Cable Television Is A Dumpster Of Insanity, But Making Surgery Recovery Tolerable
You may have noticed a dramatic decrease in the amount of Clager in your Pajiba diet. First, I am so sorry for your loss. Second, I had a fairly invasive and kind of frightening surgery nearly a week ago and Dustin prefers his writers not be under the murky influence of opioids while writing. Unless we drop some Hunter S. Thompson writing magic, that is.
Instead of dropping magic or coherent sentences, I’ve been watching lots of cable television during the day. Hours of it. Help me.
Every patient on this show is a fame skag who thinks they are amazing and that fixing their terrible plastic surgery will make everything awesome.
One woman has a butt stomach, so she keeps healing crystals in her bra to help. The crystals will totally help — once she has the plastic surgery to fix the front butt. There are shriveled breasts, noses on the brink of collapse, lips gone wild, and other cosmetic surgery nightmares. Thoughtfully, the people seeking help from Dr. Dubrow and Dr. Nassif have lovely nicknames like “Pig Nose” and “Butt Tummy”.
Then there’s the fellow who wants to be an alien and finds himself so edgy and cool. Or the woman who had injections in her face that resulted in huge lumps all over her visage. So many people travel to Mexico for plastic surgery and then cry because it was actually caulk and horse semen and not Botox being injected into their wherever.
The most inane thing about the series is the justifications and delusional thinking the patients give for wanting things fixed. One woman wants her wonky breasts fixed so she can teach her daughters to love their bodies, which is not how that works. Another ass got breast implants for a bet, which E! has no problem showing without blurring, as it is a male rack and not child-scarring lady boobs.
Keeping Up With the Kardashians
I know, shut up. However, I can zone in and out and miss nothing. This is especially true for the “classic” episodes E! runs for hours upon hours every day. You have the awkward courtship of Kim and Kris Humphries and then the lead-in to Kanye. You get asshole Scott, slightly less asshole Scott, super asshole Scott, etc. There’s also pre-Tyga Kylie and pre-Caitlyn Bruce. Seeing Bruce and knowing Caitlyn now opens up a whole new world of imagined pre-cognizance and signs.
It’s pretty great, actually.
Watch for my in-depth theory in the coming weeks, complete with charts, about what exactly happened to the Kylie of 2014. The voice, the butt, the face shape, the personality. I will cover it all. If I remember.
It’s very simple. The show chooses two litters of puppies or kittens to follow as they grow. They name the babies and even create a narrative involving some of them. It’s like a reality show, but for pets.
It’s nice and relaxing to watch kittens learn to climb things or wobbly Dobermans barrel around a yard. It’s a little insane to listen to the narrator ascribe situational relevance to a kitten swatting at things or falling on its butt.
How It’s Made
The amount of time, effort, and craft involved in making a rifle is jaw-dropping. The precise testing of whistles that determines whether they are crushed to be remade or sent out to customers is mind-boggling.
Over the course of hours, you can listen to a monotone narrator tell you how things like kayaks are made. Maybe you want to see what goes into that frozen cheesecake you keep for emergency late-night gossip sessions. Fake eyeballs, RVs, cowboy hats, computer components, or guitars: How It’s Made has you covered on all counts.
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