The Filthiest Show On Television

The Filthiest Show On Television

It ain’t South Park.  Or Californication.  Or any other ironic cartoon program that I’m not cool enough to have seen.  It’s way down there on your guide, on BBC America.  It’s a British high school comedy called The Inbetweeners.  And if it was a motion picture in the US, even with the bleeping, I’m certain the MPAA would saddle it with an NC-17 rating for language and content.

The rare cringe comedy not shot in “mockumentary” style, The Inbetweeners involves four friends’ quest to get laid and raise their collective social standing.  The characters are stock: briefcase-carrying nerd, lovestruck nerd, stupid nerd, incomprehensibly offensive nerd, mean schoolmaster.  The insults are pretty raw, but accurate in the area of how youngsters (at least in my day) spoke of their desire to have intercourse with their friends moms.  Of course, usually that was just rhetoric, but here the kids are often speaking about specific parts of the main character’s mom.  She’s not Sophia Vergara, but still, we are talking about Britain here, let’s be realistic.

Surprisingly, there are not a lot of good pics of Belinda available, but, trust me, she's much better than the average mom.

The show is pretty humorous, but also educational: I’ve learned tons of new slang for female anatomy (most of them seem to end in “-ge”, I’m thinking of creating my own.  Maybe, “slunge”?).  I’ve also learned that being “fit” is a high compliment.  And, when casting a teen series in the US, casting directors seem to seek out actresses who will inspire debate about “are our teens too thin?”  In the UK, the casting directors are apparently going more for the “our teens: do we have bras big enough to contain them?” debate.   Check it out, it’s available on BBCA On Demand, too – you may not love it, but you will probably be offended by something.

90210 producers, take note: this is what you should be striving for.

In other news, I have been quite busy of late, so postings have been on the sparse side.  I’m trying to unravel my tax records, which should be pretty easy.  Except for the fact that in mid-2008 I inexplicably said “fuck it” and stopped keeping my own records.  That had worked fine in the past; my old broker, despite being less technologically advanced than Suretrade in 1999, provided extremely detailed info on option trades in the 1099 package.  (Option trade information doesn’t go in the 1099 that goes to the IRS, so it’s up to the trader to keep the records and make sure his taxes aren’t fucked up.)  But then I switched to a 1,000,000,000,000,000,000x better trading platform in early 2009 – that’s where the problems begin.  They list every trade in their year end info pack, including ones that weren’t taxable events.  So I’ve had to go and back those trades out and try to get it all to sync up with my own records.  And I don’t have a fucking printout of the 2009 trades because it’s 116 pages long.  Fuck me.

In other2 news, I went to SO’s friend’s birthday party in Brooklyn on Saturday.  The usual, drank too much, got wine spilled over 80% of my body, ate a lot of cheese.  When we got back to NYC, we were out of water, so stopped at the corner store to get some.  (For the record, this corner store is the anti-Gristedes: the listed price of a 20 oz Diet Coke with Lime is $1.50, but they let Chilly have them for $1.25.)  When there, I realized that I didn’t have my phone at the same time SO realized she didn’t have her purse.  Chaos ensued.  I started yelling about leaving shit in the cab and how SO needs to pay more attention, SO had the corner store guy call her friend in Brooklyn (at 4:00 AM) to ask if our stuff was there.  Full on debacle.  Still bitching and yelling when we got back home, I was startled to see my phone on the counter – a fucking miracle!  I was using it to check the Final Four score in Brooklyn (those fucking hipsters never have TVs) and somehow it teleported back!  Starting to rethink my position on religion and the supernatural…when SO realizes her purse is there, too.  Apparently we BOTH forgot that we stopped at home and then went to the store.  Morons.  Alcohol, while tasty and delightful, makes you stupider.  The funny part is, the corner store guy could not tolerate that our friends in Brooklyn weren’t answering their phone – he called them 300x until she picked up.  It’s good to have a solid corner store guy.



3 thoughts on “The Filthiest Show On Television

  1. Hey, not on facebook yet as they frown upon pseudonyms. Am ostensibly on twitter: @chilly_17

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