At 27 years old, I would think that I've grown past teen dramas. Damn you, Megan and Marty, and Dave and Mendy. And anyone else who's fallen under their influence.
I've stumbled into the end of the first season of Felicity, and I sit here wondering why, and how, the trials and tribulations of a television college freshman girl can still apply to a 27 year-old guy. Damn you Londoners. Or ites. Whichever you prefer.
But at least I've got the next few weeks of my nights planned out.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
i have just gotten through two seasons of rescue me, it took me a goddamn week but i did it. you two nancys need to take your balls off the fucking shelf and watch this show. i'd drop it off at your place but i'm afraid one of you guys would try and blow me if i came over there.
Geeeeez, Sir Henry. It's not that kind of blog.
Thanks, Jay. I WILL take credit for the lovely addictiveness of Felicity. We'll dish about who's better for her, Noel or Ben, when we stay with you for Christmas!
Post a Comment