October 17, 2006

Crazy bitches.

I’ve figured out what I do when I’m bored, stressed out or displeased: I eat. While I don’t so much mind this, my pants do. But as no one is currently trying to get into them, I’m not sure I care.

Has anyone caught the newest version of The Bachelor? Have women really become so desperate that they would be competing for the attention of a man they hardly know, who resembles a duck and isn’t altogether . . . tall? I must say: these girls, they’s a crazy. Especially the ones crying about losing at love after having maybe 10 minutes of one-on-one conversation with a man who is not completely focused on them anyhow. I. Just. Don’t. Get. It. Although, crazy chicks do make for some highly entertaining television. Of course, Lorenzo (that would be the Bachelor) sent the craziest of them packing last night. Even though she tried to argue him into changing his mind. Dude . . . big laughs with this show. Big laughs.

Speaking of TV (oh, that’s what we were talking about?) another great new show (wait, this implies that I think The Bachelor is great . . . oh wait, I do): is Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Love Matthew Perry, love Amanda Peet, love Steven Webber (ever since Once and Again), love Bradley Whitford (developing a big crush on this man . . . mmmmmmmm). Great show. Great writing.

OK, I’m done with my half-ass Monday night TV review. Oh yes, that’s what it was.

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