 Desario Desire |
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Last night I dreamt that I was the single mother of an infant daughter with thick dark hair. I was trying to breastfeed, but after feeding her for thirty minutes from one breast, there was no milk in the other breast. She had on a striped hat. Shelley and I went to Target to shop for her, but we couldn't find any of those little packets of onesies. My mother kept telling me I wasn't holding her head properly. It was very weird. It looks like I'll definitely be going to Europe for two weeks this summer to meet up with my sister on the tail end of her great adventure. I'm not sure what I'm doing or where I'm going, but I'm excited all the same. As I've told a few people, I'm not anti-hostel, but I am anti-germ, anti-mold, and anti-stained pillowcases. At this point, after much fickle planning spazosity with my sister, I'll either be spending a few days solo in Southwest Ireland, Paris, or Amsterdam before ending up in London. I really have no idea. I've decided to surrender thinking about it for today, because it started to give me a large headache. I don't want to rush through Ireland, which I'm falling in love with more and more as I do my research, and I'm starting to think it merits a trip of its own. (I know Melissa would agree.) I don't know. Yesterday I returned home to a backyard minus a few more azaleas that have been displaced by Lab the Destroyer and a bedroom floor full of cat vomit. I've never seen such vomit; it actually resembled pea soup, which is such a vomit cliché. I deduced that all of the plant nibbling I'd witnessed the night before had come back to haunt all of us. My mom made her homemade veggie pizza last night, and my sister and I shoved it into our mouths while sitting around going over her options. The complexities of the factors going into her law school decision are staggering, and last night we focused on the differences between different schools' loan repayment programs, which seem to be substantial. My dad has told her not to mindfuck herself, which is good advice, but it's hard not to when you're facing such a huge, life-altering decision. When she said that people who obsess over the Yale/Harvard game make her puke and she just wants to find someone to watch SEC football with her, I immediately thought of the Gilmore Girls tailgating episode. I am sure Richard and Emily would not appreciate her disdain. After last night's crazy lactating dream and the previous night's Alias-inspired dreams of spying and asskicking and a shirtless Michael Vartan, I've found myself yawning the day away today. I don't know what has caused these restless nights, but I could definitely face-plant into my keyboard right about now and be fine with that. I will persevere to stay awake for American Idol, but I can't promise anything beyond that. Well, I've finished Freaks and Geeks, which Stacey has just informed me that she is FINALLY watching. I'm a little sad about it. I've started watching the commentaries here and there. It's hilarious to think of Mike White as a writer for this show. Overall, it's all just butt-hilarious. And awkward and heartbreaking and brilliant on every level. I don't know why I can't watch these old shows without becoming fixated on one of the male characters (Ben Covington to name one), but I guess I can't. Daniel Desario, man. Daniel Desario. His shirts are always dirty, and he has a weird mouth, and he's skinny and greasy and rude, but I LOVE HIM. There is not one thing about him that I do not love. I even love him and Kim Kelly as a couple. I mean, when they get in that fight and he finds her at the Weirs' and repeats to her that there's no one else while she SLAPS the SHIT out of him? I love him for that. And I totally forgive him, even though clearly he was letting that other girl suck on his finger. And Jason Segel is so amazing and uber-dorky as Nick, a freak who is so obviously more of a geek, that I can't stand it. And really? They're all so good. I really could turn around and watch the entire season again, which I'll probably do when I'm done with the commentaries. I even love the parents and Mr. Rosso. Mrs. Weir is married to Dylan Baker, the actor who scarred me for life as the pedophile in Happiness. I am so sure. I love Bill Haverchuck so much that I want to eat him. I even love Millie. I love that Dr. Toni Pavone plays Neil's mom. Anyway, if you've ever believed anything I've said about television, believe this. You should get yourself a copy of this box set in your hot little hands.
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© Copyright 2004 elb |
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