- An open letter to Bates the Idiot: You can’t “stepping out of the shadows” of Anna’s assault and move on if you use the one drink toast at a real restaurant you’ll ever make in your stupid lives to dramatically declare here’s to stepping out of the shadows.” Wtf?
"And the lady will have the Stepping Out of the Shadows Kebab with creamed spinach, if you please."
Reminds me of this shit:
7) I don’t know about your computer, but mine has some super-active software shit that blocks pop-ups. And it’s so proud of its work that it CONSTANTLY lets me know about the pop-ups it’s blocked with…pop ups!!!! Grrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!! Fucking hell. This would be like me proudly announcing every day that I didn’t sexually harass you by writing “Hey, I didn’t sexually harass you!!” on my dick and showing you every 5 minutes. Thanks Norton!!!!!- Still cracks me up the new lady’s maid is called “Baxter.” “Baxter.” Ha! I can’t even explain it, it’s just funny. Like farts, or covering yourself with Country Crock and lying under the bed with the lights out crying yourself to sleep because you know you're going to die completely alone. I mean, never gets old, amirite?
-Isis the dog made an appearance? Are you kidding me – last time we saw her the ping pong table was set up in the study for the wounded soldiers during WWI. Edith had only been rejected as a lover by the local hunchbacked boy with a face full of boils 2 or 3 times; I mean, this shit was EARLY. What is this mutt, 85 years old now? (Ed. note: just got an email from Edith: “Is Isis single?”)
Sigh.
- I wish I could be surprised by Isobel “happening to find” the pen or whatever at Violet’s, but then this is Downton Abbey, where the laws of neurological biology cease to exist. Or does nobody else remember Matthew Crawley deciding to jump out of his wheelchair after about 10 minutes of being paralyzed? Isobel finding the pen so quickly reminded me of another great show written for people with barely formed brains, The Wonder Pets:
And as "wonder"-ful as these guys are, they seem to get lucky a lot. A typical scene is the one we just saw: they're in their wonder-mobile, flying over Greece to find an injured inchworm and help him. To whit:- I liked the “Room of Living Spouses” thing going on with Branson, Isobel and Mary in a room. Branson’s account of loving Sybil was touching. Isobel remembering her own dead husband from long ago was a nice insight to her past. And then Mary being jarred into remembering “oh right everyone’s looking at me, I should probably make up some shit about loving Matthew here” by spewing some crap which should’ve been retorted by Isobel or Branson with “Really? Love, snowflakes, your heart all a pitter-patter? Didn’t you reject him, then quasi-accept him until you realized your mother being pregnant could get you out of it, only finally accepting him as your ‘soulmate’ years later and marrying him years after you were becoming more and more dried up and you were tired of dragging dead bodies out of your boudoire, the entire time during which you nagged the fuck out of him because he didn’t feel right accepting money from his dead fiancée’s father just so he could bail your dad out for sending his checking account routing number to a prince in Nigeria, until your 'soulmate' finally decided he’d rather plow into another car on the road than spend another minute with you? No? Wasn’t that you? I'm PRETTY sure that was you.”
"Wow, Greece is huge! How are we EVER gonna find the worm??!!"
"There it is!"
"Great!"
Linny. Tuck. And Ming Ming too.
-Shouldn’t everyone have been less wierded out by the singer being black as te fact that whatever he was singing was gay as hell? Something about “Harry” who wants to kiss and spread his chocolate love? Wtf, really? You couldn’t change “Harry” to "Mary”? For fuck’s sake, maybe black people really AREN’T as smart as white people. Fucking hell.
- Speaking of being weirded out, anyone else NOT horny watching Isobel dance with Branson? All up close, and breathy, then saying “Any of those things in America can happen in Downton, you know.” If only Branson had answered as I did all those years ago:
2) Wedding B (summer 1996, Connecticut) - sorry ladies, this was RRTHUR's wedding. Some highlights here. Almost got into a fight with a whole band after telling one of their wives to "shut the fuck up." They were nice enough to document the night with some flattering photos of me on the floor of the hotel hallway, naked and with their balls in the general vicinitiy of my face. Nice.I refuse to acknowledge:
Of course, that wasn't even the highlight of this wedding. After, oh, 7000 beers the night before the wedding Xmastime starts recieving amorous attention from Sheena Baughn (name changed to protect the old, withered, sexless and GUILTY!!!) You should know that Mrs. Baughn was a) recently widowed b) next door neighbors to RRTHUR'S parents c) oh, I'd say about 65 years old. Did this matter to our guy Xmastime? Nah. tongues down each others' throats like the plane was going down. Hands all over each other. Hey, it was a woman - I believe it was Thomas Jefferson who said "beauty is only a light switch away." Anyways, somehow I got out of actually sleeping with her, but you can imagine the horror the next morning of running into her, then explaing to RRTHUR's parents that on the eve of their son's wedding night I hooked up with their neighbor 40 years my senior. Between the fright of that PLUS spending the weekend crying and whining about my first love being there (high school gf, NOT Sheena Baughn!) that wedding day was pretty traumatic. WEDDINGS 2, XMASTIME 0
ps - fast forward 2 years. I had moved to NYC, and RRTHUR and MRS. RRTHUR (sorry ladies!) went down home to visit, and ended up at a barn dance. No, that doesn't mean I danced with a barn. So we get there and BAM! there's Sheena Baughn, dancing away. Oh, shit. I immediatly decide "This might be a good night to NOT drink 100 beers. Or one drop. Or smell booze from someone talking." Total precautions were taken - I avoided her all night, spent most of the time talking to my old jv football coach Charlie Futchko who, what with his creamy-white doughy body, 70's porn mustashe, collection of skintight coach's shorts and inability to say the letter "r" "Gwegowy!! dwop your dwawers!!" deserves his own Xmastime post. But anyways I made it through the whole night without running into her, and as we're getting ready to load up to go home I breathe a sigh of relief when...an old, withered, senior citizen hand that was pumping equals parts feral sexuality and Ben-Gay landed on my shoulder and sent ripples through my young body not seen since I almost got caught beating off as a kid (by Mr. Futchko…4 times. I mean caught BY Mr. Futchko, not that he was beating me off…where was I...oh yeah, about to hit some skins with an old lady). I turn with dread to a beaming smile “Do I get a dance?” she asked. Why not? I thought, you already took away my ability to sleep with the lights off. My brain was racing – I knew if I just ran off to the car, word would get back to RRTHUR’s parents (no ladies, he wasn’t merely sent down from angels!) that I acted like a jerk. I quickly ingested the upcoming song – it was midtempo, meaning I didn’t have to fast dance, and I didn’t have to rub up all over her wrinkled-up groins either. I mumbled okay, we hit the dance floor and I started counting down the seconds that I knew were left in the song. So we’re bopping along, “dancing”, and then she says “You’re a good dancer.” I mumble somehting like “thanks” and BAM!!!!!!! She yanks me close, pulling me right up to her and says “what else are you good at?” POOOOOINGGG!!! I was sitting in the mini-van screaming at everyone to load in and got the fuck out of there tout suite.
Footnote:
POSSIBLE ANSWERS SHE WAS LOOKING FOR FROM ME WHEN SHE ASKED “WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GOOD AT?”
a) “Cunnilingus”
b) “Sitz baths”
c) “Being a stepdaddy to people older than myself”
d) “Fuckin old ladies on hay bales”
e) “Analingus”
The Edith “say, don’t these writers just HATE me?!” situation.
Mary’s new “ooooh, they hate each other!” guy, which of course means they’re already fucking.
Sigh. Goddam I love this show.
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