NinjaPenguins

Nikki: Summer! I haven’t thought about you in months. How’s your marriage to that upside down toilet brush? Summer: We’re getting divorced. Nikki: But you’ve been through so much! As siblings and lovers. Summer: He’s whoring around with Audra Charles, who is a whore. The problem is definitely that slut and not all the criming and lying I did. Nikki: I didn’t think I’d get to crush another peasant so soon. @@@@@@@@@ Kyle: Can I interest you in a bouffant buffet for dessert? Audra: I think I’d like a refreshing pompsicle. Nate: Sorry, but I have to interrupt before you make the whole restaurant sick. @@@@@@@@ Jack: Thank goodness you’re still alive, Ash. I bet you’ll make me regret saying that within 20 minutes. Ashley: I don’t know what’s more shocking, that I somehow choked on a grape while eating broccoli alfredo or that Satan herself saved my life. Jack: You don’t think that Diane would let you choke to death, do you? Ashley: I don’t think she’d piss on me if I was on fire, unless she could piss gasoline. @@@@@@@@@@ Billy indignantly recalls Jack’s lack of trust in his lying, cheating, gambling ass. Adam saunters in and perches on a nearby stool. Adam: Scotch. Neat. Billy: Ah, yes. The universal elixir for manpain. Adam: I thought I felt a draft. Billy: I think I can finally see the world through your eyes. Your deep, soulful eyes. @@@@@@@ Summer: Grandma, I did lie to Kyle and push him away. Nikki: Newmans can do no wrong. I’m so glad you told me this. I have a meeting with Miss Hot to Trot this afternoon. I shall endeavor to put her in her place, which is under my shoe. Summer: Oh…no. Please don’t do that, grandma. Not for little ol’ me. Nikki: Audra needs a good dose of humility. Why shouldn’t it come from me? I am the most humble person I know. Summer: I suppose I wouldn’t mind. You really twisted my arm. @@@@@@@@@@ Jack: This woman who you thought wanted you dead saw you choking, did a small, albeit tasteful dance and immediately jumped in to save your life. Ashley: I mean, there were a lot of people there. I’m sure that if I’d turned blue, someone would have intervened. Jack: You flatter yourself. But I know you’d do the same for Diane. Ashley: No. In fact, I’d crane kick anyone who tried to help her. Jack: Underneath that brittle, obsessive shell is a loving heart and kind soul. Ashley: Goddamn you’re naive. I pray every day for that bitch to choke on a bottle cap. Jack: Oh, you. I think this could be the olive branch we’ve been looking for. Ashley: Don’t hand me an olive branch, Jackie. I’ll make a Diane popsicle out of it. @@@@@@@@ Audra: If this is about Newman Media, Kyle works there. You can speak freely in front of him. Kyle and Nate eye each other warily, two young gladiators taking each other’s measure and assessing each other’s hair game. Nate can just tell the air is thinner at the top of Kyle’s head. The Abbot scion instinctively realizes that Nate’s side part symbolizes a path to nirvana. They exchange nods of mutual respect. Just kidding. They’re both idiots, ready to unzip and whip ‘em out for the ruler to judge. Nate: Alright. Victoria called, and, well, you didn’t hear this from me, but Adam is dunzo at Newman. He’s cut off completely. Kyle: Awwww yaaassssss. I whooped that ass again! Audra: Huh. That is unexpected. What about the merger? What happens to SNA? Nate: The merger is still on. Nick is back in the Newman Enterprises fold as co-CEO with Victoria. Audra: That’s Nikki’s job. Nate: She’s now CEO of Newman Media. Audra: So Victor lied to me. Nate: Not quite. You’ll be Nikki’s COO, her second in command. Audra: Well, I’m fucked. She doesn’t trust me and acts like I’m the one who graduated from Stripper Pole University, home of the fighting Thigh Rashes. Kyle: What about meeeeeee? @@@@@@@@@ Adam: Something terrible must have happened to make you see things from my perspective. Jack cut off your shoe polish allowance? Billy: Look, dillweed, I had a brief moment of empathy and a jostling in my shorts when you smirked at me. But don’t get it twisted; we ain’t bros. Adam: I wasn’t trying to be your bro, bro. But you can’t relate to me, and it’s not just because you’re emotionally dead inside. I am a cold, selfish, power hungry narcissist, while you are a mere fuck up. You’ll never be on my level. Billy: I don’t disagree. But I get what it feels like to have everyone just waiting for you to fail or go back to your old bad habits. Adam: You don’t know shit. What did you do to Jack this time? Billy: Not a damn thing. He just refuses to trust me. Adam: That’s weird, because he trusts me. In fact, he’s wistfully told me he wishes I was his son or brother. You and Kyle suck all species of ass. Do you even realize you’re only co-CEO because I chose to leave Jabot? Deep in your heart, you know Jack would take me back yesterday. Billy: Don’t presume to know what’s in my heart, fucko. One day, you’ll have sex with Jack’s wife, rub his nose in it, mock his manhood as he suffers PTSD and then have a filthy, shame-soaked fuck party with his wife’s daughter. Then we’ll see who Jack’s favorite is. Adam: …. @@@@@@@@ Jack: I think we should take this as a sign to really make peace, to reunite the family, to spread rainbows, sunshine and confetti, to - Ashley: Okay okay okay. Stop cosplaying as a greeting card. I just wanted you to understand that I’ve been trying to save your life. Metaphorically. And literally. Diane is definitely plotting to kill you for your money and assets. The post-nuptial agreement was a brilliant feint, I will admit. Jack: I miss you, Ash. And I want to get you the help you need. Ashley: I’ll back off, but a lot of this depends on Diane. If she so much as looks at me funny, she’ll be found floating in Jeremy Stark Memorial Lake. Jack: I’m sure she’ll behave, being sane and all. Ashley: What about you? Will you accept Tucker McCall as your spirit animal? He is my husband. Jack: Ah come on. You know that I’m subconsciously halfway there. I just want to go back to fighting over stupid shit, like whether Billy looks more like an anteater or an alpaca. Ashley: Don’t forget the great mortician versus reverse mortgage salesman debate. Remember Traci coming in hot with ID channel schmuck who murders his wife for insurance money, but gets busted after police find corpse disposal research in his Google history? Jack: She is a writer. I hope this means you’ll come back to the family company. It’s where you belong, not at some competing business. Ashley: I’ll think about it. You’ve got me well and truly boxed in here, but given enough time, I’m sure I can find a solid reason to continue my vendetta. @@@@@@@ Audra: I’ve got your back, Kyle. Not to mention your front. Nate: Why would you be in danger, Kyle? It’s not like Nikki has a grudge against you, right? Kyle: Dude, come on. I’m divorcing her granddaughter. Nate: Does Nikki even know that? She doesn’t spend much time among the plebes if she can help it. Kyle: I’m sure Summer has already tattled on me. Audra: When I meet with Nikki this afternoon, I’ll make sure she sees the value of your work, Kyle. Kyle: Thank you. Of course, I’ll still explore other options, just in case. They’re auditioning exotic dancers down at Club Thundernuts, and I really think I have a shot. Nate: You don’t even have to work, motherfucker. Kyle: I do actually. I’ve been in on acquiring a podcast about hats. It would be, uh, my master stroke. Several of them, if you want to know the truth. Kyle wanders off. Audra: I suppose I have to get to my meeting with Nikki. I saw the cobra exhibit at the zoo the other day, so I’m prepared. Nate: Wait a minute. I don’t mean to overstep, but I’d advise against torpedoing your career for that tall glass of skim milk. Audra: Kyle and I are just having fun. We both went into this thing with our eyes wide open. Nate: Does he know that? ‘Cause he doesn’t know much. @@@@@@@@@ Billy: I’m rather intrigued by this tasty morsel you claim to have on Tucker McCall. How much does it cost? What would I have to do to earn it? I’m willing to do things… forbidden things. Naughty things. Adam: Considering how little I have going for me at the moment, I’m going to hold on to any leverage I get. You’re left holding your dick yet again. Fortunately for you, there’s not enough heft to induce carpal tunnel. Billy: Jerk. @@@@@@@ Kyle: Summer. How strange to cross paths in Genoa City’s only park. Summer: Right? No one else gets how amaze balls it is to meet in one of like five places our social circle frequents. Kyle: I’ll, uh, just leave the only outdoor bench in town to you. I’m sure your soft and pampered buttocks need it more than mine do. Summer: How’s Harrison? Kyle: Great. He doesn’t like Brussels sprouts, which is such a fresh, original trope. Summer: Maybe he’s allergic to them. You don’t know his life. Kyle: He also wants an emu for his birthday. Like that’s a real animal. Summer: Poor kid. I tried to explain it to him. That damn Limu Emu has really caught his fancy. Just when we finally convinced him that geckos, lemurs, and sloth were myths. Commercials are, like, so fake. Kyle: Talking mucus blobs are real though. Uncle Billy has a small community of them living in a sinus cavity. So… I hear Chelsea is out of town and Chloe has joined Marchetti. How’s that going? Summer: I don’t know. I spend most afternoons at the amusement park, seeing how wide I can open my mouth on various rides. How’s Newman Media? Kyle: I guess that depends on how wide you opened your mouth around Grandma, doesn’t it? @@@@@@@@@ Nikki: As lady of the estate, I bid you welcome, commoner. You may be seated. Audra: Why are we having a business meeting in your private home? That’s weird. Nikki: Would you care for some tea? I’m sure it’s a step up from the tepid water and sorrow you peons can afford. Audra: That would be lovely. Shouldn’t someone of your status and means have a servant to pour tea? Nikki: I would like to address the Kyle Abbot situation. Audra: He’s fantastic. Hard working, creative, efficient… I hope there’s still room for him here with you being promoted to CEO. Nikki: And just how did you know about Victor’s decision? That information is not for the grubby hands of commoners like yourself. Let me guess. The other interloper, Nate, heard it from Victoria and presumed he had the right to pass it along? Audra: It’s not classified. There was an article about the restructuring on page F2 of the Genoa City Blowhole, right next to the Dear Buttbiscuit column. Nikki: Let us return to the Kyle Abbot problem. As you know, he is married to my beloved granddaughter. Audra: They’re getting divorced. Nikki: So he thinks. Victor has not granted him permission yet, so there is still a chance for reconciliation. Until such time as he grants Kyle his freedom, you will cease and desist playing with Summer’s toys. Perhaps you can find some rusty nails or broken glass to amuse yourself with. Audra: If Kyle wants to move on, that’s his business. Summer isn’t blameless in what happened. She helped Phyllis commit crimes and lied about it. Nikki: Irrelevant! Newmans are always innocent even when proven guilty. Audra: My private life is not your business. I thought I was here to discuss a job, not be slut shamed. Nikki: Oh yes. The job. Here’s a slice of humble pie for you. Your future at Newman Media depends on ending this defiance and leaving Kyle Abbot alone. Summer’s happiness comes before record profits and increased market share. It’s not personal. Audra: I’m not a lawyer, but I’m pretty sure none of this is legal. Nikki: Audra, Audra, Audra. Is there something about my family that provokes your rage? Why must you target us? The worst people target the most vulnerable in our society. Does our Newmanity mean nothing to you? Audra: Less than that. If this is about Noah, I can only tell you that we broke each others’ hearts. I admit I asked him out on a dare from my friends. He was the nerd trying to use a Batman voice to pick up chicks. We went out to dinner, he started droning on about art and six months later I woke up from my coma. The doctors told me I would have woken up after a week had Noah not sat at my bedside every day. Nikki: Poor widdle baby had to take a widdle nap. Waaaaahhhhh. Audra: Am I in or am I out? Nikki: If I had my way, you’d be shipped to our satellite office in Hell. However, your work is very impressive and because you’re a slattern, Victor admires you. You must cool your jets with Kyle, though. So let it be written, so let it be done. @@@@@@@ Jack: I’m glad I found you here, Billy. Wtf? Why am I saying things like that? Billy: Go fuck yourself, you fucking fuck. Jack: I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding earlier. Billy: Is that we’re calling accusations of ratfucking these days? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit, old man. Get to stepping. Jack: Listen. I just came from Ashley’s. We made a real breakthrough today. I sincerely believe this rivalry is coming to a peaceful conclusion. I want to make peace with you too. Billy: You’re pathetic, man. You’re so naive. You’re still as naive as you were when I was dustbusting Phyllis’ tits with my nose vac. My lips harden nips. And now you’re buying the moist cow flops Ashley is selling and thinking they’re chocolate cake. Am I going to have to put my keys in Diane’s ignition to wake you the fuck up? Jack: Grimace. @@@@@@@@@ Nate: Adam. Lol. Adam: Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Newman Enterprises’ new golden boy, the man with the precision part, Nate Hastings! Bravo, sir. Nate: I wouldn’t call myself that. I prefer “The Part Who Steals Hearts” or “Part-y Animal”. Victoria calls me “Fastest Gun in the Midwest.” Adam: Good for you, cowpoke. And good job influencing my father. Nate: Have I impressed Victor? Yes. He brings visiting entrepreneurs to my office and gives them a carpenter’s level to check my hair. I’m also damn good and don’t need to resort to blackmail. Check yourself before you wreck yourself, pal. Adam: Don’t get too comfortable, chum.

