COME ON BABY, LIGHT MY FIRE!

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?

SHE TAKES A DICKING AND KEEP ON TICKING!

YeeHaw! The wait was finally, FINALLY over. As the hands on the clock ever so slowly crept towards 8:45 and the highly advertised AND anticipated  15 minute True Blood pre-show was about to start, I grabbed my popsicles and pork rinds, settled my girlie parts in my favorite chair, and with my excitement level at fever pitch I started watching what disappointingly amounted to a 15 minute preview of mostly other HBO shows. Hmmmm....not exactly what I was expecting. Disappointment, thou doth dog me eternally, but I was still so excited about the return of my imaginary boyfriend Bill and the introduction of my up and coming new imaginary boyfriend, the awesomely hawt Alcide, that I decided to just live in the moment and go with the flow. And what a flow it was!!

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!!!

WE'LL WORSHIP THE TROUSERS THAT CLING TO HIM

I'll sing to him, each spring to him,
And worship the trousers that cling to him
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I


When he talks, he is seeking
Words to get off his chest
Horizontally speaking, he's at his very best


Vexed again, perplexed again
Thank God, I can be oversexed again
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, am I

The month of May is almost over.  As the highly anticipated month of June quickly heads our way (but not fast enough for some of us) we are once again fairly twitching in our chairs as we watch the delicious morsels being strewn our way by HBO in the form of mini-clips, The Buzz and a few other choice delights. The third season of True Blood ever so slowly approaches, like Christmas morning, to a squirming gaggle of excited females.  What makes us,  normally a fully functioning, rational member of society, act in such a manner?  Do you really need to ask?  Why, it's the only fix to our addiction.  It's the only salve that can soothe the ache we all feel as our groaning eyes catch but the briefiest of glimpses of the pleasures to come in the new season.  We need to see him.  We need to hear that voice.   You remember that voice.  It's the one that makes us feel, if we close our eyes for a moment, that we are the loveliest belle of the ball, and we hold all the hearts of the young beaus in our perfectly gloved hands as they all gaze adoringly at us.   We have been without for far too long.

Oh yes!  That voice.....  As Bill Compton, Stephen Moyer has turned the act of merely speaking into an art form.  It is as if his brain has fallen in love with vowells, and his mouth is loath to part with a single one of them.   His lips cling to them until just the right moment, then, as they finally roll from those perfect lips, the words cascade over us like a great tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure.  Yes, he's just that good.  As the great, incomparable Ella Fitzgerald sang it best, we will indeed worship the trousers that cling to him.

SOOKIE DOES DALLAS


It's a night as dark and skeevish as the inside of an outhouse at a Marilyn Manson concert as our very own Jason Stackhouse slowly makes his way back to the bunkhouse of the Elite Death Squad of vampire assassins in training.  Sorta like Top Gun for the vampire killers, just without the planes or the brains.  He is no doubt thinking about how much a nice, hot bowl of cooter soup would really hit the spot - if you know which spot I mean and I think that you do - right about now.  Finally he rounds the last bend and stops in front of the door as he feels the hairs on his neck go into full def-con 4 alert.  As he slowly makes his way into the room, he is suddenly jumped from behind by a masked, husky voiced Rump-Ranger Wanna-be.  It's the Lukinator and he's not fuckin' around this time.  Damn Jason, it's a good thing you weren't coming out of the shower.  Something on you would have gotten expanded, and I don't mean your mind.  Is that a stake in your pocket Luke, or you just happy to see me?  As Jason finally gets up and sees the bloody mayhem all around him and realizes that it's only ketchup and that's he's just been punked by a roomfull of jackerwads, he gets madder than a pit bull looking at a Michael Vick jersey.  He returns the favor to Luke by belting him in the nose as he furiously announces "vampires are scary, vampires are not a joke!  There's a war going on and you're either on the dark side or the side of the light - and there ain't no in between!"  Fuck dude.  You're really hot when you get riled up.  I'll bet Luke will agree with me too.

Meanwhile, back at the House That Love Built, our boy Bill is all in a dither (again!) as he threatens to hurl sweet ole Hoyt Fortenberry from a window "that is closed!"  Well shit.  That ain't no way to treat company. Even Sookie agrees with me.  All Hoyt was trying to do was get himself a little summin summin cause I don't really think he's ever had a little summin summin.  Let's be fair here.  You and Sookie go at it like chinchillas at a brothel whenever the opportunity presents itself, so why not let Hoyt whittle his pencil a little?  Then Bill just devestates Jessica as he tells Hoyt that it's not Jessica that he wants to protect.  Shit Bill.  Sometimes I just want to thump you upside your head.  Now I have to confess folks, I really didn't get the whole look of embarrassment on Jessica's face when she ask Bill if it's her fault that her fangs come out when she gets turned on.  I don't know, maybe I was having a down day as far as smarts go, but I still don't get it.   But as Jessica scurries up the stairs, Sookie gets all over Bill's shit.  She tells him that he just doesn't like vampires very much.  As Billy Boy sits down and explains just how things are now verses how they were when he was turned,  Sookie tries to look interested. But all she's really interested in is dragging  Bill up those stairs and riding the Big O Train again.  Then she coyly makes a suggestion that Jessica accompany them to Dallas.  After some wheedling and probably a blow job on the stairs that we weren't privy to, Bill agrees.  We thought the Ewings gave Dallas hell.  Just wait.

Here we are back at the crick, as Sam and Daphne circle each other like they're about to suma wrestle. As they continue to swim in a circle until I was positively dizzy from trying to keep up with them,  Daphne suddenly gets a hard on for some sweet potato pancakes and tries to get Sam to climb on outta that murky, yucky water and join her. You'd better listen to her Sam.  I hear they's leeches and even worse in crick water.  Can you imagine anything worse than a leech on your slide rule?   But Sam is having some issues with ole Daffie seeing his junk.  So he declines.  That is until she let's him know that she's not only seen boy parts before, but she's seen his and he might as well give it up.  She doesn't really look too impressed with what she saw if you want my opinion.  As Sam watches Daphne climb from the water, he notices that she's got some really deep, nasty scratches on her back.  Sam, unless Daphne's last fling was with Nine Inch Nails, I'll go out on a limb here and say you might need to pass on this little piece of trim.  I'm 'jes sayin'.

