Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Cooter? Seriously? For those of you fortunate people who aren't personally acquainted with me, then I reckon you don't understand why this just had me more tickled than a fat man trying to pick toe jam. See, in my neck of the woods, we refer to the Big Kahuna, the Big Ram-her Jam-her, the Monster Truck Pit, the Slip That Berthed A Thousand Ships, as a cooter. Now I realize that a cooter is also some sort of turtle looking critter, but not at my house. Cooter stew, cooter soup and cooter pie might be served here on a regular basis, but not on a plate. Now that we've got that little bit of vital information out of the way and you've managed to slap yourself awake, shall we continue?
Well good Lord! Take it personally, will ya Bill? Looks like our boy just didn't take well to being jacked on by a bunch of werewolves. And he's not fuckin' around about letting them know just who the boss is as he tears it up by ripping off furry ears and other random body parts. That man is AWESOME when he gets pissed! Really reminded me of Eric last season, tearing up the ass (and not in a good way if you know what I mean and I think that you do) of Royce Alan Williams down in the danky stanky basement of Fangtasia. You just don't need to fuck with a vampire, and that's just all there is to it. Just as Bill is staring down the biggest, badest wolf of the whole pussweasely bunch, up on a lovely white steed comes riding the King of Mississippi. Who immediately orders the snarling wolf to "heel". Which he does with a pitiful yelp as Bill, totally recognizing royalty when he sees it, cowtows to the King. Which seems utterly riduclous to us regular-ass humans. Except I've been watching The Tudors and it seems perfectly normal to me. I AM THE KING OF MISSISSIPPI!! Anyhow, it appears that this pathetically stupid pack of weres were sent by King Russell Edgington on a special mission to abduct Bill Compton, but certainly not to take his blood. Which is pretty much what Bill wasted no time in informing the king of. "And...and....and they abducted me....and....and.....they took silver to me....and....and..... they drank from my blood..." He sounded just like my kids did when I came home from work, just couldn't wait to tattle about some kind of transgression. Bill, are you a tattletale? I'm just wondering if he's ever going to hang his britches on a nail. Please? Pretty please, with a dead wolf on top? Anyhow, this news of the wolfmen taking Bill's blood just pisses off the King and his face sorta morphs into Bad News For Somebody. So, he does what any king worth his salt would do. He shoots someone. He shoots that mentally challenged dipshit who not only lost an ear when Bill was ripping and roaring, but he was also riding on the top of Bill's car when it went careening down the embankment. Which further proves that he's an idiot. Another one bites the dust. Anyhow, to prove how sorry he is and what a top-notch hostess he is, the King holds out an arm for Bill to hop aboard his hoss. Bill momentarily tries to decline, but that "get 'yo tight little narrow ass up here on this hoss" look from the King pretty much squelched that shit. So off they ride into the midnight. And might I add here that I just love that hokey harpsichord music that plays whenever the king shows up? Like Vincent Price might be lurking behind a bush or something.
Now here's Tara, who's locked herself into Layfayette's bathroom, scarfing down handfulls of pills, all kinds of pills. Honestly, she looked just like me when I finally go nuts when I'm dieting and can't stand it any longer. A large bag of M & M's and there ya go. It's me. Yes, I admit it. I have the willpower of a gnat condom. Anyhow, Layfayette comes bustin' through the door and grabs Tara up, while Lettie Mae is still babbling some crazy-ass shit about Jesus as she realizes that she's completely screwed the pooch as far as looking after her daughter. Honestly, between you and me, I think God just needs to put those awesome smackdown smoting skills that He's been honing for, oh say, since the beginning of time, to good use and send her flying into oblivion. Nothing beats a good smoting. At least not where Lettie Mae Thornton is concerned. You do know the world will thank you for it.