And why is a lone punching bag and stool sitting in a spare, beige room? Victor did accurately sum up one of the things that has weighed down the show - no one ever gets to defeat him. That’s why there was zero tension in today’s absolutely pointless scenes. The outcome was pre-determined, yet somehow still lamer than my expectations. Were we supposed to clap and cheer when Nikki verbally abused Adam? I had serious secondhand embarrassment when she was mocking him. Take a fucking seat, asshole. Adam was being a dick about the whole thing, but Victor and Nikki were such horrors that I’d much rather he come out ahead. Victor and his shitwife acting like Victor was some magnanimous, benevolent father who offered Adam nothing but opportunities and wuv was the height of hilarity. The Newman family is a sick, depressing mess and I’m not sure that’s what the writer intends. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather watch Billy inhale various objects than see Nikki, Victor and their two idiot children on my screen blathering about Newman Media.

Dear Buttbiscuit; I guess you could call me a repeat customer, which tells you everything you need to know about my life. I’ve been caught up in what I thought was corporate intrigue, but it turns out my father was just jerking off and ejaculating embalming fluid all over me. We’ve been trying to figure out the leadership structure of a new media company, and I threw my hat in the ring. Was I smug and cocky? I was just mirroring the energy people give me. Anyway, the old scrote ordered all the players to gather in his mausoleum, where we each shared our opinions and vision for the company. My partners’ opinions varied between “I should be launched into the sun” and “I should drop dead”. My dad’s wife dropped by to serve me a vitriol cocktail, and he said nothing as she kept pouring more cyanide in the glass. Considering she birthed my brother, the flatulent fascist boy bander, she’s got some cheek looking down at her nose at anyone. Not only did my father sit there like roadkill as his wife took a strip off me, he gave her the job I wanted and left me with two new partners, Diddly and Squat. I’m not really asking for advice, unless you have some scorched earth tactics I’m not aware of. I am attaching a list of my father’s credit card numbers, their associated pins, security codes and expiration dates. A link to my brother’s massive porn collection is included; just make sure you have a terabyte drive if you wish to download it. Signed Fuck All Y’All Dear Fuck; While I always appreciate fresh masturbatory material, this is some of the most non-erotic and hilarious porn I’ve ever seen. Mrs. Pac-Man getting railed by a ghost? Sex with suitcases? To each his own, I guess. Victor Newman’s credit card information? Wow! I can’t risk any illegal activities as I’m in the thick of real corporate intrigue and need to maintain a low profile, but I’m going to spam that shit all over Reddit. Even though I suspect this is my nemesis, I’m going to help a fellow black sheep out, mainly because I’d love to see Victor Newman finally eat fossilized shit. I recommend low level psychological warfare that leaves a trail of chronic irritation in its wake. He’ll wait for the other shoe to drop, never knowing it’s going to kick him in the jimmies and run. Spread Grape-Nuts throughout his bedding or coffin lining or whatever the hell it is he sleeps in. Leave a trail of LEGO’s from the bedroom to his private bathroom. Add dandruff flakes to his salt shaker. Sew dead fish inside his punching bag. There is truly no end to the hateful pranks one can deploy to poop on pop. Good luck!

Dear Buttbiscuit; I need a cure for manpain, STAT. My brother is a poopyhead, but my dad thinks the sun shines out of his azz. Let’s call my brother, I don’t know, Adumb. Adumb is a dickface, and you can tell by the way everyone calls him a dick to his face. Haha. He got to be raised on a farm by a nice dude, but then he showed up back here with his fancy schmancy degree, looking for a slice of the family pie. He didn’t even pay his dues by having his bio dad pizzle on him since the day he was born. Sorry, buddy. You snooze and then you lose. Amirite? Pops is always like “why can’t you get your hair cut like your brother’s?” “Shave that fucking thing off your head or put a brown paper bag over it. And don’t forget the eye holes this time, clown.” “You look like an overcooked boiled hot dog bitten by a radioactive shower clog.” To add injury to insult, my pipe cozy keeps shouting out Adumb’s name when we’re humping. WTF? My sister shitcanned me for her fuckbuddy while my kid was strapped to a bomb, my mom is doing this creepy whisper thing and might be dead inside, and my gurl won’t pursue my dream of starting a fart foundation. It’s such a good idea! Imagine one place on earth that holds all the information on cheese cutting while doing research on stuff like fartless beans. She just shakes her head and looks sad. I’m on the shitter all the time because of the stress. My ex-wife is banging a guy way hotter than me too. I’m just a billionaire’s son, struggling to be my own dude. No one gets me. I just really want to sit on my couch and watch pickleball with my hand down my shorts, occasionally taking it out for a quick sniff test. Maybe I’m depressed because my brother ruined everything by getting born. Help me, Buttbiscuit. You’re my only hope. Signed Manpain-iac Dear Manpain-iac; The doctor is in! You’ve come to the right place, my friend. I have used my column for years to bring awareness to the silent epidemic of manpain. Real talk: there is no cure, but it can be managed successfully. It used to be that the world would put on a nice lipstick and kiss our hindquarters just because we existed in a penile state. Now we’re expected to not say stupid shit and no one leaves gift baskets full of unearned respect, nookie, and power on our doorsteps anymore. You sound a lot like me, the son of an influential and wealthy man unfairly expected not to fuck up all the time. I also have a jerk of a brother who thinks his talent and hard work and my underhanded skeeviness somehow entitle him not to trust me. Don’t give up and give in though. You can still carve out a satisfying life even without society tickling your balls 24/7. Are you still getting your dick wet? Then who cares what name she calls out! If your lover was once your brother’s, it’s rubbing sandpaper across his hemorrhoids to know you’re together. He thinks about it every single moment of every single day and it is killing him. You can still get away with being deeply sexist and classist in Genoa City, as it is a bit of an aristocracy where you can delude yourself it’s a meritocracy. I don’t know shit about shit, but I’m a CEO with bags of cash so the rubes treat me like I’m awesome. I don’t even have to aspire to mediocre! Embrace that sweet freedom, bud.