Next morning Tara and Sookie chop it up on the phone as they discuss the if's and sniff's of Tara moving in with Sookie.  As Tara ends the conversation with "love you the most" Maryanne and her large collection of Maryannism's show up and want to know just who Tara loves the most.  Well, it ain't you, ya crazy bitch.  How do you like them kumquats?  Maryanne, of course, tries to get Tara into a partying mood, but Tara's about had enough of whatever snake oil  Maryanne's been selling.  She tells Maryanne that she's decided to move in with Sookie.  Something tells me that this is not going to be Smooth Sailing.  But of course, Maryanne pretends to gently nudge a guilty Tara from the nest with a long hug and another one of those mooterfookin' Maryannisms "Go, flourish and don't ever say no to yourself".  Now this might be good advice most of the time, but what if you wanted to rub one out while at church?  Wouldn't that be a good time to say "no" to yourself?  Again, I'm 'jes sayin'.

Breakfast time at the Light of Day Camp is like watching hogs at slop time.  Here we have Jason, the Lukinator (looking all the world like Gonzo from Sesame Street with his big purple nose) and a few others wolfing down their food like the winner will get their knob polished by the lovely Miz Sara Newlin.  Wait - maybe they will.  Anyhow, even the dimwitted Lukinator is spellbound at the sheer stupidity of Jason as they lead a rousing discussion of all sorts of issues a true hater of everything vampire related  might need to keep in his arsenal of fucktardedness.   Say, like how Lazarus or Jesus was the first vampire.  And all about evil and how Europe plays into it all and who can explain Europe?  Not me.  Just as Jason is about to wolf down a short stack of Aunt Jemima's, there's an announcement over the intercom that Jason Stackhouse is wanted outside by Reverend Newlin, PDQ.  Jason practically pees himself as he gets up and heads outside, wondering if The Reverend with the Book-'em Dan-o hair has gotten hip to his shit about those boner's he's been getting over Mrs. Reverend.  But it's a false alarm.  All the Reverend Newlin wants is a good ole boy to ride shotgun in his jeep and holler "yee-haw!" at the appropriate times when the paint balls find their target.  Ya'll, I ain't kiddin'.  This guy is fuckin' nuts.

Whoa!  It's the birthday gift that just keeps on giving!  As Sookie chokes back tears over her missing of Gran, she gives a photo of Gran, Tara and herself to Tara for her birthday.  Hmmmm....Can anyone spell cheap?  I know it's the thought that counts, but come on.  I'm sure Tara was just thunderstruck over such an overwhelming gesture, but I'm sure she herself was thinking the same thing.  What?  Sookie didn't have enough time between working at Merlottes' and riding  Mr. Bill's Magic Rocketship  to make it to the mall?  Damn Sookie, just a little gift bag from Bath and Bodyworks would have been nice.  And Sookie being Sookie, she just cannot stop herself from blabbing to Tara about what happened with Layfayette at Fangtasia.  As if there was ever any doubt, this girl does not need to take up being a double-naught spy as a new career move.  We'll all be speaking Arabic before Christmas.

Poor Miss Jeanette is looking as fucked up as a person can look as Kenya, Mike the Yucky Coroner and Sheriff Dearborn examine her poor, heartless body and discuss possible ways of her demise and what on earth could have made those horrible scratches on her back.  Hey!  Over here!  I know!  I know!  When the two buffoons crack wise, lady cop Kenya is NOT amused.  And she's even less amused as Detective Andy comes busting in, as usual acting stupid while blabbering on about a pig.  They all look at him like he's fucked up crazy at least 15 ways from last Sunday as Sheriff Dearborn orders him not only from the room, but takes all his Official Detective Shit away from him.  Awe man!   It's gonna be a cruel, cruel summer.

Lafayette hasn't lost his door answering skills as the agradamnvated hostess with the mostest hollers out "damn hooker shit!" as Tara practically beats his door down.  When he opens the door, Tara's flies all up in his shit about the gunshot wound.  And what's this about him being chained up in a basement and bitten by vampires?  Now ya'll, Laffy ain't nobody's fool.  He knows exactly where Miss Tara Mae got the 411 about his boot camp with the vampires. The expression on his mug says it all.  Like there's nothing he'd like better than to take Sookie and ream her out a new one over her big-ass mouth,  but sadly resigns himself to just let it go.  Tara makes sure he knows that it's her birthday, but in the state he's in, he just doesn't give a flyin' fuck as she leaves, looking all pitiful and abandoned.

As Sam bustles about Merlottes, acting all busy and shit, he talks to Terry about running the place while he's gone.  Now y'all, I love me some Terry Bellefluer as much as you do, but I gotta say this.  Terry is the LAST person you'd want to leave in charge of a place as crazy as Merlotte's.  What on earth is Sam thinking?  Poor Terry all but blows a major cog as he struggles to cope with planning just a few lunch specials.  This is not a good move Sam.   But Sam is all about Sam right  now.  He barely responds as Sookie tries to talk to him and find out just what's got his buttcrack so fuckin' chaffed.  Hmmmm, let's see here.  Could it be because you led him on and let him get a good ole whiff of your tuna casserole as he frantically searched for his money, then announced that you were no longer selling to him?  Could that be it?  Ya think?  But here's an idea!  This will get him feeling happier and ready to face a new day in Bon Temps!  Tell him that YOU need to be gone for a few days.  Even better!  Tell him you need to be gone with BILL for a few days to deal with your own shit.  Yeah, that outta do it.  Sam's really happy now.

Well.  It sure didn't take Tara very long to land on Sookie's sofa.  She must have stuffed all her worldly possessions in a Wal-Mart bag and hauled ass over there like it's free Pabst Blue Ribbon night at the VFW.   For here she is, crying into her imaginary beer and no doubt wondering why she got stuck with such a suck-ass life.  You just gotta feel sorry for the kid.  Here it is, her birthday and nobody really gives a damn.  Suddenly, she hears something.  Considering the history of the house with Gran and all, she just can't help but be skeeved out to the inth degree.  But this skeeving has a happy ending as Maryanne, Eggs and Carl crash the joint with cake and all the tomfoolery that goes with a surprise birthday party.  Of course, Maryanne cannot deliver birthday cake without spouting out some sort of bullshit about "embracing the mysteries of what's yet to come".  Come being the key word here........... Tara, I'm with you here.  What friends?

