Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Post-Valentine's Rant

I actually stared at my birth control pills for two minutes thinking, it says Wednesday. It can’t be Wednesday. It’s only Tuesday. No it isn’t. Yes it is. Wait - what did I do Monday? Oh yeah, sat around watching Olympics. Riiiight - yesterday was ‘get off your ass Tuesday’. That’s why it smells a better around here. So it would follow that today must be Wednesday.

Thank god for birth control or I’d have no clue. And yet, doubt lingers – maybe I’m in this kind of dream where I’m being asked to swallow (ha!) questionable reality? Unemployment is like being on a very mild (and utterly pointless) hallucinogen.

Trev and I celebrated Valentines yesterday with a ½ lb of mixed olives (for me), a massive Reeses Peanut Butter heart (for him) and a bottle of fizzy water (shared). Oh, and sushi, which was also for me (Trev settles for ‘chicken don’).

We have trouble with Valentine’s day. We don't need the day - we're good in the fun and romance department. But every year the blasted day rolls around and we panic. Should we do something, go for dinner? Should there be roses? Should I do something for him? What the hell?!? It’s a forced day, drowned in several tons of food that’s bad for us. I think we’re going to have to come up with our own tradition around it. Something that takes the piss out of Valentine’s (a saying, not a technique).

Which brings me to ‘24’ (which is what we rented as part of our Valentine’s evening). We’re still catching up on Season 4 and I gotta say, it is a shit season so far. I mean, “Amnesty Global” as a threat to national safety? I'm tired of those themes, ‘vague middle eastern men threatening malls filled with American children’ and ‘the President is in DANGER’ and ‘oh my God, there’s a LEAK at CTU’. Oh gee, look, they’re calling out Richards and his syringes again. Jack Bauer, that lovable rogue, gets over a drug addiction in 24 hours – no, more like 4 hours – and never, ever misses a shot. And he never says the wrong thing to women or dying men because he's a HERO. Got a fuzzy shot of a vehicle half a mile away? Call in Awkwardly-Lovable-but-Super-Duper-Amazing Chloe - all she needs are 3 keys and 4 seconds to pull off a license plate, clear-as-day. 2 seconds later, the Database-of-Everything-in-the-World will tell you exactly what you need to know about who's driving that car. And what the hell is “chatter”? If these chatterers know so damn much, why not go after them?

It was a good show. I don’t understand why it’s become this caricature. Maybe that just happens to good shows after three seasons. Like how my third marshmallow-filled valentine chocolate wasn’t nearly as good as the first. I still ate it. For breakfast.

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