Well, That Was One Big Bad Touch
I feel it necessary to offer a disclaimer and make you all aware that I am actually not a prude, even though someone in the comments section of this very blog once implied that I am a virgin who can't drive because I mentioned being unable to watch or listen to Marlena and John kissing on Days of Our Lives without praying for blindness, and also that I love soapy lightheartedness. Seriously, bring on all sorts of zany things and nine times out of ten, I will squeal delightedly because I have a lot in common with toddlers.
But today was ten percenter, because our lightheartedness took a turn for the...incesty.
Olivia, to her son, who had his pants around his ankles because he was in the midst of preparing to make a sperm donation. Because randoms can just barge in on people when that is happening, but honestly, read that again! A mother and her son, who was attempting to...self complete. This is the most disturbing combination of words that can be spoken during this bizarre and unrealistic scenario: I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I'm with you every step of the way.
And then basically IMMEDIATELY after that familiar weirdness, I saw the Folgers commercial in which the overeager sister is just a little and by "a little", I mean "Um, EW", too excited that her brother is home for Christmas and I sort of want to go shower with, like, lye.