Motherfucking True Blood! It’s back! And it didn’t suck! Yes, righteous, awesome, et cetera. I had an inkling that I actually enjoyed True Blood, and it was something I was certain of by the time the “Last Season on True Blood” ran prior to last night’s season debut. With knowledge in hand that certainly Maryann was dead, Eggs was fucking rigor mortis, and nothing could be worse than the last five episodes of last season, I dove in. And it was fucking assloads of fun! Literally!

I mean, jesus christ, how many ass shots did they give us last night? Not that I don’t think it was warranted. All last season was like, copious tits and orgies. Where were the dude butts at? Sure, there were the scenes where Sookie fantasized about Eric and he was laying in bed with her and stuff. But still, where was the butt at! Well, we got it last night. Jason’s butt, Eric’s butt, where the fuck was Andy’s butt? I was hankering for some cavernous, hairy, unrelenting butthole. But whatever, I can’t complain, can I?

The season premiere had Bill getting kidnapped by a bag of dicks who are apparently werewolves. Wut? Say wut? Alright, this is already cool. I can get down with werewolves. Even if they’re fucking hillbillies that ultimately get owned by good ole Billy Compton. We get to see Bill sans Sookie, and it was right around that point that I realized something: Sookie is a blackhole of gap-toothed suck. Everything that gets sucked into her orbit is mired in suck, infected with her Jack-O-Lantern evil.

How do I know this?

Bill was fucking rad last night. From digging himself out of a grave to snacking on ole Grannie Stinky Puss or whatever her name was, to throwing down with werewolves, he exuded cool in a way that I forgot he could. It’s amazing what the guy can do when he’s not being written as a litany of syrupy proclamations of love.

SOOKIE I LOVE THEE

SOOKIE, I CANNOT ALLOW THEE TO ENDANGER ONE’S SELF

SOOKIE, YOUR HEART IS BUT AN EMBLEM AS GORGEOUS AS THE CONFEDERATE FLAG.

And on and on and on. Rock on Billy Compton. I can adore you, it appears, under the right circumstances.

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And the seven thunders uttered! How the fuck is it going? Are you happily ensconced in your cubicle? Are you like me, with a pile of short stories to read, and a paper to write? Are you a single mother at home, on your ninth bag of Doritos and early awaiting today’s episode of Oprah? Are you stoked? Pumped? Ready to feel the burn? What are you looking forward to this week? This month! Tell me. I yearn to know. And for your underpants. Just saying.

Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide.

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[source : slashfilm]

Came across this poster and another one over at Slashfilm today, and I was surprised how excited it made me. I didn’t like True Blood Season 2. It started off good, flamed out in the middle, and shit itself at the end. If I had to endure one more obvious bullshit turn by Maryann, I was going to slit myself. However, I loved the beginning of it, as well as Season 1. So, these posters get me stoked like woah, and I’m always willing to give a new season of a show I previously loved another shot. There’s a chance for self-correcting, and please god, perhaps Sookie taking a 2×4 to the skullplate.