Billy owns an iPhony, an exclusive model sold only to the biggest pricks in Genoa City. The iPhony streamlines the process of treating your friends and family like hot garbage. Be even more loathsome by downloading apps from the Crapp Store: DikDok, Nosebook, Sapchat, Snotify and so much more. iPhony is the mobile of choice for Genoa City’s failsons. “It makes sending banana hammock selfies a breeze,” raves Nick Newman. “A fart breeze.”

Did I see that someone floated the idea of Sally and Victor? If you get a packet of Buttbiscuit nudes left on your doorstep, it was NOT an act of vengeance. I think she lucked into Pierson Fode instead of the beady eyed creeper we have now. I was actually referring to Wyatt, who seems to be the most capable pipe layer on B&B. You know, before he got engaged to the jerk who human trafficked his niece and became unpalatable. So Ashley choked on a grape, huh? I always thought if she choked on anything, it would be the lemon she’s constantly sucking on.

Dear Buttbiscuit; You seem like a really big dipshit who regularly alienates the people around him. How do you cope with with friends, family, even strangers for crissakes! treating you like a fresh diaper? My dad hates me, my siblings hate me, my exes hate me and random people feel comfortable telling me I’m garbage right to my face. I am being a dick, but that’s just business. Speaking of business, that’s definitely about to implode too. I have an MBA and tons of experience, but I’m supposed to be on the same level as a latte-slinging therapist and a smooth brained fuckmuppet who once swallowed a bottle cap to see if he could poop out a CaCa-Cola? I think not. Oh, and apparently the love of my life enjoys pumpkin spice moobs. What the fuck, man? Signed; Eat Shit and Die Dear Eat Shit; What the fuck indeed! My brother needs to read about your brother and thank his lucky stars I’m not that guy. Sure, I banged the love of his life, but I have never used a toilet as a doody juice factory. Holy shit, what a choad. I have also struggled with being the bad boy outsider. Men secretly wanted to be me, and all the women secretly wanted to be with me. I was given the reins of power and the freedom to shape my family company. Oh, I may have produced a yacht shaped turd actually. Never mind. Ultimately, I’d just stop riding the business merry-go-round. Everyone knows it’s just going to spin around and around at the same speed, with the same music playing, until it runs out of juice. It will sputter to a quiet stop, no fun will have been had and nothing will have changed since you first hopped on the horse. Everything that happens in Genoa City happens exactly like that. Extra word of advice: make the love of your life yourself. The worst that can happen is your left hand gets jealous of your right. @@@@@@@@@@@ Dear Buttbiscuit; I’ll get right to my question - am I a prostitute? My whatever has offered to fund a business for me, but I only accepted this afternoon after he rubbed one out in my vicinity. He agreed to invest, but I feel stupid and gross now. See, I used to date his brother, who has repeatedly offered me a job. I kinda responded like he committed an act of pure evil. Is it hypocritical to accept my current honey’s cash now that my career has hit the skids? There is one more slightly insignificant problem I could use some help with. My boyfriend is… well, if I put my ear next to his, I can hear the ocean. He’s not totally dim, I mean. He has memorized an impressive catalogue of fart types and knows the rules for thirty-four international variations of beer pong. We don’t have a lot to talk about, except my ex, so we end up doing it a lot. Sex… isn’t his strong suit. Pull my finger jokes aren’t really effective foreplay, even though I try to seem into it. My ex could make my panties drop with just a smoldering look, and I dated a guy in Cali whose pipe work rivaled the Roman aqueducts. Their dicks were unicorns made of cotton candy and crack, while my boyfriend’s is a snail made of Visine. His fascist-curious haircut doesn’t sweeten the pot. Signed; Sandy Vagina Dear Sandy; Will your current boyfriend be funding a brothel for you to work at? If the answer is no, you’re not a hooker. However, I’d advise against getting an infusion of capital from the same spigot you get the hot beef injection from. You do not want the embarrassment of some nosy posy running a black light over your office sofa. I’d insist you get something in writing to keep your bed buddy out of your boardroom, but he doesn’t sound literate. One thing I know the fella can’t read is the room. The bedroom. I myself am a generous, methodical lover who hunts the G spot like it’s my white whale. (Editor’s note: Ahab never got the white whale, limp dick!) I can’t tell from your letter if the jerk you’re dating has any redeeming qualities that make up for the mediocre sex and ugly haircut. You say you dated his brother previously; are you banging this loser out of petty revenge? I once shagged a duck/human hybrid for the lulz, so I get it. What I don’t get is what you’re trying to prove by denying yourself a ride on the magical cotton candy sexicorn. Feel free to email me your phone number so we can discuss your unquenched sexual desires in explicit detail.

Dear Buttbiscuit; You damn well better feature my letter! I don’t care that it was delivered by carrier bat, k? Listen up! I have discovered the joys of holding court in my living room like a mafia don. Family and friends are ushered into my inner sanctum by my butler, Ploppers, where they genuflect and kiss my ring. The last time I felt so powerful and dominant were the five days I held the coral throne of the lost Atlantean Empire. I had my pick of Mediterranean mermaids and I bedded thousands of them in marathon orgies that changed the very currents of the world’s oceans! Why do you think so many modern fish species bear a striking resemblance to me? I digress. Lately my wife has taken to perching next to me as I receive supplicants. She makes snide, cutting remarks with her snoot in the air. I fear she will drive away the steady stream of worshippers I have so artfully cultivated. She has the charm and warmth of Rasputin with all the elegance and refinement of a donkey fart. Modern society often bewilders me. Is it proper to seal one’s bride away in a cryogenic chamber, to be thawed out after one feels she’s learned her place? Youhaveagooddaynow. I Kicked Rasputin in the Jowls Once Dear Jowls; Pardon the pun, but it’s definitely not cool to flash freeze your spouse just because they’re annoying. While Genoa City is soaking in a retrograde misogynistic substance squeezed from the anal glands of a plague rat, I advise rebelling against the prevailing norms. Tell your wife, honestly and tactfully, how her untoward remarks bother you. Perhaps you’ll both learn something from the conversation. As a product of my environment, however, may I also suggest that your lady love needs her merlot uncorked? When was the last time you served her up a piping hot slice of dick pie? If you’re not in the mood for hiking Mt. Orgasm, why not give the gift of the Jabot Jackhammer? The latest in personal pleasure devices, the Jackhammer packs eight inches of steel in a luxurious velvet sheath. It’s from the new Billy’s Boudoir line at Jabot (NOT AN OFFICIAL SPONSOR). Good luck, sir!

We’d still need a decontamination shower because Adam/Elena does nothing to solve the existential emetic that is Sally/Nick. Unless, of course, Nick decides it’s not fun anymore to bed Sally because Adam has moved on. Hmmm… It feels like Nikki doesn’t trust anyone but her children to work at Newman. She casts a bad light on everything Nate and Audra do, and we can’t forget the bee in her bonnet over Adam. Never mind that Audra has more ambition and business acumen in her pinky than that flea infested garbage ape Nikki adopted from a traveling freak show has in his entire body. Not everyone can rise to the lofty heights of co-CEO by letting a decrepit vampire gum their neck for all eternity, Nikki.

Geez, Nikki was so awful today. The best part of her scenes was that neither Audra nor Victor gave a flat out fuck that she was making noises with her piehole. Even though Adam is on one of his dumbass, self-destructive tears, I can’t get too mad at him. Watching Nick and Sally together makes me want to wash down some ground glass with a bleach martini. “Oh Nick, you’re not mad at me for entertaining a job offer from another man are you?” Shut the fuck up, Pleather. It’s amazing that Sally can become instantly unlikable the second Nick enters a room. Buttbiscuit wishes he had that kind of magic. These sophisticated corporate storylines just have my mind in a tizzy. The generic, buzzword-laden dialogue, the complete lack of stakes, the frequent appearance of Nick’s roidy douchebro scowl… pure gold. En showers.

Dear Buttbiscuit; Today, I gazed into the abyss. There were two of them, actually. They didn’t have eyes, yet I felt them gaze back into me. Weird, right? Anyways, this chucklefuck with the twin coal mines and cadaver’s profile is my brother-in-law, and he is trying to get his sister (my wife) and his older brother to reignite a feud they just called off. Personally, I think he’s a smarmy, ambitious little snake who doesn’t feel alive unless he’s betraying his family. How do I get this unlikeable clod to calm his tits? Signed, Tucker McCall Dear Tucker; There is a great deal of hostility wafting off your email. I don’t know this mysterious brother-in-law of whom you speak so poorly, but isn’t possible you’re exaggerating what an ass he is? Maybe some duplicitous dick wagon lured him into this so-called feud with promises of sitting him on the corporate throne with a gaudy scepter and crown, fulfilling his lifelong dream. Or maybe, just maybe, the playa is getting played because your brother-in-law is taking the game to a whole nutha level. Bitch. Dear Buttbiscuit; Thanks for your sage advice. If I may gently correct you, my brother-in-law is playing tiddlywinks with rabbit turds. Adam Newman stepped to me the other day and I dropkicked him back to daycare. BIL hilariously overestimates his own talents and will, per usual, fall dick first into a puddle of mucus. Tucker Motherfuckin’ McCall Dear Tucker; Fuck you. Thanks for writing in! @@@@@@@@@ Dear Buttbiscuit; My co-workers keep emphasizing the word ‘part’ around me, and I just can’t figure out why. Maybe they’re planning a surprise PARTy for me? I’m sure if I had any friends, they’d tell me I was crazy. What I really want to know is if it’s possible to be too successful? I’ve been in my current career for only a short time, yet titans of industry seek my advice, I’m putting the D in R&D and my executive bidet now has a warming testicular cradle attachment. I’m not even worried that my paramour is expressing interest in her old swizzle stick. I’m truly at the height of my powers. Signed, They Hate Me ‘Cause They Ain’t Me Dear Ain’t Me, After combing through the various parts of your letter, I want to set aside your question about success. Not to brush it off, but I think we need to tease out the cause of your workplace paranoia. Perhaps you’re only hearing strands of conversation and not getting the full context. Don’t get a hair across your ass when there could be a perfectly innocent explanation is my advice. Now, can you be too successful? In my opinion, you should never relax; success is never permanent and staying hungry will give you plenty of bang for your buck. While it’s okay to be confident, having a humble side is part of winning people over. Let me highlight one more thing: Keep an eye on your lady love. Her ex sounds like an irresistible sex taco; a hard shell just filled with smoldering spice and heat. Insert Taco Bell ‘dong’ noise here.

