No. Universe? Hello. It's Arthur. Please stop it. First it was "The Price Of Milk" with more than enough of Karl's nether regions bobbing about in dairy products. And then I meet Karl.
Now it's "Better Than Sex," during which I was subjected to a pair of buttocks with dimples deep enough to lose a hand in. Actors take plastic surgery much too far, I think. Those can't be real. Not that I stared at them for unnatural lengths of time, mind you, they were simply thrust at me for my viewing pleasure. I did not just say thrust. Anyway, universe, I was talking to you. Now tell me you did not just have that, that, that walking dimple pass me in the hallways.
I am not watching any movies this evening. I shall read a book. Indeed.