The hubs and I have arrived late to The Walking Dead party. I never really had any desire to watch it until a couple months ago when the DVR was empty and AMC was having a marathon. Now the DVR is filled with, I believe, 33 episodes! I love it though. Last night we watched three episodes in a row after putting the kids to bed. We never watch 3 of anything in the same night. It was exhilarating! But we’re still only on Season 3, so please, please, please, no spoilers!
Anyways, we were watching one of the episodes where Andrea is screwing the Governor.
Oh…sorry any newbies out there.
But, right after their gross encounter of the naked kind, Andrea gets up and throws on some jeans and I can’t help but grumble, “Are you friggin’ kidding me?”
“You didn’t see that? She’s wearing a thong.”
My husband always enjoys talking fashion with me, but he hushed me until a commercial came on. Before he could grab the remote to zip right through it I go back to my rant.
“It’s the end of the whole damn world and she’s wearing a thong? Seriously?”
A great thing about being married to my best-friend is, he knows I tend to obsess about things like this so he might as well engage. “Well it’s not like she was wearing it while out killing Walkers.”
“It doesn’t matter!” I snapped, “It’s a zombie apocalypse. I’m telling you right now, if we have a zombie apocalypse, I am going granny-panties all the way. Hell, I barely wear sexy undies now and we only have 3 little life suckers hanging around.”
(that’s not an error, that’s how we’re going to start spelling Zombie Apacolypse when the Zombie Apacolypse begins. We’ll also begin spelling the word Island as Iland, doubt as dowt, and light as lite. However, lose will still be L-O-S-E and not L-O-O-S-E as so many super annoying people tend to spell it now. I hate those people. But that’s a blog for another time.)
He laughs and I cross my arms. We go ahead and fast forward. Some gross stuff happens but it’s not nearly as unsettling as this thong thing. When the next commercial comes I start in again.
“I don’t even understand what she’s doing with a thong. That’s like the last thing you’d need. Does she keep it with her gun just incase an opportunity presents itself? Cause you never know when you’ll meet Mr. Right.”
“Maybe it makes her feel sexy.” Steven says while rubbing my thigh and giving me his lovey eyes.
“Oh yes, cause nothing makes me feel sexier than a self-induced wedgie all day.”
The shows back on. We eat some popcorn. Then another commercial.
“And where exactly did they come from? Did she pack them up after her family became Walker food? Did she steal them from a dead woman’s luggage? Did she loot a Victoria’s Secret?”
I think for a second.
“She must not have had a choice. I just can’t see a tough chick like Andrea overly concerned with lingerie. It must have gotten to the point where all the nice Hanes Her Way cotton briefs had been used to help build rafts to China or something.”
Steven gave me the nod that says “I’m acting like I’m listening, but I’m really day dreaming about feather-fin catfish”, so I give it a rest. We finished the show, and jumped right into another episode. Poor Steven probably thought the panties conversation was over. And it almost was, until I became the most ingenious woman in the world!
I smacked him hard on the arm, as I tend to do when I’m about to say something profound, and told him, “Maybe they were the Governor’s dead wife’s panties. And he laid them out for her afterwards because the ones she was wearing were gross and smelly and probably not very pretty. And she only decided to wear them because it had been so very long since she’d felt the softness of silk upon her buttocks! And she is a girl. We do like pretty things. And her head was dizzy from all that gross sex she was having so she couldn’t put together in her head that, perhaps, someone who keeps ahold of his dead wife’s unmentionables might not be the best person to be snuggling up to during a zombie apocalypse. Oh, but she’ll figure it out. Wouldn’t surprise me if during the next episode there’s a scene where he’s chasing her through the woods with a machete and she’s running around with a pained look on her face because her sexy underwear is crawling into some places where you’d rather not have stuff crawl up in to. And guess who comes to the rescue? That’s right! My girl, Michonne! She’ll take that big ass sword of hers and slice those knickers in half and she and Andrea will run away to safety. The end.”
Steven paused the t.v., looked me in the eyes and said, “I think you’re right.”
I knew I was right.
I smiled at him and said thank you. We went back to watching our show. It didn’t take long for me to realize, though, that I had no idea what was happening on the screen.
“What the hell happened to the Governor’s eye?!”
“Your girl Michonne cut him while you were obsessing about Andrea’s underwear.”
Looks like we’re also gonna be the last people to leave the Walking Dead party.
Thanks for reading!