Speaking of coming (well, weren't we?) Jason Stackhouse probably has more sticky goo on the inside of his leg than the spackling department at Home Depot.  He struggles to pay attention to whatever boring-ass crap Steve Newlin is droning on and on about.  Meanwhile, the lovely vanilla flavored Sara Newlin shows Jason all of her perky Dallas Cowboy cheerleader moves as she all but pops the buttons from her little red gingham blouse .  And I don't think one of those ribs she's smoking right now is the kind of hot meat she's hoping to have in her mouth.  'Jes sayin'.

Just gimme a "T" for Texas as a totally buzzed looking Sookie comes bounding out of the exit door of the Anubis Airline.  Sookie, it's a good thing you got cut off at ten with those doll sized bottles of hooch.  You're already, shall we say, goofy as hell at times and I don't think you need to be getting skunked at a time like this.  Suddenly, she realizes that the limo driver is up to no good, so of course our boy Bill comes flying out of his Star Trek looking vessel, all vampire fast like, and saves the day as poor Jessica is left to bounce around in hers like a Mexican Jumping Bean.   Then Bill decides that some sort of skullduggery is afoot and proceeds to glamour the truth out of the limo driver.  In a weak moment and possibly to score some extra Pussy Points with Sooke (as if that was really necessary) he decides to let Jessica do some hands-on training with Glamouring 101.  Say no more, as Jessica is a gal after my own heart and wastes no time having the time of her life fuckin' with the head of Leon the Limo Man.

In the meantime our poor Layfayette is still laid up on his sofa, watching Sinbad as suddenly a big bad vampire comes knocking at his window.  He looks up and sees what amounts to his worse nightmare.  But Eric comes in peace.  Cause he's wanting a piece.  Real bad.  Badly enough to offer Layfayette some of his highly prized 1000 year old vamp blood.  The scene which follows is probably, hands down, one of the funniest things I have ever seen on film.  It's like Layfayette has suddenly gone into warp speed and is fucking the air, the sofa, the wall and anything else that gets near his air space.  As a bored Eric watches, his interest momentarily perked, his cellphone rings.  It's Bill and he's all in a tizzy over the almost kidnapping of the cooter that apparantely can launch a thousand ships.  Must be nice for your stuff to be so valuable and highly sought after.  I reckon mine is just regular cause nobody wants to give away their valuable blood in order to tap my ass.  As Bill gets all huffy and starts to ream Eric a new one, Eric reminds Bill of just who's the bottom bitch and who ain't.  Bill, I think this conversation is o.v.e.r.

Meanwhile, I don't think Gran Stackhouse's home has seen this much rocking under it's roof since Jason brought home the cheerleader squad.  As Tara and Eggs dance like the pro's they probably are, Maryanne makes a point of fuckin' with Sam until she has him as frustrated as a drunk living in a dry county.   Maryanne makes sure everyone is feeling the spirit as she makes a point of tossing Tara's aluminum foil wrapped gift from her mama into the shrubs.  Well, that wasn't nice.  I hope it wasn't brownies or something.  The fireants will have it before morning.  And she's off, gyrating and vibrating into the dark as everyone seriously gets their freak on, including Tara and Eggs who are getting down to some serious fuckin'.  SERIOUS fuckin.

Back in Dallas, poor Sookie's not having much luck bedding Bill and getting her hands on his overworked trouser rouser as a sudden knock at the door seriously disturbs the piece.  It's Eric and he's a wantin' a little face time with Bill.  I swear, Bill's dick is probably more over-worked than the Israelite slaves who built the pyramids.  I'm serious here.  As Eric and Bill engage in another dick-measuring contest, Sookie answers a knock at the door to discover a bellboy and a handsome young man dressed in....practically nothing.  It's Jessica's midnight snack.  Sookie's all confused cause she just knows Bill's gonna be pissed about this, but before she has time to wrinkle her nose and looks spastic, she realizes that she's just met someone like her.  No, I don't mean hornier than a taste-tester for Spanish Fly, but someone who can hear people's thoughts.  She can't wait to talk to him.  If she can just catch him, that is.

A Very Worthwhile Cause!

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I GET A KICK OUTTA YOU!

Listen up General Motors. This is why Honda is whupping your ass. That little yellow hoop-dee of Sookie's must be at least 15 years old, yet it held up under Bill's most awesome man-fit as he drove it like he was 30 minutes late for divorce court. I kept expecting to see spit flying (would it be bloody spit?) from Bill's former pie-hole as he momentarily located those magnificent cajones he once proudly sported as he flung out a massive, yet impressive, throwdown on Sookie. And let's be honest here, didn't we all enjoy it? Just the teensiest bit? Last season, when Sookie was throwing down all that smack on Bill and recinding his invite and just being a hardcore bitch in general to him, especially after Bill had to re-connect with his big, bad vampire self and do what was the equivalent of a public vampire gang-rape, weren't we all just ready to jump up out of our seats and give out hi-fives and huge shoutouts to that awesome vampire! Yeah! 'Dats what I'm takin' about! Finally, as we who squat to pee are prone to do, she's had about enough of his shit as she furiously orders Bill to stop the car. I don't know about you, but I just loved LOVED the look on Jessica's face as Bill announces, and not to convincingly, that "she'll be back'. Jessica was like "Jesus Christ, but you are one dumb fuck." Bill, for an old guy you sure haven't learned much about women. We never NEVER give up first and come back to the car. But, of course, Sookie being Sookie, she runs into some deep do-do whilst traveling down the highway of life. So, of course, it's our boy Bill to the rescue. Again.