And of course here we have Sookie running over to Fangtasia, looking for Eric to help her solve the riddle of what the mysterious werewolf mark is. Riddle me this Eric. What is it with her? She runs around pretending to hate your dead guts, yet she can't seem to stay away? But Eric doesn't mind that she's there, as he just sits there watching her and listening to her talk. He just doesn't seem to have a lot to say when she's around. I think it's because he can't speak. My school of thought is that the massive Johnson's he's hiding under the table has drained all the blood from his head and he can't move his lips or else he's completely hypnotized by The Eyebrows That Ate Bon Temps. What the fuck is up with those eyebrows? I can't seem to take my eyes off them. Did her make-up person have a huge chub for Joan Crawford? But not to worry about a thing, cause Sookie has some sort of drawing of the Nazi Werewolf Tattoo emblem and she shows it to him. He snarks out an order for Pam to take Jessica someplace, anyplace besides there, as he begins to try and find his voice. She accuses him of blowing her off, but really Sookie, him blowing you off isn't the kind of blowing that he has in mind. I'm 'jes sayin'. But anyhow, she leaves without many answers. Once again he goes into another Godric flashback, this time from WWII. Seems he and The Vapored One (Godric, Eric wishes he knew how to quit yew) pretended to be SS shitheels in order to find out who's fueling the werewolves with vamp blood, but unfortunately Godric has to snap the neck of whatever that thing was before they can learn anything. I'm beginning to think that those two Crime Fighters haven't figured out that the object is to keep the suspect ALIVE if you want to find out shit. While all this coyness, combined with secret trouser tenting is going on between Eric and Sookie, Pam and Jessica are spending some quality times together in the ladies room (I wonder what's on the door ? I know at Merlottes they have Bucks and Does on the restroom doors, but what would it be at Fangtasia? Vlads and Vladettes? Femorals and Himorals?) as Jessica tries to pick Pam's brain about what she should do about her dead fucker/trucker without Pam figuring out what's happened. Well Jessica, I don't know what Pam told you when I wasn't in earshot, but I'm pretty sure she didn't tell you to cuddle up in your little hidey-hole with that stinking, rotting son of a bitch. Yuck! Bleech!
Anyhow, back to Bill. As Bill is introduced to Talbot, King Russell's partner in wanker love for the past, oh, 7 or 8 hundred years or so (now that's a commitment!), Bill begins to realize just how screwed he is. Actually, he could probably shit out about a dozen or so Phillips heads. Especially when he is escorted upstairs to his "room" which features the highly prized bed of some Countess who had a thing for killing virgins and romping around in their blood. Hmmm, that bitch must be an ancestor of Lorena's. Anyhow, as the door firmly closes on solid silver doors, our boy Bill gets a look on his face that says it all. It's "Fuck. Me." Ok, if you insist............
I just have to say one thing: ALFRE FUCKIN' WOODARD!" Did she nail it, or what? Layfayette, in an attempt to make Tara snatch her head from her self-pitying ass, decides to drive her to the Meadowglade Nuthouse so she can see just what real crazy is. Just in case she decides to just give up and give in to the darkness that seems to be such a part of them. And I gotta say that I was just as surprised as Tara. I mean, I sure thought Layfayette's mama had gone on to the land of cloudless day some time ago. But it seems that she's still alive, imprisoned deep in the living nightmare that is schiznophrenia. But that doesn't matter, cause every sentence from her mouth was a holler-out-loud, fall from my chair funny. I don't even want to know if there was a hole in her pocket either. But if the way she kept digging around in there was any indication, I do believe she found a little something down there that made the days pass a little faster. I know it works for me.
If the sounds of Arlene hurling shrimp and taters into the shitcan at Merlottes is any indication, then it does appear like Bon Temps couple of the year will be getting a visit from a little ankle biter before long. God, I sure hope it doesn't have those fuckin' eyes that Jason is so fond of. It does appear that Arlene doesn't seem to be real tickled about it either. Terry? He ain't got a fuckin' clue. But he's never killed anyone by accident, so what else could a gal want in a father for her child? And besides, anybody who keeps a handgun in an institutional sized empty can of green beans is alright by me. That's a man you can count on. Just look at how man times he's saved Sookie's bacon.
I dunno.....there's something about that family of Sam's that just makes me want to go take an ass-scalding bath whenever that daddy of his, Joe Lee, shows up wearing those grimy, dingy "briefs". I swear, the sight of his one-eyed jack straining against the front of that nasty-ass fly (I don't even want to get a visual about what the skid marks must look like) just about puts me off men. *shudder* Talk about low quality pokes! If I were Sam's mama, I would pray to God that I get blessed with a limp-dicked muthafucker every single night of my life.
As Sookie makes her way home from Merlottes, she is startled to see Bachelor No. 2 waiting for her in the shadows of her front porch. I swear, I'm a Sookie/Bill shipper, but if the chemistry between those two gets any hotter, then they are both going to need some asbestos liners in their drawers. Damn. Eric, it might be about time for you to stop the gazin' and get to the grazin, if you know what I mean and I think that you do. And I don't think you'll be needing to twist any arms. I'm 'jes sayin'. Where's Bill? Bill? Bill who?
