…Seriously, who was that squat little Sharon Osborne moppet in need of Vaseline at the vamp authority council table?! Is the feral toddler hers? She lights up my life.
Speaking of lighting up: escaped marines who jerk off to housefires, redhaired sluts (Maxine: “I’mma bake you a pie!”), and conversations with an early nineteen-hundredth madam. She’s off the clock. And looking great. Though didn’t you half expect Darla and Drusilla to flank her sides in period wear?
- Tara speaks! More so, she can converse! And gets burned, hysterically, by that ol’ liquid silver. Glad she ran because Lafayette wuh gonna stake that hooka.
- Arlene wakes up to Terry pulling some serious Shining shit…
- Nigel the baby-eater is precious. Sorry about those UV lights.
- Carla Gugino, call your agent, quick. New vamp lady Salome got you pegged!
- Twenty-thou for Jason‘s ass? Jess…
- Did Andy steal a vial of happystuff?
- Bring on the Lillith lore. All of it. Covered in milk. With just a hunk more of Meloni.
- Martha pleads Alcide and the shifters. She’s kinda desperate. I kinda still love her.
- Scaly Russell!
- Bottom line: Sam looked drop-dead in that tattered zip-up hoodie.
The writers are (fortunately) milking their new gayby Newlin for as many jokes as possible. I’m sure in an ep or two it’ll get old, but for right now: His jiggly entrance to that co-ed party: “HAAAAAAAAY!!!”