26 September, 2007

one bloody mary for the german dude from the vatican

you know those heart palpitations that i've been suffering lately? the ones so nicely complemented by the recurring right eye twitch? brought into a sparkling mental health trifecta by my insomnia? you know what really helps with the aforementioned palpitations? or, as the case may be, makes them a hell of a lot worse? huh? well, do ya?

so: i'm hooked on dexter, showtime's series about a lovable yet conflicted serial killer (six feet under's annoyingly neurotic closeted gay undertaker, michael c. hall). we downloaded the show and got hooked. hooked. hooooooooked!!! and now it's getting dark and scary and making adrenalin pump through my blood stream and my heart pound and i don't like it but. i. cannot. stop.

somebody toss my way an idea for a well written HAPPY show that i can get hooked on and my tormented psyche will write you a lovely thank you note, perhaps even toss in a box of purdy's sweet georgia browns.

the several year long absence of a television set in my life is akin to a distinct lack of a well stocked bar in the life of an alcoholic. there is a reason. the reason can be explained by my tendency to hole up in hotel rooms and watch hours and hours of law and order when given half the chance, by my tendency towards the walleyed glances i toss in the direction of the screen that is forever broadcasting the magic of home decorating in my room at work (while i work on your teeth...what? they're not half as interesting as small space big style).

if you gave me a tv, and it had the discovery channel available, i would spend the next 47.3 hours watching gazelles and meerkats and three toed sloths frolic on the screen, and no matter what you'd say about the high quality of zoological information i was being fed, it would still be a waste of my life. and still i could not stop it.

you see, i know my personality tends towards the easily addictive (i read it once in a beautifully silk-screened zodiac greeting card from ten thousand villages) except in my case it's not drugs but television and mister monkey that are my smack, and i draw the line at one carefully selected good addiction.



jesus, i dont even know what "smack" actually is. hee! i'm so uncool it's funny.

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