But right now Bill is busy enjoying his lovely dinner, tux and all, with the King and Talbot. He's been served some sort of tangerine flavored blood soup (I don't know about you, but my mouth is watering just thinking about it) followed by a main course of bullshit as the King begins to unveil his agenda. He wants to make Bill the sheriff of area 2 in Mississippi! On goodie, goodie! In return, there are secrets about Queen Sophie that King Russell is just positive that Bill can reveal. Which he can't, of course. I wonder if the King would be hopping up on his nut about marrying up with her if he knew that she owed the biggest, baddest blood sucker of them all, the fuckin' IRS, a whalenut of money? It does seem that Sophie, in addition to being a silly, annoying little twit, has become broker than a fiddler's bitch. As Bill sits there, trying his damnest not to give the king his vilest, most no-nonsense ole stinkeye - don't even mention trying even harder to keep his fangs where they belong - in comes Lorena. Bill is, shall we say, not especially proud to see her. Actually, he would be happier to see a raging case of bleeding hemorrhoids hanging from his ass. He completely loses it as that smug bitch purrs that she's just in time for desert. Well, I don't think so. Not unless dessert is Flaming Alaska as Bill flies into a rage and throws an oil lamp on her and watches as her sorry ass burst into flames. Can I get a high-five Bill?
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
When last season ended, we saw a post-meltdown Sookie running from the ladies room to shout out to anybody who actually gave a shat that "yes, yes Bill Compton, I will marry you!" Except.....well....his superfine ass appears to be gone. As in G. O. N. E. You know, like the wind. Hmmm.....there does seem to be skullduggery afoot, even tho not a soul in their right mind would blame him for tucking it in and fleeing the fuck out of there. Sookie, you sure do put the double o in stoopid. I mean really! The hottest, sexiest, sweetest and kindest vampire in the ENTIRE WORLD just handed you an awesome block of bling while proposing marriage to you with a voice that could melt a cooter made of marble, along with plane tickets to Vermont and all you can do is fuck it up? Poor baby, he just sat there, looking all stunned and hurt. And now he's gone. But where is he??
See, I figured there could be several good explanations for this mysterious disappearance. First, I wondered if perhaps he had arranged with someone he could trust in his vampire world to wait outside, with a plastic pretend silver chain, and if Sookie showed her ass and kicked him in the nuts like we all know she's capable of, then they could come inside and do a pretend kidnapping and get him the hell out of there. Enough is enough. You can work on your education and appearance, but you just can't cure stupid. OR maybe he suddenly remembered that he left his wallet in his dressing gown pocket after purchasing that ring from Mrs. Smallwood earlier in the evening and he had to get back before that French chick brought the check. He probably figured Sookie didn't have any money because she gave it all to Jason earlier so he could attend Vampire Killin' Camp (that went well), OR maybe he just forgot to set the DVR to record the finale of American Idol. Some things just can't be missed, no matter what the circumstances. But alas, no........
So our new season begins with Sookie hauling ass outside to the parking lot, hooten' it up and hollering "Bill, Bill......". The French hostess seems a little bit concerned about the rukus until she realizes what's going on, then her vampire-patience level drops considerably as she spits out that it's always fuckin' something with vampires. Lady, if you think vampires are a huge pain in the ass, just hang around Miz Stackhouse for about another 15 minutes. Case closed.
OH GOD!!! They're hurting my Bill! It seems that a wired up gaggle of v-juice loving biker looking dudes have taken him and are doing bad things to him. Really bad things, like sticking him with a red handled paring knife, biting him and treating his blood like it's the inside creamy center of a Cadbury Egg. Just lickin' that shit up. And acting all pervy while they're doing it. I think one of my favorite lines of the episode was uttered during this scene: "Oh shit, I got vamper juice all over my touring gloves". A line like this, spoken from the mouth of a v-juiced, clearly IQ challenged Nazified member of some werewolf related soon-to-be clusterfuck just cements the deal for me. Who in their right mind could stop themselves from loving a show like this? But not to worry, as stupid is as stupid does. Doesn't take my boy long before he's taken control of the situation and snapped the neck of the fucktard driving the car, which sends his beautiful blue BMW flipping off down an embankment. My poor, poor baby! Clearly in pain and weakened by his ordeal, he pulls himself free of the car and stumbles off into the darkness. I couldn't help but think that he looked an awful lot like me, lurching my way to the parking lot after spending way to many hours looking for shoes at the mall.
