Picture it: Sunday night. 9:02 PM. An hour earlier, my flight landed at JFK following 8 straight days of intense traveling, walking, touring and partying. I am a shadow of my own self. All I want is to turn on my TV, my sweet, very missed friend, collapse, and soak in the hours of missed programming. It was my very own digital “Calgon Take Me Away” moment.
It was then I powered up the old television, and happened upon the exact following moment. Don’t tell me there isn’t a vengeful God out there after watching this:
For seriously, the first American accented words I heard on our soil was Trump saying “Sinbad, you’re fired.” WTFingF? SINBAD. FIRED. This was the moment I had been dreading all season, and it happened on the second episode?
Who are we going to count on to always have their bluetooth headset in, waiting for that fateful call from Quentin Tarantino asking Sinbad if he had any interest in starring in his upcoming project? (A call that we pray will one day come.) Who will be the solid comic relief bet on the men’s team? Who will Bret Michaels have to face off in the finale? (Yes, still holding out hope.)
Celebrity Apprentice, I can’t express how disappointed I am in you. Goodbye, Sinbad. Farewell my brother.
