
Since I'm a tan, svelte, real-or-fake West Coast Boy now, I'm trying to figure out how to watch both the initial broadcast on the East Coast, then get back home to catch the rebroadcast on Pacific time. See, people, this is why we need supersonic jetpacks. (Yes, I could TiVo the broadcast and watch it over and over and over, but I prefer the old-fashioned jetpack strategy. Good enough for Connery, good enough for me).
Put the kids to bed, open a bottle of wine, and enjoy the fruits of The Digital Age. Wives, girlfriends, dominatrices beware.
P.S. Jesus, I almost forgot to mention it's been exactly 79 years since the last state ratified the 21st amendment to our constitution (Utah, not surprisingly, was the holdout. Way to go, Utah). Remember this tonight while you're watching semi-nude women prance up and down a trippy little stage. Ahhh we're just like the Romans. Many of you, no doubt, will be dressed in Togas. I know I will. Ego diligo pectus quod imbibo!!
Yes, there's no other excuse for watching this show -- we tune in for the skin, which is usually found beneath the awkward, floppy wings or [insert animal limb names here]. The catalog is different. Caught in mid-read, someone *might* accept the excuse that our girlfriend needs a new teddy! Unlike the catalog, which confuses me with its numbers and sizes, item codes and frilly descriptions, I can actually concentrate on the "skin-at-hand" during the live action show. Which is nice. Prolly miss it tonight, though. I'm going to try and have real s3x with a real woman.
ReplyDeletewish me luck.
Yea, someday I should try and work that one out for myself. Plus I don't have cable, and CBS doesn't come throgh that well. I'll think I'm looking at Giselle Bundchen in a sexy red camisole, and it turns out to be Jack Palance with a gut shot.
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