And speaking of clusterfucks, here we have the most pitiful girlchild on the planet, Tara Mae Thornton, kneeling by the side of the recently deceased Eggs as a white sheet is pulled over his face. When blood begins to seep through from the bullethole in the middle of Egg's forehead, well, it just broke my heart to see those huge crocodile tears cascading down her face and hear her sobs. Damn kid just can't seem to catch a break. But don't worry Tara! Sheriff Dearborn is on the job and if anybody can fuck up evidence and not even come close to solving a case, well it's him. His proudest moment in law enforcement came when he busted that notorious gang of candy corn thieves a few years ago, and since then his crime solving successes have become as dried up as mummy spit. And as we all know, without law enforcement, well we'd be no place as a society. As Tara completely loses her shit and lashes out at Arlene, Layfayette realizes there's no time like right now to get Tara and grab what's left of the tequila and bounce over to Sookie's crib. But, unfortunately, Tara's soon going nutso on her bff Sookie as she finds out that Sookie used her Magical Shit to help Eggs remember why and what he was. Soon Layfayette is having to pull Tara off Sookie like a fox terrier off a dead rat, so he decides it would be best to just crash at his place before things get any worse. Like maybe her nutcase mother showing up,who most days is at least two bubbles off plumb, spouting some of her usual craziness about how she and Jesus are going to take care of her baby. Well, maybe the good Reverend will be of some help too if he'd just stand still long enough for Lettie Mae to dry hump him. And another thing I've been noticing around here, with the exception of vampires, does anyone in that town even own a late model vehicle? I mean, come on! Sam has a safe just packed with the green stuff, yet that Bronco he drives is older than the passing of NAFTA.
And here in Bon Temps, we have another meltdown/crisis on our hands. Our prettiest boy, Jason Stackhouse, is also severely losing his shit as he all but Nascar's his pickup truck into his yard, where he goes inside and completely falls apart. Not even a bottle of beer from the fridge (the usual fail-proof remedy for what ails a redneck boy) can fix what's ailing him tonight. He's just completely and totally freaked out by what he did. I think I would be too. This is about more than his tiny little button sized brain can absorb and process. You know, I was just thinking, that if Jason made a wrong turn somewhere and wound up in Zombieland , those ghouls would get really pissed off about that little piece of nuttin' they had gotten ahold of. So Jason just sits there, like he's waiting for someone to show up and tell him what's he's suppose to do. Which is exactly what happens as Andy the Man With A Plan comes calling. His advice? Start screwing anything that moves. Or as he puts it "dick on, conscience off". Which, when you think about it, is just what Jason would be super-good at. But it doesn't seem to work out that way as his brain and his drain just can't seem to be able to work in unison these day. See, now normally our boy Jason would have the time of his fuckin' (literally) life with two hot and horny honies that he brings home for he and Hoyt to bang. But it just ain't working out, not even a hanky panky, nothing like a good spanky, can make Iron Mike stand up and pound the canvas.
Good Lord, but our cute little Jessica is having a shit of a time trying to take care of her almost/soon will be dead fucker trucker. And Sookie just keeps showing up, bugging the shit out of her with the "have you seen Bill, have you heard from Bill, do you know where Bill is" like a friggin' stuck-ass record over and over and over and over. Damn Sookie! Jessica don't know where the fuck he is! Get it? Now shoo, shoo, go away. Jessica's got a turning to do right now. And then, here come Hoyt, hanging on the door and whining like a lost puppydog. I can tell that Jessica really wants to see him, but right now she's busier than a cat covering shit on a marble floor and she's got more important things to think about. Like how she's going to keep Bill from reaming her a new one when he finds her latest project moldering and festering in his house. But I'll give one thing to her, she thinks fast on her feet. Sookie: "what in the hell is that SMELL?" Jessica: "possum died under the house". Well, I sure understand what she means. Those things sure can raise a stink when they crawl under there and die, especially in the south Georgia heat. God, I just HATE when that happens!
And here we have Sam, driving though the night with an address of someone in Magnolia Ark. taped to his dashboard. It appears he's going to seek out his birth parents and see what he probably doesn't really need to see. Something tells me that this is not going to turn out well. But what ever does turn out well for Sam? He's the posterchild for sad sackism. All the shit just seems to be drawn towards him. And I really hate that, cause he's so adorable and his ass is hotter than a welder's torch during a south Georgia summer. I just want to reach out and grab me a good handfull everytime he walks by my chair. And speaking of hot..............as Sam is looking up something in the phonebook, there's a sudden knock at his motel room door. Guess who it is? It's Bill, and he's shirtless and looking somewhat the worse for wear. But still looking fuckalicious. Sam looks a little stunned to see him there, but of course, being the nice southern boy that he is, he invites Bill inside. And I thought for a minute or two that he was REALLY gonna invite Bill INSIDE. If you know what I mean and I think that you do. But alas, no. We didn't get to see that hard Arkansas water firsthand, as that damn cellphone woke Sam up from his uber-erotic dream of Bill. Which, btw, relieved the pure-dee shit out of Sam. Actually, he looked more shook up than he did when he saw Eric go flying up into the nightair at Fangtasia, and he looked pretty skeered then. Sam, those vampers just skeeve the hell out of you, don't they?
