged ways they all say the word “load”.
IT. IS. HILARIOUS. Like ‘whoever writes their in-between-scene quips used to write porn dialogue’ level hilarious. I know they are shippers. I know that the word “load” is part of their day to day language. But, still, even knowing that, I bet you wouldn’t be able to keep from laughing past the third or fourth one, and yes, there are well more than three or four per episode. Probably more like seven or eight. Enjoy. Turn it into a drinking game. Or, better yet, have it playing during your next swingers party and play a modified game of simon says along with it.
-Through constant prodding and along with the help of an outside source (merlot), I finally convinced my wife to start watching the Walking Dead with me about three hours before the premiere two Sunday’s ago during AMC’s all day marathon. The exception was that we had to start watching it from the beginning, which I undoubtedly went along with. Seeing it again (Paying closer attention to Shane’s unravel this time and it’s really interesting. I’m blaming Lori for it a lot more this time around.) has only solidified how brilliant I think the show is (and has continued to be during the current third season). I’ll keep you posted on how it plays out with my wife, though. We finished the first season last night, up though the group leaving the CDC and the doctor whispering about the contents of Marcellus Wallace’s briefcase to Rick. And, you know what? Aside from easily setting a “grossed out” faces world record, she’s hanging in there and (I think) enjoying it. Onto Season Two tonight.
-I wrote a joke last week for a television show that I contribute to that didn’t get used and I think it’s hilarious…so I thought I’d share it, lest it live in my notebook with all of the other non-genius, alone, forever.
“Adele went home with five Grammys this past Sunday, but since none of them were her actual grandmother, they were all terrified and thought they had been kidnapped.”