There is nothing quite like finishing the weekend off right with HBO. I don't know about you, but Sunday nights represent the cream of the crop in terms of cable comedy.
The slot used to belong to, what I liked to call, Soprantourage, or, what my friend Tim like to call, Entouranos. But with Tony's send off, a new, hilarious show rose to take its place and it was called Flight of the Conchords. Thus, Sunday nights were transformed into, what I like to call, Flight of the Conchourage, or, as my roommate Natalie suggested, Flentourage of the Conchords, or, as I later thought about it some more, Entouright of the Conchords, or, as I just desperately thought of now, Flight of the Entochords.
Regardless, Vince, E, Turtle, Drama and Ari provide a 24 minute jam session of amazingness that constantly makes me ask the obvious question of why is the show only 24 minutes. Then, Bret and Jemaine, or, as they say, Brit and Jemayyyne, as well as Murray, and who can forget Mel, bring me 24 more minutes of sheer laughter.
Oh, what a night.
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