Dirty Sexy Money: Is there any other kind?

I missed most of the Wednesday night premiere smorgasbord because hump day is margarita day in my book. This turned out to be a good thing, because I caught the last ten minutes of the Grey's Anatomy spinoff Private Practice when I got home, and I had to thank god I was drunk. That show should remain as private as possible. Like, maybe so private they don't make any recording of it.

Being drunk was also advantageous for a viewing of Dirty Sexy Money (far and away my favorite new-television-program-name). First of all, everyone on the show is drunk all the time, and there is nothing sadder than being the most sober person in a room. I was also drunk enough that I didn't care that no one on the show makes any sense, ever. I mean, that is just how drunk people are. Try to be tolerant people. Finally, the hot angry priest with the illegitimate kid was like a character I would make up if I were telling a story while completely blitzed. So I was watching the show, but it's like I was making it happen, you know?

Ok, confession. Sunday afternoon is also margarita day in my book. My book, by the way, is called Who Ordered These Frozen? Do I Look Like a Sorority Girl to You?