Recently

I really want to knock the pictures of me from eleventh grade off my front page, but my life currently consists of random shit I am watching, unless you want to talk about my singing lessons, in which case I am struggling to maintain support in between crippling bouts of acid reflux. Seriously. How the fuck do I even get acid reflux? I have the blandest diet ever. I like turkey sandwiches on white bread, regular Miniwheats, and, when available, sheet cake. I ate an apple yesterday and started to regurgitate it. What the fuck? Between yesterday and a night in college that involved a bottle of Mango Absolut immediately followed by tequila shots, I can tell you vomiting an apple, completely or partially, is not right. The texture does not lend itself well.

I just Googled vomiting to look for a synonym, and apparently “fecal vomiting” is a thing. Where your intestines back up into your stomach and you puke out your mouth and/or nose. Good times.

So for shit I have been watching/listening to, it’s BB seaaasson. I’ve watched every season of Big Brother and I’m not stopping now. This season seems incredibly reactionary in nature. Pretty much everyone was a fucking racist asshole last year, and CBS seems like they sought to guard their legal defense fund by casting the incredibly tolerant. Seriously, it’s the season of platonic cuddling. Everyone is spooning, male, female, gay, straight. There is nothing that warms the cockles of my heart more than Caleb, the self-proclaimed “Beast-Mode Cowboy” an ex-military, pro-hunting, ripped-ass stereotypical straight white dude from the South, snuggling up to Frankie, the loud-and-proud, glitter-encrusted ex-Broadway star from New York. No awkwardness, no sense that it’s forced, just a couple friends full body contact chilling in a Hollywood backlot, shooting the shit about whether they’d choose classic BB punishment a week of “slop” or a chance to spend a couple hours of uninterrupted making out in a room “full of chicks and a dude for Frankie.”

To clarify, it’s not just Caleb & Frankie who have a cuddlemance, it is everyone. Frankie and Zach, the straight, golf-obsessed Floridian bro, who seems half-young Republican and half nerd who recovered after they got hot, have largely been the ‘relationship’ of the season. There’s been bed sharing and massages and romance movie full-lift spin hugs, all while these dudes are presumably romantically uninterested in each other. There’s also been Cody, the could-be Seventeen model with the blue eyes of a Siberian Husky, who’s been pressed against every girl in the house including Christine (married), Nicole (showmance with another houseguest), and Jocasta (a Pastor). Pretty impressive.

I’m also fucking obsessed with this new show on Animal Planet (stay with me) called The Supervet. It’s a documentary series about this hot ass Irish veterinarian, Noel Fitzpatrick, who runs a state-of-the-art practice in the English countryside. Each episode highlights the animals that come into Dr. Fitzpatrick’s office, which is presented as the sort of end-of-the-line, “miracle”-working practice for the worst possible cases. You get to know the animals and their owners, and watch Dr. Fitzpatrick and his staff as they attempt to find novel solutions to treat very serious injuries. This series is obviously not American, because there is way too much restraint, and it is executed far too carefully. Which is a blessing, because this show does not require heavy-handed editing or hysterical soundbites to drive you into an overwhelming case of the feels. Dr. Fitzpatrick seems like a very unique human being, and I’m not just saying that because I would totally bang him. He is a very interesting contrast between straight-forward, no-nonsense authoritativeness and incredible, incredible compassion. The first episode I saw, which featured a Thai street dog that had survived a machete attack, showed Dr. Fitzpatrick retiring to the tiny room with the tiny bed and the tiny rack of clothes he had carved out for himself in his office after a long night of surgery. I think anyone who loves animals, or just wants to witness how someone cope’s with the constant demand for innovation under crippling pressure should give an episode of this a chance. It’s not a fluffy cutesy show like a lot of what is on Animal Planet. It reminds me a lot of Boston Med, if anyone remembers that, or Emergency Vets if you also didn’t have friends in middle school

Also Loveline has been putting a bunch of their old shows up for free download. I’ve always lived on the East Coast and never in a city with a syndicate (except for the two seconds The Edge carried it before I moved) so I’ve been majorly binge-listening. The other day I listened to an episode where Mike Carano talked about hating Mrs. Doubtfire so much that he carried around his ticket stub for ten years, claiming that if he ever got the chance to meet Robin Williams he would demand his $8 back. Apparently one day he did meet Robin Williams in a hotel lobby, but Robin Williams was so nice he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

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