7.30.00 - 00:22:44
Eddie (to George):
If ya like, knock a beah can ovah, ya got a hooptie, but if ya, like, don't knock a beah can ovah, ya don't gotta hooptie, got it? I'm gonna lift now, but when the beah gets cold, we'ah gonna do hoopties, aight?
Lift
Hoooooooof
Lift
Hooooooooooof
Lift
HooooooooooooooofHey, what's this shit in the bucket?
George (ostensibly to a chicken):
Bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck
Bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck
Bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck
Enter Josh:
Wassssssssup?
Eddie:
Gimme five minutes there Josh, the beah's chillin' and I'm liftin'.
George (I have not yet determined if the chicken is talking back, but George doesn't seem to mind):
Bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck
Bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck
Bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck bruck
Saturday night with Big Brother.
I'm pretty sure it gets better than this, but I keep missing action like illegal tennis balls being thrown into the "compound" and Jordan having sex with Josh. I sort of have this thing called a life and I'm just not able to keep up. It's driving me nuts.
I know you're asking yourself right about now, "Sweet Jesus, Gracie, what are you doing?"
You see, I had this nasty cold when it all started. I was in bed, alone, with nothing but a laptop, network television and a bottle of Nyquil. The Big Brother URL was a seductive tranquilizer and soothed me when the Nyquilada'sTM failed. CBS roped me in. It was the devil's work, I tell you. IT'S NOT MY FAULT!
Now that I'm better and I have Italian classes, book groups, work, guitar classes, movies with friends, Ravinia dates, poetry slams at the Green Mill, Grimace and Mayor McCheese glasses to purchase at Quake, diaries to write, friends coming in from out of town. I feel overloaded. How can I possibly keep up with reality shows AND maintain my normal, uneventful and untelevised life?
I can't.
Something's got to go.
Okay CBS, I'll give up out of town friends (sorry Shay), Italian, guitar, and Ravinia. These don't seem to me to be unreasonable sacrifices. In fact, for a glimpse of Karen stepping barefoot in chicken shit, I'd even give up Mayor McCheese.
