Durrrrrr...

Have you ever seen Murphy Brown, the TV Show?  Every time she comes home, having put in a hard day's woik of being a woman journalist battling alcoholism, smashing any and ALL glass ceilings with her rapist-like wit (yeah I said it, rapist.  She'd rape every male misconception of her on top of a pinball machine and THAT'S no yoke!)
...anyway, after a hard day at the office, she'd come home, put on her Aretha Franklin record and play "Natural Woman".  And when she decided to raise her own child as a single mom, much to Dan Quayle's chagrin, she sang the verse "when my soul was in the lost and found you came along to claim it."
(and I always wanted her to sing the next line of song - "..didn't know what was wrong with me until your kiss helped me name it..." Because babies don't kiss by the book. They make excellent paramours- just the whites ones, though).

Anyway, if my life were a situation comedy, I'd come home and play drake's "shot for me" song and roll around on my sofa.

Here's the funny thing about Drake music:  His name sounds like the music he makes.

Durrrrrr....Durrrrrraaaa.....Durrrraaaaaaaaake.

It's kind of slurry, kind of drunken.  Has the occasional WTF moment where he switches to auto-tune.   And then he continues to drone on an on with his stream of conscious rhapsody.  Fame can be hard.  So much money.  God.  Money really just alienates a person.  Life is so lonely when you're a TV star turned Pop Star getting into fights with Chris Brown over a person who has her own dark issues being a lifelong victim of abuse...and all that money can buy a lot of pot and other things that will lead to long, lavish recording sessions where you can just dim the lights and lay down a bunch of yammers into a studio (pronounce "stood-jo" if you're Tina Turner or Mariah Carey and you've just done a line) album that I'll rip from the library and listen to for like bunches of times because I'm so cool and I make time for crap in my life.

Durrrr.....drankkkkuh.  durrrrr.....

And as I'm rolling around on the couch, my friendly neighbor would come by for a chat, only, in my situation comedy, my neighbor is a talking abortion machine that's been decomissioned (basically a talking vacuum because on my show, I will have no friends that are Hu-man).
And every now and then, the show would get dark and the vacuum would offer to suck the life out of me, and I would almost let it, laying there helpless on the couch as it slowly rolls towards me making that vrrrrrooom noise.

I'd get David Lynch's daughter to direct it. Or should I say DurrRake it. Take a shot?  More like MONEY SHOT!!!