I was out having a drink with a girl the other night and I saw a guy that looked like Ray Romano. He was really hoeing into a massive lobster; he had it all over his face. It was hilarious. I pointed it out to this girl but she didn’t think it was very funny. She said that she really enjoyed ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ and in a way I was taking the piss out of the show. I left the statement alone and apologised. I knew we weren’t made for each other but sex was still on the cards. I’m quite sure she saw straight through my hollow apology but we moved on regardless. She must’ve slipped me some Rohypnol or something because the next thing I know I’m tied to a chair with a gun to my head. The girl said, “watch this episode and enjoy it or I’ll shoot you.”
Even in the face of death I couldn’t help myself. “Is this the one where Ray’s mother’s intrusive, his father’s cynical, his wife’s upset, and he’s a little dry about it all?”
She cocked the gun
“Sorry, you’re just going to have to kill me,” I said, as the opening credits began to roll.
She diverted her aim and shot me in the foot.
“Ok, ok,” I yelled. It fucking hurt.
It was hard to sit through to say the least. Every time I failed to laugh she poked the gun hard into my temple. The canned laughter was a necessary and very helpful cue of when to chuckle.
“What did you think?” she asked, as the show came to an anticlimactic close.
“It actually wasn’t that bad,” I lied. The only funny thing was the poor cinematography. In one scene a glass had appeared and disappeared from a table on three separate occasions.
She untied me and was even nice enough to drop me home. I haven’t called her back but I went out with another girl last week and she was in the same restaurant with the Ray Romano lookalike. They were hoeing into a massive lobster. I didn’t say a word about it.
Even in the face of death I couldn’t help myself. “Is this the one where Ray’s mother’s intrusive, his father’s cynical, his wife’s upset, and he’s a little dry about it all?”
She cocked the gun
“Sorry, you’re just going to have to kill me,” I said, as the opening credits began to roll.
She diverted her aim and shot me in the foot.
“Ok, ok,” I yelled. It fucking hurt.
It was hard to sit through to say the least. Every time I failed to laugh she poked the gun hard into my temple. The canned laughter was a necessary and very helpful cue of when to chuckle.
“What did you think?” she asked, as the show came to an anticlimactic close.
“It actually wasn’t that bad,” I lied. The only funny thing was the poor cinematography. In one scene a glass had appeared and disappeared from a table on three separate occasions.
She untied me and was even nice enough to drop me home. I haven’t called her back but I went out with another girl last week and she was in the same restaurant with the Ray Romano lookalike. They were hoeing into a massive lobster. I didn’t say a word about it.