Dear Buttbiscuit; I’m dick-tating this urgent letter to my little mechanic dude so you can give me some of your sweet, sweet advice. Plus the spellcheck on my phone cussed me out the other day, and my mechanic won the Walnut Grove spelling bee. LOL! Anyhoo, I just told my brother’s ex that I’d like her to be my baby momma (no rings!!!). Thing is, my doctor says I can’t have any more kids because I tried the banana in the tailpipe trick. I think it would have been fine if the car hadn’t been running, since it turns out that carbon monoxide is as dangerous for the crotch cannon as it is for your mouth hole. My bro already knocked this chick up, so I kinda have to too or my nads will end up in a jar in his freezer. Them’s the rules. How can I dunk hard on my bro when my schlong’s gone wrong? Signed, Not So Prime Mate Dear Mate; There’s a lot to unpack here. Fortunately, you have come to a certified expert in crushing your brother’s soul like a wine grape under the foot of an earthy vineyard wench. I’m not even sure you need my advice, considering you’ve already taken the most important step - leaving your penismobile in your brother’s favorite parking spot. This is the ultimate boss move. I highly recommend having sexual intercourse in places your brother frequents so that he’ll smell your dewy sweet sex musk wherever he goes. Don’t worry about making babies, as long as one of you has a child, you’re golden. I’m currently easing myself into a fatherhood role with my current lover’s son. I’m most concerned about the extremes you’re going to in order to enhance the masturbatory experience. One should be able to enjoy a soul-searing orgasm with a minimalist spank kit: hand, lubricant, cum catcher (I recommend silk or burlap. Trust me.) Remember, not every hole needs filling. Good luck!

I would place a small wager, maybe a yacht owned by your family’s cosmetic company. Today was tedious. Blah blah blah. Dear Buttbiscuit; My son, “Condor”, is being bullied at school, even after I sent a copy of my world changing video game to every student who attends. He wants to go to a different school near his grandmother. I know it’s the best thing for him, but I’m super sad. My number one problem, though, is that Condor’s father and my new boyfriend sometimes seem to be on the verge of making out. Can I trust them not to while I’m helping Condor acclimate to his new school? Sincerely, Schmatta Than You Dear Schmatta; Relax. I’m certain your beau is trustworthy, devilishly handsome and accustomed to passing the lonely hours lovingly smoking his salmon by hand. He also sounds like a captain of industry, devoted family man and generous lover. A daily exchange of naked selfies should keep you both from straying. Honestly, Condor’s father sounds like the kind of monster who tortures small animals and runs over children. I think your boyfriend will be able to resist. @@@@@@@ Dear Buttbiscuit; I’m up for a big promotion, but I feel rather ‘meh’ about it. How can I take pride in it when I’m the only employee? Pretty sure my girlfriend is high as fuck too, which isn’t the greatest look for my new position. I’m avoiding the real question here. How can I tactfully tell my lady that neon prairie pimp ain’t it? Signed, Perplexed Lumberjack Dear Perp; I believe I saw the clothing item you are referencing on a local proprietor. There is simply no easy way to tell your lover that her outfit has given you psychic abrasions. The best option is to tear the offending attire during an evening of unbridled passion. If you’re like me, she’ll be amply satisfied and forget all about her wearable barf. Congratulations on your promotion! Take pride in it. I took pride in mine even though it was a gift-wrapped bone tossed to me by my brother. Being rich and connected is awesome. @@@@@@@ Dear Buttbiscuit; My love muffin’s ex is trying to reheat their flavorless tofu casserole of a relationship. He much prefers my zestier menu, with its broad range of appetizers and decadent desserts. Still, there’s a little part of me that worries she has a secret ingredient that can win him over. Please advise. Signed, Paint Me Like Your French Ladies Dear Paint; From your letter, I can tell you’re a simmering pot of sexuality just waiting to boil over. I think you’ll find your love muffin has little urge to visit the diner he used to enjoy. Perhaps, in private correspondence, you could send me the name and number of this joint he used to frequent. My favorite place is closed for renovations.

Well, I finally watched Friday’s crackling, romantic cliffhanger of an episode. How does one recap the hairpin twists and turns the plotmobile takes through Genoa City? Are there even words in the English language that can adequately capture the raw intensity? I couldn’t find them. Connor expressed the most complex and relatable emotions, easily becoming the highlight of the episode. It’s a shame he wasn’t able to reveal the whole truth. The kids at Walnut Grove tease him because his grandpa is undead and loving it, but Connor’s afraid to admit it lest those students get invited to Victor’s and Nikki’s guest cottage made of gingerbread. Fortunately, Billy was there to offer his wise counsel. Buttbiscuit rappin’ with the yutes is a special treat, my friends. Poor Connor probably keeps wondering why his mother dispatches the local funeral director to advise him. Certainly it’s economical for Billy to get his makeup done where he moonlights, but that doesn’t make him emotionally savvy. Mad respect for Diane and Jack making important financial decisions based on appeasing Ashley’s bottomless well of spite. Dunking on a sibling with a picture of a legal document is exactly the content I want from veteran soap characters. I’m sad Tucker is moving out of the manse; his interactions with the Abbots made my day. Was it just me, or was Ashley comparatively chill about Tucker’s scandalous tidbit once she realized he wasn’t cheating on her? Adam would probably get more satisfaction and less pain giving himself a vasectomy with a can opener than he would talking to Sally. It’s Adam’s fault that Victor rescinded the job offer. Huh. I’m sure a man who tried to buy your baby was operating in good faith from the very beginning. But then Adam Adamed and ruined everything. Shut the fuck up, lady. Go keep an eye on Nick; from the looks of his hair, he’s about to start stockpiling weapons and survivalist foodstuffs in the bunker he built to hide from the black helicopters. On the other hand, Sally’s scenes with Connor were very nicely done. It was sweet that he acknowledged the baby, and Sally made him feel comfortable enough to confess he was running away. She was straightforward about calling Adam while Connor fetched her water instead of tricking him or being a condescending scold. I did chuckle when Sally said she missed Connor. Maybe if he lived up Nick’s azz, she’d see the kid more. Everyone will be flocking to the town swizzle stick now for ineffective advice and dream interpretation. Dear Buttbiscuit…

I’ve never quite developed a taste for westerns in my four decades of reading and watching television. Now I see the problem. Boes wasn’t writing them. P.S. Because I need new specs, I kept reading Nell as Neil and wondered how Victoria earned that nickname.

Ashley is upset he exists. I’m starting to think her problem is not Diane, but a burning hatred for her brother. She’s always been varying levels of assholish toward him. Pro-tip: Buttbiscuit is never pretending to be a tool. He is 100% authentic dickhammer in a dissipated mortician costume. Spying on his sister is simply adding a new layer of douchebaggery, like a fuckwrench wearing a shitchisel mask. Billy is the Swiss Army Knife of schmucks. Just don’t ask to use his corkscrew. Gee, I’m sorry I missed Sally. There was a time I might have actually meant that. I’m surprised Nick hasn’t suggested running Adustus out of her room. He could be a straight creeper 24/7!

