If You're Gleeful And You Know It

It's been a while since I blogged about Glee, ladies and gentlemen. This is pretty much because I've stopped watching it - the Cublet recently moved to England and only visits occasionally, and short of chaining Wetsoks to the radiator there is absolutely no way I could convince her to stay in a room with it playing on the TV. I do have other friends, but I prefer that they think of me as suave and debonair (which they almost certainly do not) and not a Glee fan. Thus it was on this surprisingly sunny Wednesday morning, when I emailed the Cublet in a lather of excitement.

Me: Have you heard the Glee cover of 'Love Song'?

Cublet: No. I've stopped caring since I saw Pitch Perfect. It brought home how shit Glee actually is.

Me: Well 'Love Song' isn't bad. It's Santana, Rachel and Quinn. It would have been better if they'd taken Quinn out though. And, er, Rachel. Santana kills it. I miss the way she doesn't overwarble a song.

Cublet: I've heard there is a Quinn/Santana kiss coming up.

Me: What? You're kidding. There never is.

Cublet: Allegedly.

Me: Let's construct a potential storyline for this ridiculous moment to be shoehorned in... Santana finds out about Brittany and Sam's blossoming relationship (I assume that's where that is headed although I haven't seen much of season 4) and gets jealous. Quinn is all "you know, I used to be super mean to Rachel for no reason and I wonder if I repressed my gayness by bullying her and then getting pregnant by some dude I didn't love". Santana offers to 'help'. They kiss. Quinn decides that actually as it turns out she's not repressing anything, she was just a badly-written bitch.

Cublet: Sounds about right...

Me: In the interim, Kurt wears something hideous and Carrie Bradshaw puddles about how contemporary and cosmopolitan it is, while Kate Hudson plays Kate Hudson. Old Rachel sings a song about how hard it is to be her, New Rachel sings a song about how hard it is to be her. The world weeps in despair. The End.

Cublet: ...is a better storyline than whatever they will inevitably go with...

Me: I'm done. I'm sticking to Don't Trust The Bitch In Apartment 23 from now on.

Otter, It's Cold Outside

I made it to work this morning in spite of a mild blizzard. After struggling in, apparently having to do a lot more effort to simply walk than other pedestrians around me appeared to, I was more than mildly annoyed by this.

Wetsoks: Bonjour, Guten Tag, Bom Dia. That's all the languages I know.

Me: Hola menina.

Wetsoks: What?

Me: HEY GIRL!

Wetsoks: Ah. Well done.

Me: The wind blew me off the pavement on the way in.

Wetsoks: Dude.

Me: I know. I need to put on weight. The world owes me a lot of cake.

Wetsoks: I'm not sure if you noticed but its snowing.

Me: Yes, I goddamn noticed.

Wetsoks: It's windy here too. But that might just be me *cymbal noise*  And something I use digitally for work is broken so I'm using pen and paper.

Me: Ah, the Amish way.

Wetsoks: Oppum Amish Style!

Me: Heeeey, puritanical laaaady! *bonnet dance* By the way, I despise that song. Can we relegate it to 2012 and not speak about it again?

Wetsoks: No.

Me: I thought as much. The world owes me more cake for this. MOAR. CAKE.