Random thoughts as the television drills the brains out of me.
Lifetime Network. Seems to me, on the womanly front as I wait about as the Wife gets her teefes drilled, it's akin to me--strapping Mandingo Buck that I am--watching a "Watch Kunta Get Beat" Network every day. Guess somebody's gotta watch those heavily-edited sex scenes featuring bad eighties electric guitar in the background. I've been subjected to it a few minutes. Check off: woman in danger; woman killed; woman in threatening situation; badly edited and highly cliched sex/guitar scene; smoldering heroic type of manly dude; blonde with the good hair that you know will survive anything; blonde whose hair isn't as suitably coiffed -- set to die. Ladies, your name is not Vicky Victim. Stop watching massa coil that lash.
The previous time waiting for the Wife in a waiting room they, they made me watch Wendy Williams. I still hurt inside.
Why can't waiting rooms have individual isolation chambers? I'd much rather achieve an altered state of reality where I revert to prehistoric man and eat deer at the zoo than watch Wendy Williams.
I'd rather shave my nads, spackle them entirely with peanut butter, and fall asleep on a park bench than watch Wendy Williams.
You'd think there'd be a lot of male frontal nudity (even blurry dicks count) on the Lifetime Network, but there's not. Lots of tight blouses and female cleavage though. Curious.
I'll bet Wendy Williams starred in a Lifetime Network movie. That explains the current state of the world.
This is Wendy Williams, likely a good mother and decent human being, but god!
Now you hurt too.
I'm so sorry.
At least the rare token blacks on the Lifetime Network movies are too incidental to die. The dream is alive, Dr. King!