Audra: I heard you’re getting married today. Congratulations. Tucker: Where’s my gift? Audra: Up your ass and to the left. Tucker: Not what I wanted to hear. Audra: There’s a minor delay. Tucker: Not the best choice of words. Audra: I’m working on it, dickbag. Tucker: I don’t want anything to ruin my special day. I’m a bit of a groomzilla. @@@@@@@ Audra: Didn’t you take the day off to attend your aunt’s wedding? Kyle: I’ve decided to treat my entire family like they’re escapees from an explosive diarrhea colony. I dodged my dad’s wedding, so why the hell would I attend the nuptials of a non-sperm donor? Audra: May I join you? Kyle: You enjoy my weak game. I’d love for you to join me. @@@@@@@@ Abby: This all looks so beautiful, Aunt Traci. Traci: I love weddings. I get to leave the drab offscreen world behind and act like a mother hen to you dysfunctional dips. Oh, and the drivel I get to spout is so heartwarming. Abby: It’s just like one of your romance stories. Traci: It’s amazing how well those turn out considering I haven’t tasted passion since triceratops roamed the earth. Oh, and you look quite lovely in that almost flesh-toned full body fabric wrap. Ashley: The bride has arrived! Traci: You look nervous. Are you nervous? Ashley: Wtf, Traci. Traci: Sorry. Tucker just seems to have so much fun trolling that I wanted to give it a go. @@@@@@@@ Jack: I’m going to say things about Tucker McCall that are nearly identical to what Ashley says about you. Don’t point it out. I’m well aware. Diane: Are you sure you want to go? I definitely do. This dress makes me feel like a superhero. Jack: Peptogirl and the Swoosh. Yeah, we have to go. It’s all part of the game. Diane: Sometimes I think we’re all trying to play cribbage on a Monopoly board with marbles and Scrabble tiles. Then Billy inhales the word buttbiscuit and we all lose. Jack: You’re worried about Billy, aren’t you? Diane: I think we’re asking too much of him. Exposing him to the temptation to betray you is like playing chicken with a chicken. One of you gets poked in the eye and there’s shit everywhere. Jack: I still trust that big dummy. Maybe it’s his ‘I’m shilling final expense benefit plans’ suit or that intense ‘no, I’m not a reanimated corpse, now follow me into this crawlspace’ gaze. He cares about the family business. @@@@@@@ Victor: TuckerMcCall, I’ll be damned. Tucker: Definitely. Victor: You finally tricked Ashley into marrying you. Tucker: For the second time. She might just be a smitten kitten. Victor: Do you know what you are? A third rate con artist You remind me of Benjamin Franklin, k? We were working on a new method for powering mills at the local tavern. Horse farts. That’s where the term horsepower comes from, k? I was in a foul mood, the weather turned bad and Ben was being a damned know it all. I told him to go fly a kite, k? The rest is history. He stole my thunder, you got that? Tucker: You guys had a real stormy relationship. LOL! Victor: I’ll tell you something else. Ashley is only going through with this sham marriage to spite Jack and Diane. Tucker: How odd that despite years of Ashley’s creepy, unnatural attachment to your grave scented ass, you still have no clue about what drives her. Spiting her brother is just icing on the wedding cake. Victor: You fool. Ashley will never leave her father’s company. That means your new company is a ruse. Ashley plans to take over Jabot, and you’re along for the ride. Get your own car, hippie. Tucker: To you, sir, I say “duh.” Victor: I know you two bought that European company as a base to start your own business. Tucker: I must say I’m impressed, mainly because it’s in the script. Victor: Ashley is playing you, k? I’d bet you $100, but fuck Ben Franklin with a muzzleloader. Tucker: I shall float to my wedding on a cloud of your well wishes. Victor: Ride a farting horse instead, k? I’ll die on that damn hill! @@@@@@@ Chelsea: Don’t you look handsome? Like the world’s sexiest funeral director. Billy: It’s the suit. Very slimming to my nostrils. You look.. lovely. Shiny shit brown is still shit brown, yo. Chelsea: Thank you. I’m rather nervous about this wedding. The vibes aren’t quite right. Billy: I need you to keep my raggedy ass in line. @@@@@@@@@ Abby: This is a great time to interrogate you about the truce I brokered between you and Uncle Jack. Ashley: Blah blah blah Jack. Abby: Look, Jack doesn’t see what a conniving weasel you are, but I can see you’ve redlined past the Phyllis limit when it comes to Jabot and Diane. Ashley: foams at mouth. Abby: You know, you seem stressed. You don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. Ashley: I must get married. I’ll tell you this, though. If that twit fucks me over again, I’ll turn his ass inside out so he’s genuinely full of shit. Abby: Not if I kill him first. Ha ha. It’s funny because I ran him over with a car once. @@@@@@@@ Chelsea: What seems to be the problem, William? Billy: I’m just so deep and sensitive that this high stakes undercover mission for Jabot is really testing my resolve. Chelsea: I see. Billy: I told you about Jack and Diane wanting me to spy on Ashley and Tucker. I needed to discover their game plan. This is the kind of operation you only see in critically acclaimed thrillers. Chelsea: You did tell me, and by telling me again, you’ve wasted valuable time we could have spent discussing my feelings. Billy: Ashley’s plan is absolutely diabolical. It’s heinous. I am legit the only thing standing between Jack and a cosmetics apocalypse. By the way, write down “apocalypstick”. Jabot is going to capture the youthful edge lord market with that shit. Chelsea: To the point, Billy. I have an urge to stop at Bob’s Big Boy before we land at the wedding. Billy: She wants me to provoke Diane into a downward spiral of madness and bad decisions that will crater Jabot and leave it vulnerable to her new company. Then she and Tucker will put me in charge of Jabot. Chelsea: So Jack would be out of the company, betrayed by both siblings, destroyed by Diane and ripe for plucking by that vulture Phyllis. Billy: I know, I know. It’s very tempting. It’s my dad’s legacy, I love my sister and backstabbing Jack is like pushing the button on a dopamine injector. There’s still a charming rogue inside me who believes in chasing the odds and the thrill of the gamble. Holy fuck, I’m deep. Chelsea: It would be nice to have someone charming inside me. Billy: Just make sure I don’t give into my wild, untamed nature. Watch me like a hawk. A turd brown hawk. Chelsea: After all you’ve done for me, I’d think you could do more. But I’ll smell your farts at the ceremony if you’ll huff mine tonight. Billy: I’m getting a raging nose boner as we speak. @@@@@@@@ Abby: You look amazing. Now let’s do something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Ashley: This isn’t my first rodeo. Your father used to let the clowns watch. Abby: I like traditions! My favorite is the one where you get to move into the family mansion of the spouse you cheated on. Yay traditions! Here’s gift number one. Ashley: It’s the Medicalert bracelet from when you developed that dill allergy. Abby: I was ten. You bought it for me at a real jewelry shop in Paris. I felt so grown up, even though I’d cried so hard when I had to give up that fancy herb bread. Ashley: That dill dough from your favorite patisserie would have wrecked you, honey. Abby: Here’s a collection of naked pictures of you. Ashley: What? Oh, my baby book. Where on earth did you get this? Abby: I found it in a box of Dina’s old stuff. I was rooting around in the Abbott attic, looking desperately for the fucks I used to give about all my family’s bullshit. Fucks not found, but that was. Ashley: I miss Mom. I wonder what she’d say if she were here right now. Abby: Knowing Dina, probably good-bye. @@@@@@@@ Kyle: Tell me what’s going on. Come on. Please, please, please. Audra: Knowledge is power, Kyle. I don’t know if I trust you not to use my problem against me. Kyle: You know what else is power? This hair. Audra: It’s just a personal thing I need to take care of. Kyle: Same with my hair. Is there any way I can get you to confide in me? Audra: Perhaps we should continue this conversation upstairs. Kyle: Deploying Pompadour of Love. @@@@@@@@@@ Victor: Security? Grimace is running around my damn house again. Why don’t you just let the Hamburglar and Ronald McDonald hold ground beef orgies in my den? Nikki: Victor, what are you shouting about? Victor: Never mind, Security. Hello, my baby. Ashley is actually going to marry that bastard McCall! Nikki: Perhaps one day I’ll give a thought to how Ashley spends her time. We have more pressing problems to deal with. Their names are Nate and Audra. Victor: Nate and Audra? They are of no consequence. Nikki: Naturally I forbade the rabble to breathe a single word about the unwholesome idea of merging Newman Media with Adam’s little lark. Yet Nate had the audacity to suggest it to Victoria. You see, he wanted to get both of us on board before you returned from your ancestral homeland. Very suspicious. Victor: The peasants become more unruly with each passing century. Nikki: Then Audra approached me with the very same idea. I gave her my most disdainful ‘I can smell every ounce of flatulence ever released by your pert bottom’ sneer and reminded her to never make eye contact with you. Victor: I see. Tell me what you make of it, k? I need to dunk on somebody today after Tucker blocked me at the rim. His unflappability and sass reminds me of Socrates. Everyone believes he was made to drink hemlock as a punishment for his outlandish philosophy. Nonsense! He choked on a seashell while making a smart remark about the village toga maker’s wife, k? Nikki: Um. Well, of course Nate is simply being his ambitious self, trying to impress you with his business savvy and efficiency. Victoria cooled his ardor using her feminine wiles and he promptly retreated. I cannot see what Audra has to gain by giving Adam power over her realm. Victor: Who benefits from all this maneuvering? Nikki: Adam. Victor: Obviously. Now I’m in the mood for a Happy Meal, yougotthat? @@@@@@@ Kyle: Now that’s what I call a business conference. Audra: It’s called chemistry. Kyle: I flunked that in school. Our sexytimes are more like gym class. I rubbed my thighs raw climbing that rope, if you know what I mean. Audra: Not really. Kyle: Tell me your troubles. Audra: Something has come up from when I worked with Tucker and it could bite me on the butt. Kyle: I wish I’d known you were into that. Audra: Someone is holding the information over my head, and if I don’t somehow convince Victor to merge two companies, they’ll make it public. Worse yet, they want it done yesterday. I could have my career ruined. You could lose your job too. Kyle: Hmmmm. Are you getting anywhere with the Newmans? Audra: No. it’s like talking to a wall. Or Nick. Nothing works. Kyle: This is about Adam, right? He is the root of all evil. I know how to handle that guy. Audra: You’re going to whine to your father until Adam gives up and goes away? Kyle: My idea is so simple, yet so bold, daring and outside the box that it will change the whole game. Kyle jumps out of bed, completely naked except for a single sock. He pulls a whiteboard out of parts unknown and sketches an esoteric string of numbers, variables and cryptic symbols. He completes his plan with a flourish, having drawn a stick figure with the name Adam next to it and a big red X over both. Kyle: Brilliant, right? Audra: How did I not come up with this? I’m going to put this in motion ASAP. Kyle: I think I’ll rub one out before the wedding. Katherine had an extensive hat display in the foyer that Abby maintains, so it’s best to milk it dry. You never know when a nurse’s cap might try some sexual healing on you. @@@@@@@@ Abby: I’m sorry Dominic couldn’t be your ring bearer today. Tucker: Hey, I’m sorry he caught that invisibility bug from Harrison. Ashley: PSSSSSST! Abby! Abby: What is it, Mom? Ashley: Is everyone here? Because I’m getting married. This shit is going down today, hell or high water. Abby: Uncle Jack, Diane and Aunt Traci aren’t here yet. I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Ashley: Fuck ‘em. That’s what Miss Manners would say. Diane probably had them stop somewhere so she could kick a stray cat. I’m not waiting around to get married. Jack: Sorry we’re late! I hope I didn’t miss anything, like Ash tearfully declaring she can’t go through this. Ashley: Go stick your dick in a food processor, nerd. Let’s get this show on the road! Traci: I’m so glad I worked so diligently on a wedding that was about to start without me. Father Dingleberry: Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today, in a mansion capable of holding significantly more people. This is really it, huh? Ah well, have you two written your own vows? Tucker: I’m going to wing it. Ashley: That’s what we do. We wing things. Tucker: Charming banter. Ashley: Weird flirty banter. Don’t mind me if I say I love you like I’m admitting to a crime. Father Dingleberry: I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss my ass. Genoa City’s high society weddings blow. Kyle: Looks like I missed everything. That’s a real shame. Traci: No, the real shame is in your walk. You reek of sex. Chelsea: Congratulations! We’re so happy we could be here to enrich your nuptials. Billy: What she said. Ashley: Congratulate me, Jack. Jack: I’ll let Peptogirl do the honors. Diane: I wish you well. In hell. Devon: Congratulations… Dad. Cringes. Tucker: What the hell, kid? Devon: I thought I might be smote by divine forces for calling someone other than Neil dad. Tucker: I’ll stand a few feet away from you for a week just in case, son. Abby: Hey, we won’t have to fight about which grandparent to spend the holidays with! Yay! Jack: Ash, I have a wedding gift for you. I’m releasing all your Jabot related assets back to you, no strings attached. Don’t read the fine print. I also included Diane’s deed to your headspace, in case you want to evict her. She’s been living there rent free, you know. Ashley: Well played, you bastard. Abby stares at her mother with great intensity. She could feel a sense of foreboding, an undercurrent of trouble making the hair on her arms stand up. Ashley was about to pull some shit, like a team of oxen pulling a fertilizer factory. Billy: Another successful mission. I maintained my cool, suave demeanor. Chelsea: I wonder if Abby knows that bowel movement brown is ideal for camouflaging nips. @@@@@@@@@@@@ Victor: I’ll be damned. Audra is here. Nikki: Oh these impertinent peons! I may come down with the vapors if she brings up the merger again. Victor: Send her in, k? Audra: Mr. Newman, Mrs. Newman. I didn’t expect to find you both here. Nikki: I live here, you trollop. If you’re here to discuss the merger, save your unearned breath. Audra: I’ve got a problem and decided I needed to lay my cards on the table. Adam has dealt me a bad hand and my back is against the wall. He’s pressuring me to sell the merger. Victor: Did you know I used to play cards with King Tut? Of course, the cards were either papyrus or stone, so it was easy to cheat. Which I did with reckless abandon. Technically I own half of Luxor, Egypt, yougotthat?

