I’m watching CourtTV.
I know. It’s a disease. First, it’s the American small-claims court programs, now it’s CourtTV. I can’t explain it. I probably need help.
So anyway, I’m watching CourtTV, and they have, of course, a courtside reporter talking about the testimony in the court case we’ve just seen. You know, one of those reporters who have to be really good at watching things and then talking about what they’ve just watched. The kind of person you HATE to have at movie nights because they’re always chattering on about how “this is my favourite part! The woman in the hallway looks down the stairs – RIGHT THERE! – and she sees that the carpet isn’t where it’s supposed to be. It’s quite revealing.”
Or, worse yet, “Did you notice that in that scene we just watched, the woman looked down the stairs and notices that the carpet isn’t where it was supposed to be? That indicated to me that the woman either suspected someone …or someTHING, ha ha ha, was in the house with her, OR, more likely, that she was overcome with guilt at having had a quarrel with her daughter earlier in the night.”
No popcorn for you, sister.
Anyhow, so I don’t know if this reporter actually went to school for repotery, or if she got her microphone at the bottom of a Cracker Jacks box, but she’s wearing enough makeup that I couldn’t tell what nationality she is, or even if she has any actual skin. And while the flags behind her were flapping away in the wind, her hair **did not move**. I find that extremely disturbing.
So you KNOW that she smells like hairspray and perfume. And that she uses scented products in her laundry.
“Where is this going, cenobyte?” you’re asking. “It’s your own damned fault if you choose to watch CourtTV.”
It is! I know! You’re right! But stay with me for a minute here.
So she starts flapping her hands in front of her face as she’s relating what’s just happened in the courtroom in case you missed that segment. Then she starts twitching, flipping her
helmet hair around all over the place. Perhaps ‘flipping’ isn’t the right word….
Anyway, she is apparently beset by a plague of locusts. Or a mystery of noseeums (which has GOT to be the very best word for ‘little tiny biting insects’ ever), or a scratch of mosquitoes, or a herd of flies or something. And I’m thinking “That woman probably smells like a buffet for every insect within twenty miles, and she probably doesn’t even realise why.”
On a completely unrelated note, the next time I have a party, I want to invite the ShamWOW/SlapChop guy in attendance. He has a HEADSET, people. A headset. Also, he says the stupidest things ever. “You’re going to love my nuts” always makes me grin. And he’s a complete letch. I always imagine that before “Vince” (apparently that’s his name) landed this sweet, sweet job as the most annoying infomercial guy ever (the OxyClean guy died, apparently), he was some dirty street kid pickpocketing and smoking butt-rollies, swearing at the people who had money and didn’t know what to do with it.