What Goes Through My Mind Every Time I Watch ‘Mad Men’

Alright, here we are, Sunday night is Mad Men Night! Can’t wait! OK, I can kind of wait. I mean, let’s be honest, most Mad Men Nights end with me thinking “Huh? Was that the whole show? This is a joke, right?” But at least three episodes a year are amazing, so I have to watch. Maybe this week someone will push Pete Campbell out the window. Or they’ll give Roger Sterling an entire hour to make flirty phone calls. Or Sally Draper and her terrifying boyfriend Glen will go on a Bonnie and Clyde-esque crime spree. I’m not the only one who sees Glen in my nightmares, am I? Oh, it’s starting! The cartoon man is falling off the building. Please let it be Pete!…

Five minutes in and I still haven’t seen Peggy or Joan. Why is there never enough Peggy and Joan?! When do they get their own sitcom as hilariously mismatched roommates who survive on their wits, guile, and madcap adventures at the local diner/ad agency? It will be called Two Broke Girls, One of Whom Has a Tremendously Large Bosom, and it will rule the airwaves…

Wait, has Don always been an a-hole? Because now he’s just an a-hole, right? Why can’t they put that nice, sad guy who runs the TV department in charge of everything? He’s sweet. He’d support Megan on the soap opera!…

Uh oh, I think this is one of the bad episodes. One where it just kinda treads water for 45 minutes and then tomorrow everyone says, “But they were setting up all the good stuff that will happen next week!” Why is that even allowed? Doesn’t every episode have to be good? We don’t get to do that. If our boss says, “Hey, Fred, that report you put together on Tuesday kinda sucked,” we don’t get to reply “Yeah, but I was really just setting up my report for next week. That one’s gonna be killer!!”…

Oh God, look at them smoke! It’s like an AA meeting in there, but with better suits. Smoking in a hospital? Absolutely! Lighting five different cigarettes in the same conversation? Why not?! I’m pretty sure the primary appeal of Mad Men is the reckless consumption of intoxicants. It makes us feel so much better about ourselves. Look, Don’s having a scotch at 9AM! If he can do that then I can eat ice cream sandwiches for breakfast, right?…

No one has had morally depraved intercourse in a while, so I’m starting to drift. If they combined all my favorite Mad Men moments into one scene, it would be Betty Draper in her fat suit singing Zou Bisou Bisou while driving a lawnmower over some guy’s foot. And riding on the back would be Lane punching Pete Campbell in the face. Let’s get that in the season finale, eh fellahs?! Oh, they’re drinking again. Time for a cookie!…

You ever get the feeling the writers wished they never introduced this whole Dick Whitman business to begin with? Hey, look, it’s Peggy! Don’t settle on your hippy dippy boyfriend, Peggy. I’ll be yours forever…

Wait… are we in the middle of a dream sequence? I can really tell anymore. Remember when Don went to California? I think this whole thing might have been one long dream since then. When’s the last time someone said about any show, “Hey did you see that dream sequence last night? Totally awesome, right?” Never. No one’s ever said that because dream sequences are unbearable. Maybe I’m asleep and the rest of this episode is actually my own dream sequence. My head hurts…

Oh boy, Don is pitching something. Don is pitching something! And…genius! What he just said was absolute genius! I take it all back, Don! Last week’s setting up was totally worth it!

WAIT. Heinz isn’t buying it?! Damn you, Suits! You ruin everything with integrity! I’m never buying your product again! If however it happens to be on the table after I order french fries, then I will call a truce. Why won’t you appreciate Don?!…

Wait, did another woman just get kinda raped? This show has got to have the highest rape per character ratio of any program on TV. I’m pretty sure the only person who hasn’t been involved in a sexual assault is the old guy, and that’s just because he can’t keep his shoes on long enough to leave his office…

Uh oh. Here comes one of the secretaries. Am I supposed to know who they are? I feel bad every time they walk into the room, like I ought to remember their name or stories they were involved in, but they all look just the same to me. Holy crap, I’m becoming a Mad Man. Aaaaah!…

I wonder what Don will pitch next week? Isn’t he the best? Whatever it is, I’ll be watching. Sunday Night is Mad Men night! Yippee! I think!