Poor Sookie. She's a damn mess. Back all tore up, nice denim jacket is pretty much a done deal. Looks like she won't get to use the Bedazzler on it. But her hair still looks great! As Bill finds her all super vampire-fast like as she's lying flung out in the middle of the highway (see, if that were me, at least 6 cars would have come by and run over me again, thinking it was a huge deer or something) and watches in horror (his face is like "da-um bitch, you are seriously, and I mean SERIOUSLY fucked up) as she starts frothing up some vile, nasty white stuff that looks like the nozzle misfired on a can of Faultless Spray Starch. Since Fangtasia must be the triage unit for all things vampire related, Bill orders Jessica to drive them there. Our Jessica is all ready to enjoy some hang time with her Fangtasia homies, but our boy Bill sticks a prick in that cherry as he firmly orders her home. Poor kid. It's like nobody wants her.

But help is a comin' in the form of our very own half-pint MD, Dr. Ludwig. Who's no fan of the fang and also is no fan of the bedside manner and wastes no time with howdys and fist bumps as she cuts straight through the shit. This low-down causes Bill to all but go into major spaz mode. As Bill stands around looking all janked up and worried after hearing Sookie's not only been poisoned, but will probably croak, he completely misses that look on Eric's face that makes it clear to anyone who has a dog in this hunt that as soon as the opportunity presents itself, well, that's definately an ass that he intends to tap. Sookie's, I mean. Not Bill's. Bill, you really need to start paying more attention to what's going on. You become totally pussy blinded everytime you're with Sookie. We established a while back that you're a tad slow on the upswing at times and don't pay a helluva lot of attention to anything except her.....assets....but really, you need to buck the fuck up and start paying attention. No kiddin'. Poor Bill, who's already looking as guilty as a sinner in church, holds Sookie down while Dr. Ludwig pours either battery acid or Leona Hemsley's spit on her back as she screams in pain, which, btw, would permantly damage the hearing of mere mortals, as Dr. Ludwig digs a knobby finger into her back and slides up a really nasty, loogie looking thing that reminded me of a Jelly Belly after I sucked all the sugar coating off. Since Bill was otherwise occupied looking all stressed out and guilty, I guess he just didn't have time to worry about the fact that Eric was hanging out in the corner, seriously getting his jack on as the aroma of Sookie's blood and cooter wafted over to him on a cloud of funk.

While all this fun stuff is going on at Fangtasia, we see Sam Merlotte, Bon Temps local Sad Sack, as he's sitting at his desk acting like he don't know whether to shit a tree stump or play poker. And to further enhance his sparkling personality, Merlotte's newest and not-too brightest, Daphne, shows up to announce that's she's fucked the pooch as far as her tickets go.. So of course Sam has yet ANOTHER meltdown and sends her fleeing in tears as Tara rounds the corner spouting Maryanne-isms. Lately, it's like Tara's become a talking Barbie doll. You just pull her string and she spouts out Maryanne-isms with aplomb, much to the not-delight of Sam. Sam, seriously dude, you really need to consider scoring some Xanax. Really.

"But when I dreammmm....I dream of you......." It looks like Jason is having his own dream of being blown while at camp. Wouldn't Royce Alan Williams be proud? He's sorta enjoying this.....until he jerks (*snort*) awake and sees Eddie The Murdered Vampire, all naked and wollering on top of him. This, of course, causes a major freak-out on Jason's part and so he does what all good soldiers of the sun would do. He prays. Which pisses off the Lukinator. And earns him a pillow being thrown at him. Cool. Another pillow for my bunk. Thanks dude. Does anybody really care?

Ah, yes. Here we are once again at the home of the Maryanne the Fruit Queen, as she and Carl are whipping up a batch of soup, made with hearts of Jeanette. And Carl is no dummy folks. When Maryanne suggest that it might need a wee bit more juniper, he all but dumps a load in his drawers as he scurries away to fetch it. Soon Tara shows up, looking semi-mellow over the idea of someone just bringing her stuff before she even asks. Which of course earns her another Maryanne-ism. I wonder what the prize is when you have collected say.....a hundred of these damn things? Not sure I wanna know. Anyhow, after some chit-chat and par-tay in da house talk, Maryanne proceeds to roll the biggest, most awesome looking joint I have ever seen. Now Maryanne bugs me mightly, but I will have to offer major props in the doobie rolling department. She be awesome! Of course Tara cannot resist the notion of lighting a fire under that lovely thing, and of course she won't be able to show up for work. Think Sam will be pissed? Oh, I dunno.....he's really been so mellow and understanding lately...... OF COURSE SAM WILL BE PISSED. HE IS STILL BREATHING, ISN'T HE?

After some really lame-ass group therapy session at the FOTS that nobody really wants to re-hash, least of all me, we can just blow right on past that until we cruise into Fangtasia, where a fully healed and wearing a fly Fangtasia t-shirt is Sookie, who's anxious to check out her back to see just what the fuck all the commotion was about. Suddenly she's surprised by Fangtasia's very own barmaid de jour, Ginger. Who's mama raised her right, cause she immediately brings Sookie a little bite to eat. This appears to be an original Ginger special. A "peanut butter and chocolate syrup two-top sandwich". Which, if you think about it, would back down a fuckin' fly from a puke wagon. And that's pretty much Sookie's reaction. Wait! What's that I hear? Layfayette's in the basement? And Ginger's got a gun? Where's Lassie when you need him! Quick Lassie, go find the Miller's and tell them Lafayette's being held hostage in the basement! But our Sookie's just had herself a big ole hit of vamp blood, so she needs no help from Lassie as she's quicker than the average gal. Unless you take into account the ones who show up at Filene's basement on wedding dress day. As a completely unbelieving Sookie kneels by the side of our poor, filfhy, smelly and gunshot Lafayette, it just tore me all up to see him like that. But even better than Lafayette's rescue? That damn purple eye of Sookie's is finally, finally gone.

There's an orgy at Maryanne's, but unless you're turned on by nekkid men with beer guts and pork swords a blowin' in the breeze and way too chunky to be nekkid women with tits a flippin' left and right, then I won't even bother with the freak-out at Maryanne's. Even Tara, who lately has been keeping her intelligence way too close to her cooter, is grossed out. 'Bout time honeychile. I'm jes' sayin'.

