Liz, the chick who claims she had a 3-hour orgasm, Eric, the boyfriend who is probably claiming that his magical dick gave her the 3-hour orgasm and the actors who recreated her orgasm trauma (I know, if “orgasm trauma” isn’t the official definition of oxymoron then nothing is) with an emotional performance that will be studied by master class students at Juilliard for decades to come.
TLC squirted out its latest warm, wet ball of fuckery on Saturday night when Sex Sent Me to the ER premiered. That shit is like Untold Stories of the ER, but with 1000% more stories about 3-hour orgasms, torn up coochies and dudes who get thrown out of a window by a hooker for trying to pay with a check (all that was in the first episode). On the first episode, Liz and Eric bravely tell the tale of how she couldn’t stop orgasming after they boned. Now, if you had the pussy seizures for three hours, you’d probably lay back, fire up the PornHub and enjoy the ride, or you’d run to every place of worship and thank every deity for giving you the gift of a non-stop O. But Liz wasn’t into that shit and she downed the sweet nectar, thinking it would kill the coochie convulsions, but that didn’t work. It’s a shame that somebody didn’t tell her to watch a Chris Brown video, because that would’ve dried her pussy up right away and immediately expelled the orgasm that possessed her body.
So Liz and Eric took their asses off to the ER where the nurses immediately thought she was in labor. The clip they should show at the Emmys when this episode is nominated for EVERYTHING is the part where the doctor goes, “Can you tell me the level of pain you’re experiencing from zero to ten,” and she goes, “zero.” The lady in the green jacket in the waiting room who makes an “I’ll have what she’s having face” should also get an honorary Emmy.
The doctors give Liz an antihistamine, which controls the orgasm, but she continues to have 12 random orgasms a day. Liz eventually finds out that a misdiagnosed anti-depressant prescription is the reason why she can’t stop orgasming.
And yes, that’s everyone’s cue to call up their free clinic psychologist and demand that they be switched to the orgasm-making anti-depressant a-fucking immediately!