Wednesday's Wifey: Christina Hendricks from Mab Membs

Pic courtesy of BobsBonerPalace.com

Prepare for a new era of TV My Wife Watches!

With the Bach in our rearview mirror, it's time to start blogging about breasts and butts from respectable, dramatic television programs. Mad Men returns this Sunday, back on the air for the first time since October, 2010. It's been so long that I honestly can't remember what was going on in this show. Did Don Drapes marry his secretary? Did Joan have an aborsh? Is Cooper dead? I kind of remember him dying. I honestly have no idea. But I do know that seventeen months is way too long to have to wait for Christina Hendricks to be Wednesday's Wifey. I also know that my head almost exploded while googling pictures to use for this post.

Let's see what this lady is all aboot ... shout-out to Canada ... she's not from Canada.

Here's X-tina standing with a man who looks to have no idea how to act, dress or fit into modern-day society. According to Wikipedia, this man is her husband, but that can't possibly be true. I think this guy is a famous cellist. Or possibly a monkey-man.

Monkey-man looks a little more put together here, it's nice that they dressed him up in a tuxed-JESUS CHRIST ... IT'S LIKE THEY'RE EXPLODING OUT OF HER DRESS! Why would AMC keep this show off the air for SEVENTEEN months?!?!

I admit that I don't know a lot about human (or monkey) anatomies, BUT HER BOOBS ARE GOING TO EXPLODE!

PLEASE GOD DON'T LET HER BOOBS EXPLODE!

I HOPE MONKEY-MAN DOESN'T GET HURT!

Monkey-men are really good at carrying things, like bananas or banana-colored bags of enormous bras that their monkey-handlers ask them to carry. It's nice that Christina is holding her monkey-man's hand so he doesn't get scared. Sometimes monkey-men get scared. I want to watch Christina give birth to a baby.

Looks like a totally normal picture. Just a lady and a monkey-man enjoying a wedding reception. But if you look closely at Christina -- specifically her exploding boobs -- you'll see THAT HER BOOBS ARE GOING TO EXPLODE!

I've been to A LOT of weddings and I've NEVER sat with anybody with explodo-boobs (OR a monkey-man). The last wedding I went to, some guy went around and shook hands with our entire table in an attempt to sell us mutual funds. "Hey, how ya doin? Brian Labaterra. Hey there, good to meet ya, Brian Labaterra. Hi there. Brian. Brian Labaterra. Brian Labaterra, how are ya? Brian Labaterra. Brian Labaterra."

I WANT HER TO JAM THOSE RED LEATHER GLOVES IN MY MOUTH, BASH THAT CHAIR IN MY FACE, AND MAKE ME DRINK OUT OF HER SHOES.

THIS BLOG IS NO DIFFERENT -- AND I MEAN, NO DIFFERENT -- THAN IT WAS WHEN I WAS BLOGGING ABOUT THE BACH. I'M TRULY SORRY (AND TURNED ON).

The internet is filled with women who dressed up as Joan for Halloween. This woman (who could be cute if she wasn't making the weirdest face ever) just so happens to be making the weirdest face ever.

This lady is making a slightly less-weird face, but is VERY aggressive. Also, that woman behind her (in the pink dress), take a look, her back kind-of looks like her front!

This lady has her own blog -- Polka Dot Overload -- where she tells people how to dress up like Joan.

THIS IS A REAL PERSON!

Here's a photo from Christina's high school yearbook. Apparently teenagers aren't allowed to smile. I can't stop staring at the blonde dude in the front row, all the way on the left. Look at his sweater ... THAT'S A DOGGIE I THINK ... AND I ALSO THINK "HE" MIGHT BE A "SHE" ... now I feel bad.

Those are really nice dresses and really nice shoes. 

I know that because I have my finger on the pulse of women's fashion.

I also once sold women's shoes during one summer in college. It was secretly amazing. 

Mad Men starts this Sundee night with a TWO HOUR PREMIERE. If you forget what the people of Sterling Cooper Draper Price are up to, I recommend going back and reading all of my Mad Men posts from last seez, found here. Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, check out these sneaks that I almost bought today ... don't tell my wife! 

Ellen: Recap - w/ Christina Hendricks

Is Ellen on the phone here?