As Eric finally gets his boner under control, he announces to a furious Sookie that she most certainly can give him props for saving her life by jetting off to Dallas to help find his homeboy Godric. Sookie graces him with a look that a dog would give a box of worming pills as she announces that it will cost him $5000, which causes that smirk on The Viking's face to be even smirker. But that smirk sorta disappears when Bill ups the ante to $10,000 AND informs Eric that there's no way his bottom bitch will be going to Dallas without him. Yeah Eric, looks like you're gonna have to lick that Baby Ruth again. Rethink your game plane and all that stuff. Meanwhile, my favorite vampire in all the world, Pam, shows up and flings a shell of his former self, Lafayette, into the room. But our short-order cook still has enough piss and vinegar in him to set off the rile-up in Pam. Poor Layfayette. As he returns to his dark, empty house (which I'm sure he never thought he'd see again) he was 20 ways past pitiful as he curled up on his sofa, all swaddled in an afghan that I would bet the farm his mama had made. *sniff, sniff*.

Meanwhile, everybody's busy gettin' down at the home of Maryanne when the worst cop in the world shows up. What an idiot. First he sees a pig in a dollhouse, then he doesn't. But what he DOES see and wishes he didn't is a half-nekid and drunken Mike Spencer gettin' his freak on with the local barfly Jane Goodhouse. EEEEKKKKK! My eyes!!!

Jason, trust me on this one. You stay away from that 'nana pudding. She might not whip it out for anybody, but I'm betting my left ovary that she's gonna whip it out for you. And she'll be expecting you to bring the banana AND whip cream next time.

Jessica's had about enough of this "home alone" crap. So she paints up her lips and rolls and curls her tinted hair cause Jessica is contemplating going out somewhere. She makes her way to Merlotte's where she catch the eye of the sweetest guy on the planet. That Hoyt Fortenberry is just all kinds of awesome. He gets invited back to da house, where he thinks "Vampire Bill's" house is just soooo cool. Yeah, me too dude. Just as they're getting their freak on, they are rudely interupted by the two horn dogs who've been outside on the porch all but dry humping each other. Oh, btw, Bill still loves him some petticoats. Once inside (the house, get your mind outta the gutter) things just don't go real well with this meeting the parents thing and Bill, once again, completely over-reacts. Bill, whaz up wid 'dat? Chill baby, chill.

Meanwhile, as this incredibly long night comes to a close, Sam the Sham makes what he thinks is a good-bye run with his doggie befri. As he leaps into the crick, he looks up to see a fetchingly lovely Daphne stripping down to her Victoria's Secrets. But what are those scratches we see? Hmmmmm.........

ERIC GETS FOILED AGAIN

BELCH! Hang on to your Pepto folks, cause our next spincter tightening episode begins with Eric, still wearing those fetching hair foils, doing a spot-on impersonation of me at the Smokin' Pig BBQ Buffet. Exchange the blood all over his vampire mug for some Jack Daniels Rib Sauce, and the resemblance is even more startling. Then, as Eric finishes chawin' down on Royce's tasty redneck vittles, and as an extra visual reinforcement to Layfayette (as if he needed one) he oh-so casually flings a dismembered arm, like a boomerang, across that smelly and gross dungeon as it slo-mo's it's way over to the left titty nipple of a totally terrified Layfayette. (I was really praying it wouldn't fall into the shitbucket.) Hey, I don't know about ya'll, but I'm definately a believer. I don't need ANYMORE convincing that Eric is Bad News. Poor Layfayette is so terrified, he doesn't know whether to shit in his eyes or screw his pants shut. And bless pat folks, Eric's worried about having blood in his hair. What did you think dude? You've just torn a slightly chunky redneck limb from limb, you've ingested enough blood to make you need to loosen the drawstring on your work-out pants and make you think that perhaps your next feed should come from someone who's been doing Jenny Craig, but yet you're wondering if some blood might be in your hair? Actually, after Eric ingested all that redneck blood, I was totally expecting Eric to order Pam or Chow to make haste to an all night car dealer and find him a 4-wheel drive pick-up with mud-grip tires, a gun rack on the back window and a Rebel flag vanity plate. And let's don't forget to load that 5-disc CD changer with some Lynrd Skynrd.

Quick cut to the Compton crib, where our eternally horny Sookie (I've decided horn-dog runs in the family) and a "teetering on the cusp of pussy- whuppedness" Bill are lying in bed,engaging in some silly, post coital small talk that's suppose to make us see just what a normal, average cute little couple they are. I find myself wondering what Sookie did with that bloody chenille bedspread. I do hope she's got it soaking in Bill's badass bathtub with a little dollop of OxyClean. And of course it's not too long before Sookie's horny hiney gets the better of her and she's coyly making a suggestion that Bill might need to make up to her for.....what? I guess it doesn't really matter. All she's really interested in is straddling those powerful vampire loins again and taking another ride around the corral. Good thing Bill's a vampire. Either his dick would fall off from overuse or Mike the Coroner would be making another midnight run.

Man, it just hurts my heart to see our once peacock-proud Layfayette all broken down and terrified as the always adorable smartass Pam smirks and calls him a hooker while chiding Eric about fuckin' up his hair. Layfayette is doing everthing but making a rabbit appear from a hat, as in desperation he begans to work an angle, any angle in order to get his ass up and out of there. In sad desperation, he throws out the name of Jason Stackhouse, but unfortunately for him, Eric jes ain't buying the shit he's selling. As Eric files away this little tidbit of information as future currency that he hopes will buy him a piece of the incredible Sookie Nookie, he lets Layfayette know the bloody-haired sheriff of area 5 jes ain't quite through with our vamp blood dealing hustler just yet. So it's back to the Fun House for Layfayette!.

