I Googled NyQuil because I'm sick with a cold—miserably sick!—and that's what came up. Apparently women who abuse NyQuil don't own razors. And they also ask their lovers to snap nude photos of themselves slugging it back.
So.Hot.
Anyway, last night, I got nice and doped up on NyQuil myself, but it was much more B rated. I put on my pajamas. Grabbed my lozenges, tissues and July's issue of Glamour magazine. Turned on the TV. Falalala. And omigawd without any warning there was a man having sex with a cow heart that was hooked up to electrodes. He was pumping away! Omigaaaaaaaaawd!
I thought, Surely this must be a joke. Surely the networks wouldn't just air shows like this on normal TV. But no, it was a show called "1000 ways to die." The episode was called "Heart on." (How clever.)
Ok, this is where I grab my voluminous granny underwear and sail them across the sky. What the fuck happened to sitcoms and television shows that provided entertainment without the bloody sadistic bullshit? I am so flippin' tired of turning on the television and seeing someone shot to death or raped or raped and then shot to death. I'm scared to do the click-through at night.
Scared!
I want the FCC to revamp the system, and I want them to do it now. I even have some ideas. Channels 1-25 can be non-bloody shows. Channel 26 can be bloody shows. Channels 27-29 can be cooking shows. There should be no sports channels. Channels 30-100 can be male improvement shows. The pet people can have channel 101. Oh, and to satiate America's hunger for teen porn, shows like "Smallville" and MTV's "Real World" can have channel 69.
Brilliant, I know.
P.S. In case you missed this month's issue of Glamour and were dying to know the "Real Women's Orgasm Secrets," I'll save you the $3.99. Here are their three steps to an amazing orgasm:
1. Breathe right (i.e., pant like a dog, because nothing's sexier than that)
2. Put a heating pad on your pelvis pre-sex (mmmm, nothing turns men on like a flesh-colored nightie jimmied out of a heating pad) and
3. Straighten your legs as he...um...makes his initial plunge and then move around a lot (I advise yelling, "Geronimo" and then bucking like a bronco with a hot poker in its ass).
Ladies, get busy!
