True Blood Musings: All Blah-ed Out Over You

We open on a LA kara-tay dojo, apparently.

Okay, not really. It was a yoga place with this short-shorted homeboy leading a bunch of peeps through what seems like a pretty obnoxious vinyasa flow.

Wait. But why? Is this dude Jason in disguise? Did LaLa hit up the West Coast, after being inspired by the Lana Del Rey song, and take up downward dogs?

Let's discuss after the jump.

Nope, it's none of those things. It's just what we need in times like these -- more of this massive asshole.

I can almost handle Eric dying. But I WILL NOT handle his hair reaching Bill-levels of grossness.

And, yet, this is somehow worse. This is some low rent Disney prince bullshit.

I know that I am beyond harping at this point, but this hair is just downright offensive to my delicate sensibilities. We've moved from Disney prince to The Beast halfway transitioning into a human. Who is doing the hair this season, Billy Ray Cyrus?

Okay, okay. I'll try to move on with my sad life.

We discover that Sook has left Alcide with the status of his frozen steaks in limbo, and she's off gallivanting with the King of Boringville. IN THE SAME SHIRT. If I never, ever see that print again it will still be filed under "too soon" in my brain hole.

This little lamb was about to get into some heavy petting with her almost-stepbrother in a shirt that only a current-day Laura Ingalls could love, but instead she had to tell her dad that the whole town has gone rogue, and also everyone she knows is kind of super annoying now.

Let's be honest, the only reason that we're still hanging around this shitshow are for faces like these.

I've never wished for the Sadness quicksand from The Neverending Story to be real more than this moment. Let's just end all of this and swallow all of these bores up. Take Ms. Fortenberry's culotte/capris/goucho things first.

THANK YOU, beautiful c-faced vampire lady. Also, give me your leather jacket.

Sookie does a monologue on MF-ING SIX FLAGS. What is this show even?

Yeah, okay. Whatever. The Tru Blood corporation wants to kill you, or something.

I felt nothing when Alcide died, you guys. NOTHING. And I used to cry over that cotton commercial with the blind kid. Maybe because he had the personality of a wet Elementary school science fair display board this season. Or maybe I'm a monster.

Next week: we continue to circle the drain, but Eric's hair is maybe kind of better? Oh, who the hell knows, my hair threshold is super low at this point.

Are you guys still hanging in there? Hello? Is anybody out there?







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