As the wheels on the FOTS bus go round and round all through the town, Jason, our very own vampire killin' little grasshopper, tries his hand at joining in with some really lame-ass vampire hate songs as he and the Lukinator have a few quality moments of dick measuring and just all around buddy bonding time. If you think he looks happy now, just you wait until he gets his very own "I'm in the vampire killer club" silver decoder ring. Quick cut (this episode made me all but dizzy!) to the ever lovely Tara, as she comments on the way Eggs smells. With someone named Eggs, I expected he would smell somewhat like a hot fart in a closed up car, or maybe a natural spring of sulfur water. But no, according to Tara Mae, he smells nasty and nice and all at the same time. Gee, it's really been a while since someone said that to me. Unfortunately for the lovebirds, Tara has to make post haste to her job at Merlottes, where we just know Sam will be, once again, pissing and moaning about something. I swear, here lately he's stayed so riled up that he could start a fight in an empty house. Soon enough, here comes Sookie, who I swear looks like she 's had her hair fixed at the Ellie Mae Clampett School of Hair Design. I guess Ellie Mae has gone through all of Jed's oil millions and had to take up a career. Feeding all those critters can get expensive, not to mention the upkeep on the cement pond. I hear pool boys are union now. I know Ellie Mae's proud that Sookie appears to be her best customer. Sookie and Maryanne meet for the first time, as they perform the patented southern "nice to meet you, fuck you" ritual, their eyes are just screaming "I'm gonna kill yo skank ass, bitch" as they make small talk and Sookie tries to make sense from the weird-ass mumbo-jumbo she hears in Maryanne's thoughts. Now I don't know what language Maryanne was speaking, but I'm fairly certain she was saying "if the price of those fuckin' mango's keeps going up, I'm gonna have to pimp Carl out in order to pay for them".

Soon a randy and bouncy curls looking Sookie Mae Clampett invades the Compton joint again, as she has just seen Jessica's parents pleading for her return on the tv. I assume she was, once again, going over to verbally abuse our poor de-nutted Bill about his turning of Jessica. But alas! He ain't there. Seems he has gone out to the local mall for a few glad rags for his little girl. Now, truthfully, I find this somewhat fuckin' dumb. Why didn't he wait for Sookie and enlist her help in selecting a new wardrobe for Jessica? You think he might not be over the moon about Sookie's choices in wardrobe? I dunno....... Soon we see poor confused Bill, as he desperately looks around for the corset and crinoline section. But help is a comin' in the form of a super-horney salesclerk who's all but dripping on the floor when she finds out "Yes, I am vampire". That is until Eric with the new 'do shows up. At first I thought he really wanted to talk to Bill about some missing vampire bullshit, but now I'm more and more convinced he just wanted Bill's opinion on his new 'do as he and Bill send out a rousing vibe of light-loaferness that sends the salesclerk, who had every intention of backing Bill's ass up in the dressing room, scampering off. Bill, you really need to go home. REALLY. You have no idea what those two gals who have taken over your newly renovated bathroom are up to.

Poor Layfayette has finally broken free of his leg irons in a scene that is probably, hands down, the most gruesome and disgusting thing I've ever seen. I don't really want to describe it to you, or even dwell on it very long, so if you're curious then tough shit. Go watch it yourself. As Layfayette makes his way upstairs into the bar of Fangtasia, he's so overcome with relief that's it's daylight he practically pees himself. Suddenly, from her duties as fangbanger deluxe, comes crazy ole Ginger the waitress, looking as crazy as ever and waving a revolver around like somebody would wave around a urine specimen from someone with the clap. Now ya'll, I do believe Ginger has got the craziest looking face I've ever seen. It's like the bones can shift and her whole face just morphs into some more craziness while you're watching. As she shakily points the gun at Layfayette and he's doing everything he can think of to bullshit her into letting him out the door, she pops a cap in his ass. Well, not really his ass. It's his leg. But either way, he's screwed. And he knows it. Now all he can to do is lie all pitiful like on the couch in Eric's office, while Pam smirks at him and Chow paces the floor like a lion who knows a huge sirloin is within reach but has to wait for the straw boss to show up before he can dive into it. Like I said, Layfayette knows he's royally screwed, but he has no idea how completely shitty this evening is about to turn into. For soon he's about to become....I can only describe it as a flashback to a time I was at the KFC buffett and a college football team dropped in.

While some really crazy, black eyed, epileptic on crack dancing is going on at Merlotte's, curtesy of Maryanne, Sookie and Jessica arrive at the Hamby home. Jessica is really heart-tugging here. She's been crying bloody tears and is so homesick. Sookie feels really bad about how the shit went down between Jessica and the vampire turning thing, so she agrees to drive Jessica to see her home one last time. But before Sookie knows what fucked her blind and has time to react, Jessica is out of the car and at the front door, all super vampire-fast like. Actually, she kinda looks like me at the buy-one-get-one-free sale at Bruster's Ice Cream. I can move pretty fast when I need to. Uh oh. Sookie's really peed in her chilli now. She's in Big Trouble and she knows it. Things begin to tumble downhill faster than a fat man on a ski slope wearing greasy ski's as Jessica turns her vampire wrath on her father whom, I assume, was rather fond of what we use to refer to as the attitude adjuster. Just as she's about to rip open his neck, the front door is flung off by none other than the most pissed off vampire I've ever seen. Daddy Warbucks is on the warpath. AND BOY, IS HE REALLY PISSED!

SHE WORE A PEARL NECKLACE AFTER DOING THE TUBE SNAKE BOOGIE - AND HE WUVS HER!

The highly anticipated premier of True Blood's second season had me, like other good True Blood friends, virtually squeeing and heheing all over the place. Luckily, the cable didn't go on the fritz and the show started on time or else my chair would have gotten rather messy, what with me squeeing and heheing all over the place. And what a screaming start it was. Literally. I'm not real sure which of our two Bon Temps gals can scream the loudest, Sookie or Tara, but one thing I am sure of. Tara wins the twisted, let's-hope-it-don't-come-a-freeze face contest, hands down. She really knows how to throw her face into something.....else.... while laying down a blood curdler. I am speaking, of course, of Miz Voodoo Chile and her slight return. Or the heartless one. Yeah, I know. I'm not being very reverent of the dead. But damn, Miss Jeanette, you did Tara wrong by taking her money not once, but two times. That'll learn ya about them ill gotten gains.

