The return of Shit For Brains.

For those of you who were spared my recount of a conversation with Shit For Brains and you feel the need to have your brain torn out of your skull, follow the link.

Shit For Brains (SFB) is an avid follower of television dramas (soap operas)

She calls me last night in a major tizzy.

“Sally’s dead, but she’s not dead, she’s sort of in a halfway house for dead people”

I’ve just woken and have not connected the intravenous drip of Jamaican blend.

My response is:

“Who the fuck is Sally? And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?”

Talking faster than an auctioneer, SFB tells me the saga of what is happening in Home and Away. (Goddess help me, I had to research)

Now before anyone thinks I’m a media snob; you know the type, dear reader. The type that says “I only read the Financial Review and watch the ABC”

Bollocks for that – I will watch any shit in my downtime. And I have viewed that rancid load of dingo piffle more than once. But as soon as any “drama” and I use the word loosely, has a major accident scene, I know how the operating scene will go.

“We can’t stop the bleeding. We will have to remove the spleen”

Yeah, uh huh, no problemo. I’m laughing too much to watch that crap again.

Back to SFB.

She becomes absorbed in these shows. According to SFB, Sally apparently had to leave the show because she can’t forget Flynn. Um… what the fuck!

“Sally is not Sally. She’s Kate Ritchie” I try to slam into her brain of junket.

“She will always be Sally” SFB cries. And I do mean cries.

My brain melts again. Is she fucking serious?

And then the clincher!

Apparently everyone goes to this magical heaven. According to SFB’s theory on the afterlife in “soapy land”  every dipshit who has fallen off the twig and gone on the road to becoming a Hollywood Harlot Starlet or one hit wonder music star is in this magical heaven.

And SFB has never done drugs.

Go figure.