Oh My, Oh My, Oh My.
I love TV. One of my secrets. I love TV. I'm a fan of the season long TV drama. Like Private Practice. And Grey's Anatomy.
I also like an occasional dose of reality TV. I'm done with Survivor. A couple of seasons was plenty. I'm done with The Amazing Race. I don't like to see people bicker at each other. I'm also done with The Bachelor (and The Bachelorette.) First of all, barring Trista & Ryan . . I'm not sure it's possible. I'm a fan of committment and monogamy based in trust and honesty. Knowing that your "love interest" is macking on another girl in a hot tub . . . . nope. That's where I draw the line. Couldn't put myself out there like that. No way, no how. So, thank goodness I'm not a bachelorette.
I'm rambling . . . .
So, let me get back to point: Momma's Boys. Crikey . . . are you watching? I'm riveted. I'm dumbfounded by the shallow mindedness. I'm horrified at the heartbreak. I'm speechless at the stupidity.
In summary . . . Momma's Boys are these 3 sad, lost, ball-less babies whose mothers have coddled them and wiped their butts long into adulthood. Now, the momma's want to choose wives for their sons. And the show is about this slew of supermodel quality women who all want to be involved with these nancy-boys. I'm horrified.
Anyone who dares marry JoJo . . . . eek. I'm making that face.
I'm hoping JoJo grows a set, stands up to momma . . and had the foresight to get Misty's number.
Eek, more to come on this, surely . . . because I'm lost in thought over it. Honestly.