Meanwhile, Sam uses this dead-body-in-my-parking-lot as another golden opportunity to hang out next to Sookie, looking all Sad Sack and pitiful, while trying his best to let Sookie know, yet again, just how much he's so not over her. And would someone PLEASE tie Andy Bellafluer to the bumper of a car? While it's moving? Please? About five minutes of watching a clearly distraught Tara being verbally abused by this lout while taking her turn sitting in the Jason Stackhouse hot seat down at the local hoosegow is about all I can take.

OMG! It's Lafayette! He's alive! Well, sorta. And he's in some sort of vampire version of Dante's Inferno, all chained up while some white folk take turns shitting in a big bucket, sorta like what drywall mud comes in. This made me put the hairy eyeball on my new white toilet with a whole new level of fan sized appreciation. Ya'll, some things is jes' wrong, and I do believe this is one of them. No....not the chained up white folk, but having to shit in a drywall bucket. And I did not see any Charmin for them to use. This is just soooo nasty and violates several major health codes for a public establishment. But somehow I don't think the lucky folks staying in Eric's Scenic Hideaway are going to complain very much. And poor Lafayette has been reduced to holding out his tongue, all pitiful like, desperately hoping for a drop of water from some nasty looking rusted overhead iron beam. Which turns out to taste as vile as I figured it would. I'll bet some of Eddie's Merlot would really hit the spot right about now, hey Mr. Entrepreneur? But Eric's not quite through, for he's got more good shit to lay down. For low and behold, what have we here! Why, it's Mr. Garlic Press himself! Being dragged down the stairs by some big bald headed goon wearing a dark suit, while making all kinds of noise and in general being a loud pain in the ass. And just when Layfayette thought his day (or night) just couldn't get any worse, well guess what? It's worse. But look on the bright side, Layfayette. You two can hold hands and take a trip down memory lane. At least until Eric comes off the spool and rips off an arm from Mr. Aids Burger.

Soon we are at the home of Bill and Sookie Plus One. Just in time to see PYT (pretty young thing) wrapped in a very thick, nice towel (the kind you would snag from the Waldorf Astoria) as she hangs over the balcony and announces to a" I'm in some deep shit now" looking Bill and a bumfuckled looking Sookie that she just "loves your showah". Sookie, remember back a few weeks ago, when you threw down on Bill and recinded his invite? He tried to tell you. But you just wouldn't have none of it. Maybe next time you will listen. But probably not. But it's just the way life is. When some bad shit happens and you think maybe you should tell that significant other, but you just never do get around to it ,then finally figure why rock the boat, that sometimes those things can come back to bite you in the ass. Bill, consider your ass bitten.

Of course, there's some boring ass shit going on with Jason and the FOTS. I can tell this storyline is going to annoy the pigpiss outta me. I'm already tired of Steve Newlin, his Stepford wife and his crap in general. Maybe because I run into him and his ilk on a daily basis. I actually felt pity as our Jethro Bodine looking Jason in his plaid buttoned to the neck shirt, tries desperately to look like he really knows 1.) what the fuck they are talking about. 2.) why the fuck they are talking about it in the first place 3.) what any of this has to do with the price of eggs. 4.) how soon he can find a hot chick to nail in the storage room of the chapel.

What's up with Carl? For some reason he makes me think of Goldfinger's OddJob. And I'll bet he throws a mean-ass bowler hat. Maybe, after that awesome smack down by Maryanne, the bowler will be thrown at her head. And Sam - all I can say is AWE! Just AWE! What a cute, adorable little beagle pup you were. And did no one ever tell you not to pick up other people's valuable shit? Take that strange looking statue at Maryanne's crib. I don't know exactly what it was, but one thing I know for sure. It's expensive. Very expensive. Haven't you ever seen that sign that use to hang in our local dime store? "It's pretty to look at, it's nice to hold. But if you break it, we mark it SOLD." Words to live by Sam. See, I am extremely qualified to chide you on this one. Cause I broke more than my share of trinkety shit at the local five and ten.

*Sniff, sniff*. I swear, just when I wanna slap some sense into Sookie, there she goes and makes me cry. When she went into Gran's room, I swear I was nuttin' but a mass of snot and tears. That is until she picked up that cardboard box and cut her finger. All I could think of was Arlene saying "Bet Vampire Bill would get a rise outta that". Then to top it off, outta the blue here comes an older version of Pee Wee Herman to see Sookie about Uncle Bartlett, the local pedophile, and his guilt money. When that strange looking little dude with the bowtie started talking, I stopped crying. Cause he really freaked me out. Oh well. Sookie doesn't want the child molesting uncle's money, so she does the next best thing with it. She gives it to Jason so he can attend the vampire killin' camp.

Oh yes, we're back at poolside. Great weather, great tropical fruit, even better weed, and a seasoned bullshitter in a lovely, black Grecian dress. What could be better? Maryanne is feeding Tara and Eggs so much shit that frankly I'm surprised they have any room at all for those kumquats. And the most important part? NOBODY NEEDED TOWELS. See Carl, you royally screwed up Maryanne's plans to have Eggs and Tara fuckin' poolside in five minutes or less.

Soon we are back at Merlottes as the waitress who's down to her last straw - or rather last nail - Arlene , convinces Sam to hire this new girl, Daphne. Who's mama is half Cajun. Which means either she can make some mean ass crawfish pie or can play the accordian like a muthafucker. Or maybe she's.....something else? Oh yes. Sam definately needs another crazy, strange, ain't-what-she-seems female in his life. Wonder if she vibrates ?

Meanwhile, back in Eric's Love Shack, our poor Layfayette is playing Dr. Phil to one Royce Alan Williams as he reminesces about having his wee little knob blown while at Camp Safety Patrol. You too, huh? Some things don't change, I reckon. It was a camp tradition around here. Royce, if getting blown by another boy was the worst thing you could think of to confess to Layfayette, then guess what? You're about to have something even more mind-blowing (or dick blowing) to put in your yesterday's diary. Cause guess what! Here come the big bad sheriff of area five! And he's a coming' for you! He's gonna be all over you like stink on shit. Or the shit bucket. Whichever. No? You say you've got something up your sleeve to take care of his nibs? And there's gonna be Big Trouble? You've got a silver cross? Why, you little rascal you. Yeah, that'll teach those cocky vampires to mess with the best. Oops! Guess it didn't work. KIDNEY anyone? Can I give YOU A HAND with that? How about a LEG up? Or maybe an ARM to go around your shoulder.

