January 19th, 2003


sunday nights

I'm developing a rather embarrassing addiction to the vapid crack that is Charmed. And damn it, I miss Angel being on Sundays. It was the last pleasant stop on what was otherwise an express train to hell Monday morning. I could wallow like a pig in mud from the first nasal, motor-mouthed bon mot of Gilmore Girls all the way through to the cramped screen credits of The Unreal World: L.A., getting up only to crack a new can of CFDC.

Sniff. Wednesday just isn't the same.

So, is there anyone out there to whom I can say, "What the frelling fuck was Paige wearing?" and get an "Amen, sister"? It looked like someone dismembered a SwissMiss!Barbie, and tried to squeeze P. into half her blouse. Either that, or a goat swallowed the ruffle off my mother's dressing table and threw it back up on her tits.

(Er, Paige's tits. Not my mother's.)