You’re all familiar with the biological clock. Supposedly there’s a little alarm clock in a woman’s body (situated betwixt the soul gland and the good smell bladder, if I recall) that goes off when she reaches her late thirties, triggering auditory and visual hallucinations of dancing CGI babies. So says my source for all my medical information, Dr. Dumpyfat Sitcomman.
I’m going through something similar right now. Except I’m 24, and instead of babies I can’t stop thinking about Futurama.
Seriously, I find myself correcting people by yelling “[insert plural noun here] DO NOT WORK THAT WAY!” The word “Jurassic,” a word which usually fills my heart with joy, reminds me of that stupid episode with the dog and makes me sad. I’m tempted to do my feminist whinging in truncated Amazon speak- we no can dunk, but good fundamentals! At night my dreams are haunted by a shadowy figure, accompanied by the aura of legend and the overpowering stink of velour. All this is reaching a crescendo as the brand new season rapidly approaches.
You did know Comedy Central was making new episodes, right?
Anyway! Let’s all wallow in our sick hallucinations together until Thursday finally arrives! How about we share our favorite Futurama quotes?
Zapp: You want the rest of the shampaggin?
Leela: No. And it’s pronounced ‘champagne‘Zapp: OH GOD NOOOOOO!