While all this is going on, Sookie is still running around trying to find out what's happened to Bill. Of course one of her first stops is Fangtasia, where she encounters the ever charming smart-ass Pam, who's still my favoritest (is that a word?) vampire of all. But it appears that Sookie's not in the mood for Pam's lesbian weirdness as she's on a search-and-find mission and needs to see none other than Eric, the Big Man himself. And see him she does, as she skips down the stairs to the Royce Alan Williams Memorial Dungeon and finds Eric, completely naked, having uterus bruising sex with a hog-tied and meat-hooked Yvetta, Fangtasia's newest dancer. I swear, after watching this for about 15 seconds, I could feel my lady parts shriveling up and looking for someplace safe to hide. Like a tarapin does when a car is about to hit it. Anyhow, as Eric and Sookie engage in some verbal foreplay, it soon becomes obvious that Eric is telling her the truth and he really isn't hip to the shit of where Bill could be and who could have taken him. As Sookie puts her clit back into her britches and sashays back up the stairs, she hollers back (I see she's a holla-back girl) that he still owes her ten grand. Which causes him to smile, which is a good thing because before long the Queen and Magistar will be showing up, which will wipe that shit-eating grin completely off his face. It seems Eric has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle while trying to do the Queen's bidding. Will someone just go ahead and stake her, please? I can't stand her. She's like a whiny, spoiled little bitch who sees nothing but her own selfish wants and what I want is to see is her skank ass melting into a big shitcan of red, sticky goo. This impromptu visit from The Dynamic Duo in turn forces Pam to go and verbally molest my sweet Layfayette and all but cause him to piss himself as she terrifies him once again by telling him he has no choice but to sell what appears to be an assload of "V" before the sun rises.
OH MY GOD!!! Here he comes again!! I watched him come climbing up out of that black dirt, like some primordial sex machine, ferally sniffing the night air. I was really hoping that he'd taken his good dress pants off and hung them in a tree so's not to get them dirty, but no. Disappointed again. Are we never, ever going to see his ass, ever again? I'm heartbroken that he's not nekkid this time and he not climbing out, dick first, nailing the first piece of tail that happens to be walking by. Sookie, I know you like to think that he knew it was you , but really it could have been me just as well. He was just horny and hungry, in that order. He would have nailed a bullet wound. And little sister, let me tell you this. If anyone can satisfy a big-hanging man's hunger, whether it be plasmatic or spasmatic, well it's me. But as he climbed up out of that dark earth, I kept thinking to myself that surely he'd have to take off those pants cause he was bound to have loads of loose dirt in his cracks and crevices. And nothing is worse than having dirt or sand in places that God never intended a body to have dirt or sand in. Which is why I don't like the beach. No cooter sand for me, thank you very much. I kept hollering out "take off your pants and shake out that loose dirt" but he never did. At least not where I could see it. Sigh.......life just sucks sometimes.
As Bill makes his way to a house with lights in the distance, I kept thinking to myself "now Bill, we all know what happened to you one time when you made your way to a house with a light in the distance. Don't you remember? Things really went to shit for you and if I were you I'd rethink this plan". But does he ever listen to me? No. So here he goes, knocking on the door, where he's greeted by a sweet, little ole white-haired lady pushing an oxygen tank. Her name is Olivia, and she mistakes Bill for her son Stanley. He is soooo not a Stanley. She innocently asks him if he's hungry, and boy is he ever! He lays into Olivia with all the gusto and zest of me on a chicken leg at Sunday dinner. Soon we see him wearing a shirt of Stanley's (I think Sam and Stanley shop at the same place), as he ever so gently glamours all memory of him from Olivia and just to make me love him even more, he puts a mule-choking wad of cash in Olivia's hand and tells her it's from her son. Whom I get the impression is a real shitheel who doesn't pay much attention to his sweet ole mama. I laughed out loud when Bill asked Olivia where he was and she replied that he was in her house. Tickled the crap outta me. But when Olivia told Bill that he wasn't in no Louisiana parrish, but he was in Mississippi, honestly he got a look on his face like someone had sucker-punched him in the nutsack. But he ain't skeered of no howling wolves..........cause HE FED!!!