Sentencing Phyllis to community service is more of a punishment for Genoa City than it is a form of restitution. What is she going to do? Polish the dumpsters around town until they’re clean enough to hump on? Raise money for velour awareness? What a joke.

It’s Fuck Off Friday at the Young & the Restless! Who, in the great metropolis of Genoa City, needs to fuck off today? I’m glad you asked! Hey, Nikki, can I interest you in the merger of fuck and off? Swanning about GC with your nose in the air, barking orders and issuing edicts like some third rate banana republic general. His lordship Nosferatu does not like the idea of a merger, thus it must never be brought up again. One does not defy the mummified autocrat! You suck at business, civility and raising employee morale. Your kids suck too. Victoria, I think there is something you and Adam can agree on, and that is that you both should fuck off. Cry about Victor undermining you, turn around and kowtow to the old poltergeist, rinse and repeat. It’s sad that Summer learned to distance herself from a toxic parent before you did. Your father wants to keep the two companies separate because he wants you and Adam to fight. Dumbass. Adam, buddy, you gotta fuck off with this Newman Media obsession. I believe Adustus is actually Latin for “off may you fuck.” Newman Media is just a stand in for Sally. We all know it. You can also shove the condescension you’re dripping all over Sharon and Audra directly up your toot chute. Nate: Check out this smarmy, bootlicking coward. To be fair, he did warn Audra that he was only looking out for number one; to be fairer, his quick departure from the plan still makes him look like a number two. The whole Newman Media/Adustus/Kirsten saga is dumb and boring, and Nate’s balls out ambition and slimy maneuvering is just one PART of the problem. Maybe he’ll be promoted to CFO. I think you know what that stands for. Lauren: Are you out of your damn mind? What exactly do you get out of this friendship besides empty, flowery words? Fuck off for your own benefit. Phyllis: The reigning champion in this category, ladies and gentlemen. Sure, Carson stuck around after Jeremy Stark paid him and peeped in the window hoping to catch some hot raptor on velour action. Sure he did. Everything you did, you did for your kids. Blowing up that ambulance with some poor sucker’s body inside has paid serious dividends for Daniel and Summer. Swim a victory lap in your crocodile tears, asshole. Caw caw!

It’s clear as mud. Ashley is dead certain that Diane is going to magically fail at her job because of some innate evil quality that Diane possesses. I guess Billy is meant tap into that and nudge Diane toward… I don’t know, buying a sex yacht to lose in a poker game? It’s all vague hand waving nonsense. Ashley is just thrilled to have Billy agree with her that it’s crucial to destroy Jack and Jabot in order to save them. Her plan seems to be wishful thinking and trying to manifest Diane’s downfall through the power of concentrated vitriol. This show should be called The Vague & the Illogical.

I feel like JG is trying to bore the audience into a catatonic state because he absolutely hates us. I was going to recap today, but I think summarizing the key points will suffice. Audra: Every single person was a dick to me today. Even Diane, who knows what it’s like to be shunned. I’mma start calling “the singer” something new. “The rock star” should suffice. Nate: I’ll be a total dick to Audra today. Then I’ll use my actual dick to persuade Victoria to accept my sweet business plan. I hope no one drops a truth bomb on me today. Abby: Let me help. Let me help. Please let me help. I don’t think I actually helped. Tucker: They see me trolling, they be hating. Jack: Ashley claims that Diane turned me into an insipid dope. I’ve been a hopelessly romantic nitwit for years before Diane ever returned. Speaking of Diane, I hope she finds the other shoulder to her outfit. Diane: Kyle will love it if I’m mean to his girlfriend. I have no idea why I’m stanning his marriage to that lying liar who lies. My day will be a success if I get the chance to crack Nikki’s face. Victoria: When Nate came into the office and said he was happy to find both me and my mother in one place, I thought he was going to suggest a threesome. I was a little intrigued. Nikki: Someone dares defy Victor in business matters? He was there at the founding of the Dutch East India Company, so I’m certain he knows best. Possessing different ideas than Victor is heresy, blasphemy and sacrilege. I shall have the servants give the oubliette a brisk sweep and place a bucket for Nate’s bodily functions. Ashley: My father’s legacy must be protected at all costs, even if it means gambling on Billy. Daddy would be so proud that I’m going to stab his beloved son in the back, using his less beloved son to do it. I’ll place Jabot under my new company’s umbrella while trading on Jabot’s built in customer base and sterling reputation. Could anything represent John Abbott more perfectly? P.S. I am not a crackpot. Billy: My sister is a crackpot. I resent her exploiting my natural ability to radiate big prick energy to benefit herself. Maybe I’m too good at this asshole thing. I don’t like the way Tucker is smirking at me. I think I’ve been made. Adam: Today I’m going to embrace my inner douchebag. Adustus Adustus Adustus. Fuckin’ amazing word. Why does Nick eat a lightbulb every time I say it? Audra needs to give me Newman Media like yesterday. Why doesn’t that statutory rapist have a name? Jesus christ, make one up!

I still can’t believe the unintentional comedy gold of Summer on that goddamn roller coast. Was I supposed to cheer? Laugh until I ruptured my own appendix? Develop a phobia of giant face holes? Too late, show: Billy’s nostrils have already scarred me for life. I hope that when any of us fake our own death, frame an innocent woman for murder, kill a man and knowingly make our children accessories, we, too, will be able to expedite our hearing and sit our boney maroney asses down before a judge who conveniently has nothing else scheduled. I wonder if Judge Doody went to the same law school as the B&B judge who let Sheila Carter walk free? The Heather actress deserves an Emmy for claiming Phyllis showed great character with a straight face. I legit laughed out loud.

