In downtown Honolulu, we are watching Fast Six, the follow-up to Vin Diez-uh-l’s comedic genius Fast Five, only without Vin which — basically — is the exact same thing.
Sidebar: Have any of you seen Fast Five? Because he is HORRIBLE, y’all. Like, so bad, it might even kill The FOY and it’s perpetual b0ner. Better yet is that there’s a part where he’s all something like “your mistake is thinking that we’re in Umerikuh. WE’RE IN BWAZEEL!” B.tch thinks he’s some journo pronouncing Brazil like a local, only a retarded one. NO! H8! I LOVE YOU BWAZEEL!! CALL ME!!
Back to Show. The awesome Dukes of Hazard car hauls it to the shipyard and someone narrating says they need containment around the perimeter. Then somehow, all of the Useless Coppers must start running around on foot, crackin’ open more pods borrowed from The Wire.
Oh, it’s “How’s it” DUKE!! HI DUKE!!
Each pod opens up to a gorgeous car and all men audience members squirted themselves silly and fell asleep in under 3 minutes. No cuddles.
A leaky mummy is found dead in the trunk of one of the cars. Audience to deduce it is Mubarak. DEDUCED!!
(Solidarity with #Jan25, yo!)
Hawaii sings, and I should let you know that I am cranky and generally annoyed today.
At McG Shangri La, omh oh oh hi.
Hi Steven, finally sleeping NOT in a burka.
He takes the pillow and covers The FOY
because there is a FUCUP lurking in the corner weeping and sucking her thumb.
F-ck you, Steven, already. TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS, MATE.
Anyhoo. He is awakened by the sound of the telly. Naturally, because Show is a wee bit formulaic, Daniel must now be bunking at his. McG puts on a shirt, because he hates us, and makes his way down to turn off said telly.
Daniel is beneath the covers, the only human being in the world not to love the sound of the ocean. Was Daniel born in a cabbage? Ocean is so soothing. OCEAN!! CALL ME!!
Sidebar: I often mistake the sound of traffic for Ocean. I kid you not; next time you hear far away traffic, tell yourself that it’s Ocean and you’ll hear what I mean. This is the same power by which I have convinced myself that as soon as Alex O’Loughlin tramples onto Sardonic, he shall want to annihilate my girl bit and plant his seed. Honest.
McG and Daniel have a lover’s quarrel that I don’t give a sh/t about because Alex O’Loughlin just sat back, plucked his legs up and splayed. Next time I have trouble sleeping, I will count FUCUPs jumping through his thighs, to land on The FOY.
Here are some of Steven’s 1,472 rules:
- No telly after midnight, unless it’s p0rn.
- No shower longer than three minutes. Because what in the fk?
- Nair your chest hair.
- Fk a woman until she can’t catch her breath.
- Never colour co-ordinate.
- No SPAM.
Hey McG, I only have one rule at my place: To enter, you must remove your pants.
A phone call to move the plot forward. I guess this is Show’s only option. Until it creates, like Batman, a cut out of The FOY which it shines into the night sky to attract McG and The 5-0s.