I have never considered myself to be the manliest man, as evidenced by the fact that:

a) I have a blog about women's television
and
b) I once spent an entire afternoon shopping at Bed Bath and Beyond without my wife (and loved it),

but I am certainly not the lamest dude either. I actually have some very primal, masculine qualities that may not be on par with Bruce Willis', but are certainly comparable to say, Maxim Chmerkovskiy's or Elton John's. For example, I have a decent amount of chest hair, can dribble a basketball with either hand and once ate an entire Roast Beef Hoagie with a stick. That being said, I have never done anything softer than centering my day around an episode of Ellen like I did last Thursday afternoon.

In my defense, my intentions were VERY manly. My sole reason for watching the show was to see special guest, Christina Hendricks. As I have written before, I can't get enough of her mesmerizing bosom and here  was my opportunity to see how Christina (the actual woman / bosom combo) compared to Joan (the Mad Men enhanced woman / bosom / sexpot combo bonanza).

Please tell her to stop looking at me like that. I can't handle it.

If you've never seen Ellen's talk-show, it is structured similarly to every other talk-show, but Ellen has a few signature wrinkles that set it apart. Following her monologue, they play music and Ellen starts wiggling her shoulders and proceeds to dance up and down the aisles along with her audience. THE WOMEN IN THE AUDIENCE GO ABSOLUTELY BONKERS. They all love it and smile as if they're staring at a thousand babies, especially the women who are seated in the aisles and have the chance to potentially dance with Ellen. Occasionally some do get this opportunity and do so with the most intense look in their eyes as if they must dance harder than they've ever danced before. Ellen normally gets a kick out of this and then leaves the women behind like her name was Charlie Sheen.

Later, Ellen introduces her mystery word of the day (which is a blatant rip-off of Pee Wee's Playhouse) and tries to get her guests to say the word, thus winning an enormous case of Pampers for her entire studio audience. Thursday's word was "papaya."

It was at this point in the show that I received a text message from loyal reader and my very masculine friend, Sergio, which produced the proudest moment in the history of TV My Wife Watches. Sergio wrote:

Dammit, I can't believe I'm watching Ellen. 

With renewed excitement and male companionship, I sprung up during the commercial break to get a glass of A&W Diet Root Beer (we were out of Crystal Light). When I got back to my seat, I placed my full glass of root beer down next to the empty glass I had left on the side-table the night before, which sat right next to the glass of Gatorade that I had forgot I had poured myself before Ellen had started.

(Let it be known I was drinking out of my favorite 1992 Portland Trail Blazers glasses. I have the complete set: Clyde Drexler, Terry Porter, Cliff Robinson, Jerome Kersey, Buck Williams and Kevin Duckworth RIP.)

That's Clyde the Glide just laying back in a hammock wearing his tennis whites.

Ellen was now interviewing her first guest, Simon Baker, The Mentalist. I've never seen The Mentalist and know a grand total of one person who has, but it's one of America's most popular shows along with around 17 other shows with one word titles: Bones, House, Chase, Glee, Benson, Maude. Clearly, I wanted to hate The Mentalist (the person, not the show), seeing as he's on a show called The Mentalist and oozes masculinity, but considering he wore sneakers, admitted to loving ping-pong and had a British accent, I was charmed. Minutes later, Ellen got him to say "papaya" and I jumped out of my chair with excitement, quickly realized what I had done and started coughing to cover it up. I then realized that no one was around, leading to the following question: if an unemployed guy wearing sweatpants cheers while watching Ellen in the middle of the day and no one is around to hear it, is he gay?

Okay Mentalist, if you could just lean to your right and stick your elbow out ... perfect!

Eventually, after a musical performance by Bruno Mars in which he sang some song about a girl he knows that has a perfect smile and an amazing laugh and a round butt, Ellen brought out Christina.

This was it, the moment I had waited for all day long.

Would Christina be as amazing as Joan? Would she ooze sex-appeal like Hillary Clinton? Maybe she'd admit to loving blogs or men who drink diet soda. I hoped she didn't laugh like a horse.

And then, there she was, walking out in that elegant way that she does, with one foot in front of the other and with both breasts leading the way, in a red, Mad-Menny dress with her legs looking smoother and whiter than sour cream.

