There is never a void in cable television. You will find that be there ruinous fire, torrential flood, cataclysmic volcano, or category-five hurricane, you will still have access to 24-hour cable programming. Most of it tends to be awful as we have all watched at least an episode of something embarrassing, demoralizing and contemptible like The Swan where they found Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon to turn 300-pound losers into cougar-ready material for Real Housewives of Orange County. Or My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiancé in which a schoolteacher pretended to marry a rude, loathsome, and slobby hippopotamus for a cash prize. Unfortunately, what I've just described is wretched and is aired at prime time, so you can only imagine what I watch when I finally have time to ignite the boob tube at 4 a.m. I flip between infomercials with Tattoo selling personal massagers, discount telephone psychics and Suzanne Sommers doing kegel exercises with what appears to be pool noodle. I flip through hundreds of channels in determination of finding something somewhat satisfying. While I hate to admit it, I always stop at the ShamWow guy.
He's got two commercials, the ShamWow and the slap chop. He's so upbeat and amusing with a musical cadence to his regaling pitch. He makes cutting up tuna fish with a pickle look as fun as being at Studio 54 with table service Patrón and your own personal DJ. He never fails to delight when he beams and announces, "You'll love my nuts," as he chop chop chops peanuts into ice cream topping. So I was shocked when I heard today that earlier this year he was arrested on a felony charge for beating up a prostitute because she had bit down on his tongue and wouldn't let go. Talk about embarrassing things you would rather not admit to in the middle of the night.
1.5 oz fresh squeezed lime
1.5 oz simple syrup
1.5 oz blue curaçao
1.5 oz vodka
Pour all the ingredients into a Sham Wow and squeeze into a martini glass