First Hoopz wins a crazy as fuck final episode of I Love Money (which set a TV rating for most times "dawg" and "homeboy" were uttered in a 90 minute segment) and last night both Suzanne and Mic won I Want To Work For Diddy, which rules because Kim sucked.
I've lost track of Vivica A. Fox's Glam God, suddenly don't give a fizz titty tuck about Project Runway and never got into Top Design.
And even Tabatha's Salon Takeover is concluding this week, but that's just as well since shit was starting to get redundant. (What isn't redundant? "She's making a mockery of Images!" That will last FOREVER, alongside "You Threw a Whack Party" and "You Look Like a Bunch of Fucking Hillbillies!" in the great pantheon of Vanyalingo.)
So anyway, what's a boy to do without any good crap television? Jump aboard the soul-sista gold-digga party bus that's Real Housewives of Atlanta. Shit premieres tonight, and clearly is more important than any presidential debate.
I have issues.