Eric Ash, I'm talking to YOU.
First up, everyone send your positive thoughts, over to the Elvis Twin, because Middle Kitty is still out there somewhere and needs to come home, now. (no, really, right now, MK. We're not kidding.)I hope MK comes home, safely and soon.
We now return you to the selfish bitching portion of the blog, already in progress.
OK.
Believe it or not, despite the ranting and raving on this blog, I am generally a mild-mannered, sweet-tempered person. Mainly, because I vent my spleen in here. Aside from rightfully earned anger, I'm not so much of a bitch. In fact, usually only 2 things will turn me into a snarling, hate-filled, if-you-thought-PMS-was-bad..., watch-me-rip-out-your-soul-with-just-a-look, hydra-headed bitch.
1. A lack of sleep
2. Not eating
Yes, I know I'm an infant.
Thursday night I got about half the usual amount of sleep I get. My frozen lunch didn't cut it, and so by 4:30 Friday afternoon I was a very bitchy, very hungry, very tired ball of hate. (You know the kind of tired and frustrated where it feels like there are ants and hornets doing some kind of tango directly beneath your skin? Mix that with a heavy dose of "fuck off" and you've got it.) By Friday at 9:30, I managed to finally fall asleep. At 11:45, a Mr. Eric Ash of Some-fucking-where in motherfuckin' Hawaii called my house. And let the phone ring. And ring. And ring. And woke. My ass. UP.
Then through a combination of events, (namely Monk -separate rant to follow-, Evil skritching a plastic bag, Evil demanding to be petted, skritching the plastic bag again, Evil leaping onto my bladder, Evil balancing all 13 of her pounds on her front paws which were directly on top of my boobs, getting up to suffocate the cat with the plastic bag-or maybe just moving it out of her reach, and wearing Evil on my head) I didn't fall asleep till after 2:00 this morning. AND STILL WOKE UP BY 7AM. Fuck.
So. Eric Ash, of Some-fucking-where in motherfuckin' Hawaii, who couldn't be bothered to leave a "dude, sorry, wrong number, aloha" on my voicemail. Someday I am coming to some-fucking-where in motherfuckin' Hawaii, and I am going to let Evil bug the shit out of you while YOU'RE trying to get back to sleep after I wake your ass up in the middle of the night.
Dick.
Monk.
OK. New Season, new "assistant", and apparently new writers.
I loved Monk. I loved the writing, I loved Tony Shalloub. I loved Bitty Schramm. I love saying "Leland Stottlemyer" over and over again. The guy who plays Randy is cute. I loved almost everything about the show except for the stupid Randy Newman theme song,(but I hate everything about Randy Newman anyway so, par for the course)and the fact that it comes on so late on a Friday night.
I was bummed when they gave Bitty the axe, but just because you change one of the main characters doesn't mean that the show will automatically suck, right?
*sigh*
G. Monkey and I were discussing the show (she's a pack of wipes and a short haircut away from being able to BE Monk)and why it seems to have gone so far downhill.
In previous seasons Monk was called onto cases that were, in a manner of speaking, unsolveable. In this season, he "stumbled across" every freaking case. (note: I missed the first few minutes of last night's episode, so this may be incorrect, but if they did it for all the other episodes...)Not to mention the fact that the cases have been ridiculous, and the endings telegraphed from before the first commercial break. I suppose I should have known when they explained Sharona's absence with "She remarried her ex and moved to New Jersey", when they finished the season with reinforcing that would NEVER happen...
And yes, I'm getting too silly about a TV show, but dangit, I make a point of watching exactly 3 shows.
1. Monk
2. CSI
3. Law & Order (and that's not even the new ones. I can't remember when new eps are on, so I watch the syndicated ones.)
It's kind of sad when your favorite show jumps the shark. I didn't even want to watch last night's episode, but it was the only thing on (with the exception of a rerun of Saturday Night Live from 1998, and I did try watching that, but it sucked harder than Monk did).
*sigh*
And because I hope he googles his name- Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash, Eric Ash.
Jerk.
2 Comments:
If you need a foreign hit man to take care of this problem, all you need to do is buy me a ticket to Hawaii *nods*
Randy Newman's theme for Overboard with Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn embodies everything that was neon and bouncy about the 80's. I like it.
I can't speak about anything else of his.
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