2003-12-12

Weight: 174

Eatings: Creme Brulee (bakery next door, discount, can't stop self. Besides it was for breakfast. I am doing my metabolism a favor by giving it fattening, sugary junk in the AM), some crackers, McChicken sandwich and McValue fries.

Doings: Got another form letter rejection from Avon Romance. Three strikes and I'm out. No more queries being sent to Avon from me now. Going for Red Dress Ink now. Hope I'm not too smutty for them.

Joan of Arcadia is the best teen show in the history of the world! I'm serious. I mean, if it was when I was a teen, I might have even picked it over My So-Called Life (otherwise known as the only teen show I ever considered watchable). I should hate me for getting sucked into a drama show (when it's not X-Files... RIP, oh show I once loved). But I can't help it. I actually like the thing. And it's able to be about God and avoid being corny a la Touched by an Angel or Highway to Heaven. It even has a Quantum Leap-esque feel. Did you see tonight's? I mean, seriously. Did you?

Cause that? Rocked. There was that whole befriend the rotund, creepy, bully guy thing. Which I lo-oved! Then God (or Old-Lady-With-Cupcakes-God) finally gives Joan an actual reason for the torture. She/He/It tells Joan all the people that would have died if she hadn't been around to calm the raging bully. One thing that bothers me about God, though. God is not having the best effect on her- at least outwardly. I can see how doing what God wants against all odds could help her grow as a person. Putting up with the repercussions could possibly mature her. But, God? Come on. Cut the girl some slack. Her family thinks she's not only rebellious but practically psychotic. Her friends think she's some kind of manipulative sadist. The one guy she likes thinks she's bent on ruining his life. I mean, seriously, God. Let up.

To top it off, they put one of those "A baby changes everything" commercials on after this episode. I, of course, wept. I am dehydrated now. I must be ovulating. It's always my weepy time of the month. Who am I kidding, though? I've watched Somwhere in Time at many different times of the month. And all that liquid pouring out of my eyes couldn't always be blamed on an egg descending down my tube. Nope. I guess I'm just a weeper by nature.

Besides that, I have a little confession. I kind of love Miss Match. Actually, Little Miss Silverstone grates on my nerves. I like her when she seems grown up, but the spoiled brat a la Clueless makes an appearance sometimes and then I feel the need to strangle her with her Gucci purse straps. It's not really Miss Match I kind of love. It's Mmmmmmmichael, the hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot architect. He does things to my adolescent body I have yet to understand.

There it is. It's damning, but I watch, not one, but two Friday Night drama shows. I'm in my twenties. By all rights, I should be tying one on and exchanging tongues with a stranger. But I'm not. Why? Because I'm really, really boring. Besides, I can't get my VCR's timer function to work.

-----In my defense: The timer problem is really not because I'm stupid. Okay? I have a universal remote which refuses to bring up the menu functions on the thing. Because I know my way around a timer. So don't you dare doubt me.