Yesterday we had Victoria’s heartfelt soliloquy about love and the cruel ways in which it has eluded her. Who wasn’t touched in their special place as she declared herself exceptional in many things, except, alas, her ass taste in men? Today we were once again given a light frisking of our souls during the Liberation of Summer Newman Abbott, bobblehead. Remember, my friends, do not stare long into the abyssal pie hole lest it gaze back into you as it rides a roller coast while jarringly bad music plays. As a woman, nothing is more relatable to me than the existential struggles of two privileged nepo baby dipshits. When I see a JG script play out, I think “this guy gets me.” Daniel and Mariah are starting a greeting card company and were testing different cliches, emotional high fructose corn syrup and and moist nuggets of parental wisdom glurge on Lucy, right? I rarely think this, but Daniel and Mariah really needed to shut the fuck up. Thus ends the saga of Jeremy Stark, a tale told by a fucking idiot, full of crap and nonsense and signifying a shart in velour pantaloons. Phyllis wouldn’t recognize the truth if it hopped a ride on one of the rabid hamsters dancing the quickstep in her head. Yes, it’s hard finishing a storyline sometimes, but I find launching the villain into the sun’s sweltering core via giant trebuchet is a reliable narrative move. Show can spring for a cheesy amusement park ride that looks like a scene from every cornball 80’s family sitcom intro ever, but the tightwads in charge can’t splurge on a green screen shot of Phyllis tumbling through space? I’m starting to see why Chance and Sharon hooked up. They both love giving advice and providing free therapy. I hope he stops asking Summer to unload all her emotional garbage on him before I lose all respect for him. It’s such a one sided friendship

Nate: Back so soon? I thought I had a few days to part my hair. Victoria: Let’s fuck. @@@@@@@@ Phyllis: Whoa whoa whoa. Whoa. You want assurances that if I become your company’s tech officer, I’ll behave? That I’m contrite about blowing up my life with psychological C4? Where is this all coming from? Sharon: Look, bish, this is more than a business to me. Cameron Kirsten was a shit eating toad taint. I want to cleanse the stain he left, make something good out of the bad. You can appreciate that, right? Phyllis: Oh, because I’m poison? Cyanide in human form? Like the Joker would squeeze me and use my juices to formulate a toxin to murder Gotham? How rude. Sharon: Karma is a bitch. A messy bitch. I’d hate for there to be collateral damage when she launches a nuke directly up your scrawny ass. @@@@@@@@ Summer: Can we be civil today, you two faced ratfucker? Daniel: When we talk about our mom? Maybe. Summer: Oh lord, is this about Christine’s silly blah blah about putting me in jail? Dude, superheroes don’t get arrested. I’m Supergirl! Daniel: And your civilian identity is a puckered asshole? Look, Summer, you fucked around. It’s time to find out. Christine will be your tour guide. Summer: Oh, you. She’s just trying to rizz up my mom. Daniel: What? I don’t think you’re using that right. Also, didn’t Mom tell you about the deal? I mean, since you’re up each others blowholes these days. Summer: Deal? Daniel: All our mother has to do is plead guilty to all charges and you won’t see the inside of a jail cell. Summer: Noooooooooo! Caw caw caw! @@@@@@@@@@ Tucker: What the fuck, Audra? What the fucking fuck? Malice or incompetence? Both? I am feeling very not zen right now. Audra: Don’t crash into my pad like a common Phyllis and step to me. Tucker: Did you do it to screw me over? A little time bomb to blow up in my face years later? Did you just compare me to Phyllis? What the fuck? Audra: I have no idea what you’re talking about. Tucker: A singing perv who scammed on underage girls? I told you to take care of that. Audra: I did. I suppose you want to blame me because some hack got a hold of your character and implied he was statutory rape tolerant lest he get the upper hand on beloved heroine Phyllis? Tucker: I fired all those public relations motherfuckers for their bad advice and ass covering. And Phyllis is more like heroin. Horse doctored with uppers and formaldehyde. Audra: That’s a terrible thing to say. No one would ever smuggle Phyllis through customs in their anus. @@@@@@@@@@ Victoria: You and my mom ran Newman for a few days. How did it go? Nate: Smooth as me. We cleaned out the banana bunker and gained space for 50 cubicles. Victoria: Good. I wanted to hire security to monitor Newman’s security team. Nate: She even invited my fine ass to lunch. Victoria: She better not be trying to steal you. Nate: I mean, I’d tap Nikki if macking MILFs could grease the skids to the top. She just wanted to have a frank discussion about us and my intentions. Victoria: How adorkable. What did you tell her? Nate: I friend zoned your ass. Well, and I did dangle the possibility of falling in love, although I’m sort of in a committed relationship with myself right now. Victoria: I approve. I’m not really into serious relationships anymore after my illness faking husband turned into the son of an oilman with the menacing quotient of a baby otter wearing a pompom hat. Nate: I also was very direct and told her I saw us running Newman together, side by side. We just have such an incredible connection, we could run the world, to be honest. Victoria: I like what we have. You wring my mop out when I need it and agree with everything I say. Nate: You confirm my high opinion of my own business skills, sexual prowess and follicular architecture techniques. We’re the perfect couple. @@@@@@@@ Daniel: Mom needs to take that deal. I know she won’t, because she’s a sleeveless horror, but if she cared as much as she says - Summer: You’re a fool, Daniel. What good is Mom to us in jail? There are plenty more relationships in my life she hasn’t ruined yet. Daniel: I’ve always wondered what it would be like to explain quantum mechanics to a spaghetti squash. This must be close. Summer: You don’t understand our bond, Daniel. Our shared Newmanity. You didn’t receive the gift of being raised by Phyllis because you were such an ugly baby she had to give you to Danny, who fortunately lost his sight after staring into Mom’s veneers. Daniel: Did she tell you that? Summer: Maybe. We’re more than mother and daughter, Daniel. I am but an extension of my mother’s identity, a conduit for her agenda, a chip off the old cookie. Daniel: You’re describing the child of a narcissist. Oh, and an asshole. Summer: I’m telling Mommy, boy scout! Caw caw! @@@@@@@@ Audra: Who gives a shit about any of this? You did the right things when you realized what was going on. Tucker: You sent me an email that said “Everything taken care of. Hands clean”! Do you know how that sounds? What the fuck, Audra? Audra: Why is this coming out now? Getting too popular for your own good? Tucker: One of the Newman brats is in charge of my old company or hadn’t you noticed? Jesus, Audra, Bouffant Boy is making you soft. Audra: Better than the reverse. Yes, I’m aware that Adam is in charge of McCall now. So he went dumpster diving for dirt to throw? Tucker: Fix this shit. Yesterday. It can bite both of us on our saucy, well-sculpted hineys. Don’t forget that Adam wants Newman Media and can use this bullpucky as leverage. Audra: Goddamn it, Tucker. Next time read the bylaws of Genoa City. You don’t get to show up Victor, Nicholas or Phyllis without getting kicked in the dick. I don’t know which one you pantsed, but at least wear a cup to your next troll session. @@@@@@@@@ Adam: I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and since it wasn’t headed toward a catfight, I decided to come over and up the entertainment factor. Sharon: Pig. Phyllis: Sharon was just airing her concerns. Her concerns. She’s got some wild idea that karma has it in for me and doesn’t want to catch strays. Adam: I support that wholeheartedly. I feel like I’m always Nick’s karmic human shield. Phyllis: I personally feel attacked when Sharon accurately describes my behavior. Sharon: I didn’t intend to be hurtful. It’s a lovely bonus though. Adam: I believe Phyllis when she says she wants this to work. Phyllis: I do. I really do. I do. Sharon: Yeah, well, I’m a realist. I really need to see Phyllis be a positive, constructive force instead of a roaring shit tsunami across the river Styx. Adam: Speaking of fecal waves, my gut is telling me that Phyllis is on her best behavior and that sneaking one of Nick’s gas station burritos off his plate isn’t as funny as I thought. Phyllis: I’m sure we’ll all work together dandy fine. Fine and dandy. Remember working at Restless Style, Sharon? Remember? Sharon: I remember you and Nicholas trying to photocopy “a fuck” at the office and Jack artfully convincing the copier technician that an intern spilled glue on it. Phyllis: Nick must have been giving himself a hand, because I prefer sex romps in outdoor environments. Adam: Since we’re on the topic of trash, I remember when Restless Style went from fashion mag to tabloid. You guys took plenty of shots at me. Sharon: That was mostly Billy. He was evolving into his current Buttbiscuit state. I’m glad I got to fuck him when he was still appealing and before his nostrils dilated enough to expel the Rock of Gibraltar with a sneeze. Adam: I’ve got to get home before my ass explodes. Goddamn Nick. Phyllis: Nick and Sharon weren’t too excited to have me on board, I hear. Adam: I went rogue. Seriously, I gotta run before there’s a mudslide. @@@@@@@ Daniel: I want my mother to take Christine’s sweet deal. Heather: Who cares? You’re not a defense attorney. Daniel: I know when a rabid animal needs to be caged. Heather: I will advise my client to turn down any such deal. How dare the prosecutor ply Phyllis with coercion and other such legal bullshit. I object! Daniel: I don’t want Summer to go to prison. Mom’s got her brainwashed into thinking it’s them against the world. Heather: Summer’s not my client. Fuck Summer. Double and triple fuck Summer. Daniel: This escalated quickly. Heather: This is about my father, isn’t it? He dumped Christine’s azz like a pair of relaxed fit jeans. Daniel: Oh yeah? Christine spent years in a frigid marriage while your dad’s dick was buried in a denim casket. I bet my dad has been scratching her itch whenever he comes to town. You’ve been served, Counselor. @@@@@@@ Phyllis: How the fuck did you get in my room? Tucker: Your room? Is this your room? I honestly couldn’t tell the difference between this room and mine. Sometimes the vases are on the opposite side of the bed, but otherwise… Phyllis: Your appearance tells me I’m winning. Winning. I take everything as a sign of victory in order to preserve my self image as the main character in the story of humanity. Tucker: Can I ask you something? Why, when you’re sitting across the table from someone, do you lean way over the table, nearly scraping your chin on your plate while undulating and bobbing your head? I’m reminded of a cobra with vertigo. I thought about hiring a mongoose to take you out. Phyllis: Ssssssssss. Tucker: I’ve got a deal for you. You got me. You got me good. Phyllis: I did? Was it that thingy about… hmmmm… oh that statutory rape situation? Situation. It was rather convenient that no one ever stumbled across it and Adam found it in less than 24 hours after he inexplicably agreed to help me. Tucker: Well, you’re just that good. I can admit when I’ve been licked. Definitely not an invitation, by the way. Phyllis: Hah! I bet you’d rather eat glass than acknowledge my superior gamesmanship. Tucker: I just did? Look, I’m bored with the whole Phyllis thing. Here’s my offer. Every last byte of those supposedly incriminating files get obliterated. You show me absolute proof it’s done. I give you whatever you need in order to flaunt your vindictive criminality in the face of justice. Phyllis: Mr. Stache. He’s the only one who can clear me. Clear me. He knows I killed Jeremy in self defense. Self. Defense. Tucker: LOL! Wink. You’re paying the piper for perjury though. Man, my butt itches - oh, hi, Summer. It’s… something to see you. Summer: What the hell are you doing here? Huh? Huh? Tucker: Checking on your lovely mother, of course. Stay classy, Summer. Bye, Phyllis. @@@@@@@@ Tucker: Did you two crazy kids move in up there? Good for you. You have a very graceful walk of shame. Victoria: And here you sit, alone. Tucker: Sick burn, kid. My fiancee is out lying to her daughter right now about not being obsessed with Diane. Nate: Don’t you have anything better to do? We do. Running a corporation. Tucker: Yeah, I get to fuck the boss of my new company too. I guess Audra is doing a good job at your little media concern? You, uh, keeping a close eye on her? Nate: I get it. She got done with your nonsense and you’re bitter. Well, we have complete confidence in Audra Charles. Tucker: It’s no secret that Adam is eyeing Newman Media. He’s also got a media company under the Newman umbrella. Kind of redundant, right? He’d probably like to absorb Newman Media like a sponge, even though the Devourer of Souls forbids it. Victoria: Let Adam do his worst. We’ll swat him away like a fly. Which I will then eat. @@@@@@@@ Adam: What took you so long? I’ve been waiting to say that with a smirk for a loooong time. Audra: Why are you helping Phyllis? It makes no sense. Adam: Don’t you get it yet, Audra? It doesn’t have to make sense. Phyllis just needs to come out on top. Audra: She’s a hateful Tasmanian devil. Adam: Hard agree. But them’s the rules in this open air asylum. Let’s negotiate. Audra: There’s no need for this conveniently discovered nugget to backfire on any of us. I can assure you that Tucker didn’t know about the creeper and when he found out, he fired the PR team that covered it up. Adam: You can’t prove you didn’t just try to cover up the cover up. Audra: Fuck you. I don’t have to prove a negative. Adam: No, fuck you. I’m on Team Phyllis, so I come pre-equipped with extra leverage. You know I wants the Newman Media. Audra: And? It’s not mine to give. Adam: So? You’ll just have to persuade my old man it’s a grand idea. Audra: How? Be very careful how you answer that. Adam: Borrow something from Tucker’s bag of tricks. If you’ll excuse me, I need to call the building manager about installing a new bidet. @@@@@@@@ Summer: Why was Tucker really here? Did he… make any coffee before he left? Phyllis: Oh you know. Just talking bidness. I am going to be working at his old company after all. Summer: Are you lying? I’m getting weird vibes here. Everything is too neat and easy, like Carson the EMT showing up just in time to save your bacon. Now Tucker is in your room? Phyllis: You sound like Daniel. Daniel. Summer: Mmmmooooommmmmm! Daniel keeps putting his morals like one inch from my face and saying he’s not touching me. Waaaahhh! Phyllis: He’s a troubled young man, Summer. Troubled. Summer: He doesn’t get our bond or what a noble sacrifice it’s been for me to enable your worst impulses. Phyllis: Don’t think I’m not grateful. Don’t think. I’m also high as fuck on the narcissistic supply you keep feeding me. Wheeeee! Summer: He told me about Christine’s deal. You didn’t tell me. Why not? You’re not considering it, are you? Phyllis: Of course I am. I’d do anything for you. I’d do anything for love, but i won’t do that. No, I won’t do that. Summer: You’ll keep fighting right? Phyllis: Christine is the bug and I’m the windshield. Ha ha. It’s funny to mock the victim of my homicidal driving with car jokes. Summer: I don’t neeed Daniel to protect me. Phyllis: This makes me so sad. Summer: What? That you’ve convinced me to throw myself on a grenade for you when you’re openly dodging doing the same for me? Phyllis: Hell, no. It just sucks that you and Daniel are at odds again because of me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Sorry, my record got stuck. Anyway, I can see why Victor makes his kids fight. Talk about exhilarating! @@@@@@@ Sharon: Have you guys been standing there like you need to tell me something all day? Tessa: Yep! Mariah: We literally have nothing else to do. We’re lucky we get to do this. Sharon: So what’s the big news? Tessa: We found the most amazing babysitter! Just amazing. We made sure that it wasn’t three goats in a trench coat too. We won’t get burned like Newman’s security team. Sharon: That’s good. Victor has also been fooled by a giraffe in a peacoat, a seal in a windbreaker and a tortoise in a aviator’s jacket. Mariah: Huh. Well, this leads us to even better news. I’m leaving Jabot to come work with you. Sharon: Yahoo! It’ll be so much fun working together. And with Phyllis. Mariah: Phyllis. Yay. Are you okay with Adam hiring her? Sharon: No, but the spell binding me to Crimson Lights has been broken, so I can tolerate almost anyone while in the outside world. Can you start right away? I have been working way too much lately. Nick’s writing proposals in emojis, Adam is writing Sally’s name all over his notebook like a dumbass teenager. His Samsung notebook. Tessa: Leaving no time to dance in Chance’s pants. Sharon: When I took off his jeans for the first time, he was going commando. I wasn’t ready. I experienced five minutes of psychosomatic blindness. Mere mortals were not meant to gaze at monuments to vitality crafted by angels. Mariah:… Tessa:… @@@@@@@ Daniel: Yo, Tucker. I’ve seen you hanging around my mother. Stay away, bro. Tucker: Aren’t you cute? Leans over, ruffles Daniel’s hair. @@@@@@@@@ Heather: I’m here to impugn your integrity, shame, excoriate and belittle you as a person, lawyer and former stepmother. Christine: I’m listening. Heather: How dare you approach my client and use her daughter against her! Christine: I should have done it in a legal setting, certainly. Stayed in my lane, so to speak. Heather: Is this legal dumpster fire burning because Phyllis ran over you and my father? Get over it! Phyllis is cool now. Christine: Lol, what? She admitted to killing a man. Even if it’s self defense, she still disrespected his body by throwing it in a lake. She blew up a goddamn ambulance! That’s an offense against the taxpayers. Heather: Jeremy Stark coerced her, like you’re trying to coerce her. Coerce coerce coerce. It’s my favorite new word. Christine: Congratulations on joining the Phyllis is a Victim cult. Heather: I had already stipulated that I’d be willing to have my client plea to velour related misdemeanors and pay restitution in the amount of $18.95 to the Stark estate for the slashed tuxedo jacket. Don’t you want to look tough on fabric crimes, you stupid cow? Christine: You owe me an apology. You’ve been a weapons grade, platinum plated fuckwit who has done nothing but slag me because you’re stuck with a flaming bag of canine rump rockets in the form of an indefensible client. Heather: Coercion! Bullying! Prejudicial! Misconduct! Objection! Christine: Are you for real right now? You’re gaslighting me and anyone who might be listening. Heather: I’m going to the judge and getting you thrown off the case! You’re in the banana republic of Genoa City now, bitch! Christine: The jokes on you. I convinced Lucy to upholster your entire home in denim. Good luck finding your father, asshole.

