Real ex-wives in Mississippi

boob tube

I have a new idea for a reality show which will be about as interesting and entertaining as any other reality show I’ve seen lately on the “boob” tube.

(Side note: Isn’t it ironic that once upon a time, we called the television  the “Boob Tube,” never dreaming that by the 21st century, boobs would become the central focus of programming – and for general audiences no less!)


Back to my new reality show.  It will be loosely based on my day yesterday when I walked on the wild side with total abandon.

I strolled on the treadmill without holding on, and ran with scissors just for the heck of it.  I played with matches and burned my bank statements in the back yard.


I gardened without gloves, washed my whites with my darks and cooked dinner with my apron off one shoulder.  I frolicked in the sun without my sunscreen and made horrible faces, not caring if they froze that way forever.

I rode my bike with no hands and no helmet and dared some cop to stop me.

I ate lunch standing over the kitchen sink and screamed obscenities at the boob tube while the boobs in Congress were screwing with our lives.

Of course in true Southern girl fashion, I concluded each epithet with the phrase “Bless your bloody heart.”  I think that made everything acceptable.

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