Kim Cattrall is a vampire. By night, Kim Cattrall feeds on Hooters girls innocently making out with each other in the parking lot. I haven’t looked up her Wikipedia entry to verify this fact, but she’s super old, pale, and dare I say, fang-y. So, quod erat demonstrandum, which is Latin for “Yep, she’s a vampire.”
Last night at midnight I stood in the bushes outside of the Mission Valley Hooters.
“Oh, my God,” Kaitlin said, “I think my shorts have a hole in them. Can you look for me?”
“I have to pull your shirt up to look,” Bree said. “Oops, sorry. I pulled your shirt waaaaay too far up.”
“No, it’s okay,” Kaitlin said. “I kind of like it.”
I could sense Kim Cattrall’s ancient evil presence in the air like a frog in pudding. She was somewhere high up; she was in the eucalyptus. I took off my wide-brim vampire-hunter hat and peered into the treetops for her shiny little raccoon eyes. Leaves rustled. I swished my cape and sprang.
“Ladies!” I yelled. “You’re going to have to get off the hood of that Mini Cooper — OH, MY GOD!” My face and eyes burnt like knives and poison. I dug my fingernails into my cheeks and rolled around in the grease and pebbles of the parking lot. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SPRAY ON ME!?”
“Where the hell are your pants, freak?” Bree asked.
“You maced me!” I screamed.
“Damn right,” Kaitlin said. “Why are you in that stupid cape and hat without any pants?”
“Kim Cattrall is drinking the blood of Hooters girls to stay young!” I yelled.
“Yeah, dumb ass. Listen, the only thing weird in this parking lot is you — OH, NO! IT’S KIM CATTRALL AND SHE’S...!” Wet chomping noises filled the air. By the time I could open my eyes and see, the only thing left on the asphalt was a torn pair of tacky pantyhose. I held them to my face to pick up Cattrall’s scent.
A siren whooped. A spotlight shone its bright beam on me. “This is the THIRD TIME THIS WEEK!” Officer Beezley shouted over his public address system. “What did I tell you about staying a hundred yards from this parking lot, weirdo?! And what did I say about wearing pants!?”
“EAT IT, BEEZLEY!” I shouted, running, holding the pantyhose to my face. “Kim Cattrall must be stopped!”
WHAT I WILL AND WON'T WATCH THIS WEEK
Thursday, June 12
Mickey Mouse Clubhouse
Disney 8:30 p.m.
For those of you still confused about this, let me tell you: Bambi was a boy. I know. It’s weird because he’s a little sissy and his name is Bambi and everything. But, if you watch all the way through, his prancing little spindly self grows a set of horns or antlers or whatever those branchy things on deer heads are called. And at the very end he has kids, although — wow — I really doubt he’s the dad, you know? Like Tom Cruise and that elf thing Katie Holmes carries around.
Million Dollar Password
CBS 8:00 p.m.
Super. Now Regis Philbin and Betty White have someplace to go during the day. Otherwise, they’d spend their afternoons in tattered robes riding golf carts around their “community” and yelling at teenagers, “You kids get out of here! I see you, smoking cigarettes in that parking lot, you rotten little SOBs!” Now, instead of that, they have Password to do. Isn’t that nice?
Friday, June 13
Most Outrageous Moments
NBC 8:00 p.m.
Really, these aren’t that outrageous. A tiny horse taking a dump in front of Ed McMahon’s chair on The Tonight Show stage isn’t really “outrageous” as it’s defined: “gross violation of justice, morality, decency.” If Ed and the pony switched places, though, then you’d have something.
CBS 9:00 p.m.
Is this stupid show still on? What was this about, that nerdy dude from Northern Exposure and his little brother with the Jewfro were “math cops” or something. Yeah, that sounds awesome. Let’s run a marathon of this stinkin’ Tupperware full of monkey armpits.
Saturday, June 14
Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines
FX 5:30 p.m.
Better than Terminator 4: Pay No Attention to His Gray Ear Hair and Man Boobs. He’s a Robot, Damn It. He Doesn’t Age. Really. Yes, He’s in Dolphin Shorts and a Fedora This Time, But He’s the Same Robot as the First One. We’re Serious. Pay NO ATTENTION!
Sunday, June 15
Inning by Inning: Portrait of a Coach
ESPN 7:00 p.m.
Damn, I’d love to be a major-league coach. By the time players have hit the major leagues, they already know how to hit and bunt and all that. As a coach, your main concerns are (a) chewing something and (b) getting one foot on the highest step possible to let that cameraman get a nice close-up of the “place that shall be scratched.” You could be drunk as hell. Man, I want to be a coach.
Monday, June 16
Sam the Cooking Guy
CASD4 9:30 p.m.
Probably the most embarrassing food is the hotdog. In public you have to say, “Oh, hotdogs. Gross! They’re made out of butt and knees!” But you know you love ’em. You sneak hotdogs. Your girlfriend caught you once because you came home smelling like hotdog, but you played it off and told her that a bum jumped you and rubbed hotdog smell on you, but you didn’t eat one. “No way. Not a hotdog. Gross!” When she turned around you smiled a happy just-ate-a-hotdog-and-got-away-with-it smile.
Tuesday, June 17
Nora’s Hair Salon 2: A Cut Above
BET 8:00 p.m.
If I were black, I’d write someone in Congress. “Please prevent Hollywood from making any more black-hair-salon movies. Really, we have lives outside of hair salons; in fact, I spend more time at the bank and grocery store, easy, but this is the 19th movie about black hair salons in the past three years. Please. Asians have martial arts movies and white people have weddings and robots, and those are cool. Please, help us.”
Wednesday, June 18
NBC 9:30 p.m.
Ah, cute. Is there anything celebrities won’t do for money that makes them look completely stupid? No. That’s why they’re celebrities. Dance, monkey boy! Dance!
Thursday, June 19
100 Greatest Songs of the '80s: Hour 5
VH1 10:00 p.m.
Ugh. Just ugh.