I just love it when Daniel reads Phyllis for filth. The look on his face when Taz wasn’t willing to take the deal was perfect. Now if he could just realize that idiot Summer needs to face her consequences too, as she was definitely an adult who chose to do the wrong thing. Daniel, buddy, losing her marriage isn’t some credit that can be applied to potential criminal liability. Summer and her mother both need to take their medicine. They’re not victims. Victor wears a cloak of plot invincibility, allowing him to facilitate the sexual assaults of Phyllis, Jack and Billy and still be an inexplicably respected member of society. Everyone already calls Tucker a snake, which we’re meant to accept as gospel because why show when you can (repeatedly) tell. Victor and Phyllis are both pieces of shit who always win because hack writer doesn’t realize how fucking boring that is. Dirtying up other characters doesn’t make the pre-ordained winners any less awful, but JG keeps stepping on that rake. If I was Sharon, I would have slapped Adam silly for implying Nick was her true love. No woman wants to hear that bullshit. He was so ridiculously transparent and transparently ridiculous. Then we have Sharon trying to sell Nick’s and Sally’s gross relationship and rubbing it in to Adam. Give it a rest, show. So Ashley’s vengeance is more important to her than genuinely making things right with her daughter. And it looks like she’s already preparing to shift all the blame onto Buttbiscuit. She and Phyllis are true soul sisters.