(Quick tangent to show how amazing my wife is and the fact that she is not repulsed by dudes who make sexual references to women with smooth, sour cream legs: her LIFELONG DREAM is to take a bath in a giant, moving, truck full of milk. Picture a huge eighteen-wheeler pulling a large, oval-shaped cylinder, like one that's filled with petroleum, but cut it in half lengthwise and fill the container with milk instead of gasoline. Yeah, she wants to swim laps in there while I drive her around town like Morgan Freems. What a woman!)

So anyway, there was Christina, sitting next to Ellen, a moment that I had waited 46 agonizing minutes for. I sat up in my seat, turned up the volume and put down my root beer for fear of subconsciously pouring it all over my chest in some sort of sexually deviant way.  And just as Christina lowered herself in her chair, with both legs closed a la Lady Di and sat up straight to smile at Ellen, a graphic appeared on the screen covering up her entire lower body that read:

"appearing tomorrow: Kevin Nealon" 

Now I must say that before this moment, I really liked Kevin Nealon (especially Mr. Subliminal). In fact, I always felt kinda bad that he never achieved the level of success that so many other SNL cast members did. But at this moment, when they flashed that Norm MacDonald-wanna-be's name up on that screen covering up my girl Christina, it might've well have said "Adolph Hitler" was appearing on tomorrow's show.

Hey Kev, I'm gonna shove that apple up your ass if you get in the way of me and Christina ever again.

I calmed myself down with a few sips of root beer and went on to listen to Christina talk about how she grew up in Idaho and reinvented herself as a goth teenager when her family moved to suburban Virginia. They even showed a picture of her as a teen in all-black, with a bowl-cut, possibly the same haircut that my friend Sergio had in 1991. She was mildly entertaining, had really great posture and according to Sergio, "did not show nearly enough cleavage." The highlight came when she showed Ellen how to swing her hips when she walked, and dangle her arms like a cat. This caused me to spit my root beer all over the floor, which is fine because I recently bought a really cute and efficient Swifter from Target.

All in all, a pleasant, masculine afternoon hanging out with a sneaker wearing lesbian, a mentalist and the  current spokeswoman for London Fog jackets.

Who just so happens to sort of laugh like a horse.

Ellen: with guest Christina Hendricks

Here's that lady again.

It is undeniable that all women LOVE Ellen Degeneres.

And I get it; she's funny, she dances, she wears sneakers; I like that. Well, on this Thursday's episode (tomorrow), Christina Hendricks (red-headed Joan from Mad Men) will be a guest on her show.

I will try to watch and blog about it. Hopefully my eyeballs won't explode.

Mad Men: Joan Is Bonkers

Christina Hendricks is fast approaching level 9, off-the-charts bonkers status.

It has gotten to the point that anytime she walks onto the screen with her absolutely bonkers breasts, I find myself screaming at the television. Normally, I don't even actually form sentences, just awkward sounds as if she slugged me in the gut. I'm sort of starting to get angry at how hot she is.

Equally as frustrating is the lack of attention she's getting across the country for being so close to off-the-charts bonkers status! To this day, only three women in the history of western civilization have reached this level of off-the-charts bonkersnish. They are (in no particular order):

1. Elle McPherson
2. Kim Kardashian
3. Mariah Carey (circa 1997)

(We're talking about the Mariah who was recently separated from her husband, mentally unstable and wearing cut-off jean shorts in seemingly every public appearance. It was also at this time that I believe she killed a man by simply asking him to hold her flip flops.) 


While doing some research,* I found that Maxim Magazine did not even have Christina ranked in their 2010 list of the 100 hottest women! Even more ridiculous was the fact that since Mad Men debuted in 2007, Time Magazine has not named her Person of the Year once. In 2009, they gave it to some guy named Ben Bernanke while it 2008 it went to Barack Obama? This country needs to wake up and recognize.

At the very least, Big Red should be doing ads for Maybelline or Loreal or Triscuits. Are you telling me that you wouldn't buy 19 boxes of Triscuits if you saw an ad with Joan's red nail polish putting a piece of cheese on a cracker? I already have three boxes of Triscuits at my house and I don't even have a job.

The bottom line is that this woman and her bonkers butt are blowing peoples' minds. If we don't give Joan the attention that she deserves, she very well could end up dating Justin Beiber.

She sitting here, she supposed to be the franchise player and we in here talking bout Bieber!








*not really research