Just when we thought things couldn't get much funner, we are back at Daddy Compton's as he and the apple of his eye are having their own vampire version of a wine tasting party. And here, blowing through the door like another Louisiana hurricane, is our own purple-eyed Bitchinator. And she's pissed. Again. After kissing ass and smoozing Jessica into retiring for a spell into that hole in the floor, Sookie once again turns her wrathful purple eye upon our Nervous Nellie Bill. I just loved the way he was was acting all jovial , trying like a randy little shitmonkey to be all carefree and casual, hoping against hope that he wasn't knee keep in the do-do again. He shoulda known. Once again, Sookie's all up in Bill's shit about knocking off her perverted Uncle Bartlett. *yawn*. Get over it Sookie. Bill is a VAMPIRE. He's gonna have the occasional slip and send a human or three to deadsville. Don't take it so personal. After all, if Uncle Bartlett hadn't croaked, how would Jason have gotten the money to attent vampire killer camp? See, everything happens for a reason and no good deed ever goes unpunished. How many times must I tell you this? Anyhoo, back to Sookie's massive throw down on Bill. Except......Bill gets all sad and weepy. I just wanted to take him in my arms and take his beautiful head and maybe push it down onto my lap.........oops, getting a little off topic here.......but damn Sookie! He might not have said he was sorry, but he is. Get over it already. And anyhow Sookie, maybe you haven't noticed this one little thing about yourself. Whenever someone dies, for some reason it makes you hornier than a West Pac sailor on shore leave. See a dead body? Oh please Bill, please nail me. Gran dies? Oh please Bill, do it, I want you to. Uncle Bartlett is dead? Well hell, how fast can we get to your bedroom Bill? Sookie, I don't think you need to go work for Mike the coroner. You'll fuck yourself to death before Christmas. 'Jes sayin'.

SWEET TORMENT

I am a present focused person. Which means I want to enjoy my pleasure now. It makes no sense to wait until tomorrow what can be enjoyed today. Who knows? I could be stretched out under a red dirt coverlette by tomorrow, so let me have my fun today. Of course, that makes waiting for something as wonderful and exciting as the new season of True Blood that much more of a challenge. I awaken each morning reciting the countdown. "Thirteen more mornings to awaken before my eyes can once again be graced to his beauty, twelve more days before my eyes"......you get the picture. For me, it's like a delicious torment. I find myself flipping through the many HBO channels I have on my lineup, hoping to get a glimpse of one of the delicious promos we have been treated to. For me, it's like cranial foreplay. I feel the tingle begin as Bob Dylan rasps "Oh well I love you pretty baby" and doesn't let up until I feel the final tingle hit the tips of my toes. Ah yes, it is a sweet torment.

If I were Joan Baez, I would write such a song about that wonderful man, Stephen Moyer, with eyes bluer than robin's eggs. Each time we are treated to a new photograph of him, in all his beautiful glory, each time we see the briefest of clips of him that foreshadow promises of the delights of a new season, we collapse into a satisfied heap, as we revel in the afterglow of orgasmic joy. With frenzied obcession, we sit, hands gripping the arms of our chairs as we wait with the anticipation of a new bride, for something- anything - that will assauge the aching need we feel to see him. Are we all nuts? Probably. But it's a nuttiness that we, as Billsbabes, are all to proud to be afflicted with. We desire no cure. All we do desire is more explosure to that sweet torment known as True Blood and Mr. William Thomas Compton.

The clock has struck midnight. Seven more days................

P.S. Isn't that beautiful image of Mr. Moyer to die for? If you're curious as to where I found it, then just follow the link to Sunlight On Your Skin. You'll be spellbound!

The Adventures of Sookie and Her Magic Nookie

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Sookie.  She was like no other little girl.  For Sookie had magic powers.  She could hear what people were thinking.  But her other talent was much more special.  Sookie was born with a magic nookie.

Sookie lived in a town called Bon Temps.  She lived with her Gran and her brother Jason.  

Sometimes Sookie was very sad.  None of the other children wanted to play with her.  They called her names.  One day a new girl named Tara came to Sookie's school.  Tara was sad too.  No one wanted to play with her either.  Sookie asked Tara to be her special friend.  Tara was happy to be Sookie's friend.  

Sookie and Tara grew up and then they went to work at the same place.  It was a bar and grill called Merlotte's.  Sookie like to work at Merlotte's.  She met many interesting people.  

One night  a strange and handsome man came into Merlotte's.   Sookie's magic nookie knew there was something very special about this man.  He was a vampire.  His name was Bill.  Sookie thought it was very funny that his name was Bill.  Everytime Sookie was around Bill, her magic nookie would  talk to her and tell her about all the things that she should do so that her magic nookie would stay happy.  

One night Sookie came home and saw that someone had murdered her Gran.  She was very sad. Her magic nookie talked to her and told her how to get glad again.   It told her to put on her Stevie Nicks dress and she and her magic nookie should go visit Bill.  Bill was very happy to see Sookie.  He was even more happy to see her magic nookie.  He was so happy that he showed Sookie his fangs.  They were very sharp.  

Bill and Sookie's magic nookie went on a very special trip.  Sookie's magic nookie had never been on such a trip.  It made her so happy that she wanted to take this trip again and again.  Bill had even more fun than Sookie.  He decided that he would take Sookie's magic nookie on as many trips as he could.  He decided he wanted to travel everyday.

Other men wanted to take Sookie's magic nookie on a trip as well. 

 Sam, the man that Sookie worked for, wanted to take the magic nookie on a very long trip.  But Sookie would not let him. Sam was very sad.  He decided to take Tara's nookie on a trip, but it was not a magic nookie.  Sam decided he would stay sad.  

One night Sookie met another vampire named Eric.  Eric knew that Sookie had a magic nookie.  Eric wanted to take Sookie's magic nookie on a very, very, very long trip.  Bill did not want Eric to take Sookie's nookie on a trip.  Eric decided that he would not give up.  After all, it's not everyday that you meet someone with a magic nookie.