yikes

So, it's Sunday afternoon, and I was just lazing about after working a bit this morning, and leaving for yoga in a bit. While flipping through the channels on the idiot box, I came across the BBC show "Love Me, Love My Doll". I didn't link just yet, because I wanted you first to imagine what that show could be about. When I saw the title, I was expecting to see some weird fat chicks obsessed with their Barbie Limited Edition dolls and the men who endure hearing about them on a daily basis without somehow stabbing themselves in the eardrum. But it was far, far worse.

The show highlights stories of men who are in love with their built-for-some-lovin' realistic sex dolls. I saw a show about the dolls ages ago on HBO. I found it to be odd, but ok, whatever floats your boat. I'm not one to judge others' sexual fetishes. But love? Seriously? You can't be in love with an inanimate object. I have dozens of pairs of shoes I adore. I'm not in love with them. That's retarded.

Perhaps this will give you an idea of how disturbing the show is:



That guy? He shipped his doll off to a doll specialist to fix her "floppy limbs". Because that's what happens after years of pushing and pulling a latex person into demented sexual positions. Yeah, that's a great image, huh? Now you can have nightmares featuring that creep, just like I will.

edited to add: On the subject of the Real Doll, please read the FAQ, courtesy of BG