Feelin’ swampy

Admit it, you'd go gaga for this.

So, I started a little late on the new season of HBO’s series True Blood, but I’ve got to admit that I enjoyed the first episode of the new season. Entering right where we left off with the newly united town back in shambles, I get to look into Anna Paguin’s gap and gaze back into the world of Louisiana as we know it-nasty. Simple Jason in disarray as he is forced to deal with the murder of Tara’s boyfriend who was a second tier character that was really just in the way of me getting to look at Deborah Ann Woll’s new rack. Bill apparently was kidnapped by a bunch of hillbilly werewolves from Mississippi who are both homophobic and self-serving, (they go from asshole rednecks to sipping “V” from Bill to rubbing their own nipples and spitting the corn-syrup into each others mouths and riding on Bill’s car) and Hoyt bitching about how he finally told his masturbatory mother off. Sounds like the South!

The show never disappoints and I’m still sickened by Sam Merlott’s drydream about Bill Compton sneaking into his Arkansan hotel room at night and taking a shower with him (it’s also a first for me, I’ve never been laughing my ass off while covering my eyes like a four-year-old).

I could’ve asked for more tits, blood and gore but Alexander Skarsgård’s performance gave us enough of that. We met Eric this season screwing a Scandinavian stripper’s implants out from behind in his dungeon o’doom. Classy as always, and normally he would be wearing his Adidas tracksuit and slick-backed hair á la Scarface style but this time had to be different. This time, he had to be showing his powdered ass from underneath Natasha Alam’s armpit.

This is going to be one swampy summer, and thank God because BP’s oilspill is starting to wear on me. Check more reviews at IMDB.com and on my twitterfeed or facebook site.

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