review

I made it through almost the entire first season of Weeds last night and this is what I learned:

People die unexpectedly, so don't spend too much on a new kitchen, just in case.
Suburban moms are the pits.
Even Mary Louise Parker has love handles, so let's all get over it.
Stay low at your dealer's house in case you get shot.
Stand on your roof a lot so you can see what your neighbors are doing.
Don't keep your drugs at home because maids sneak around.
I get really hungry for Indian food after midnight.
Tape yourself playing with your kids so they can watch it when you die.
Tape yourself having sex so your wife can watch it when you die.
Also, why can't they show lifelike dildos on premium television? TV sextoys are so unsexy.
If you stay up late enough, everyone on television looks like someone else. The loser brother is not Harry Connick Jr and the big black lady is not Nell Carter and that little weird kid is not Joey Lawrence. It's not 1981 anymore. They look different now.
Creepy unattractive children bother me, even on television serieses.
Don't take two Ambien if you like a) your hair or b) Asian chicks on the side.
Turn the teddybears away from your adulterous racketass lovemaking.
Drugs + tampons = rats. Keep them separate because you don't want your vagina getting the Black Death.
Throwing pennies at cars is a good way to eff with someone.
Having sex with drug dealers is hot and your biggest problem will be the underpants he buys you, not that you are worried that you have contracted crotchrot because YOU JUST BANGED A DRUG DEALER IN AN ALLEYWAY

I love this show so much that I'm thinking of signing up for a second Netflix account and having it delivered to XXXX S XXXX Street, Apartment 1 so I can get six disks at a time.

It's a variation of the Columbia House Records scam I pulled in the nineties, but Netflix is smart and they have my credit card number.

I hate when people get wise to my scheming.