like I needed another reason to love Gomez

They linked to this on their blog.

no really, what are the odds?

So I finally sold my old 1994 Ford Escort that I have driven exactly 6 times in the last 12 months. I sold it Friday. That would be three days before the super surprising Toronto Transit Commission wildcat rrowr strike gave the city a shot to the kidneys yesterday. I took it as a sign to work from home. The universe is not always subtle.

oh my gods

I have a picture of him.. Still trying to decide if I should put it up in my makeshift podstation at the new office. Perhaps not, as all that drooling and staring at the wall might be off-putting.

so sometimes I cry like a little girl

I downloaded the Grey's Anatomy two part finale so I could watch it again. There are two reasons for this.

During the crazy crazy scene where they are cutting into the totally hotandawesome dad from Supernatural at the same time they are cutting into Isaiah Washington they are playing the title track from the new Gomez album How we Operate. The song is fantastic as most Gomez songs are and even though I actually bought the CD (yes from a store, I know it would be cheaper from iTunes, and even cheaper if I were to steal it, but when I really like music I like to actually go to a store and buy the CD because sadly that is the only language the fools at the record labels understand. That explains why in the past two years I still buy CDs, although all those CDs are by acts that appeared in Dave Chappelle's Block Party and Gomez - btw Gomez is coming to T-dot this summer - get your tix early! And the Roots are coming too. My cup, she runneth over - speaking of I need a couple new bras) and I downloaded the song and put it on repeat on my mini and I have listened to it a million times this week (or 27, but whatever) at some point my mind decided that the song actually was magic, and if I were to just watch the show again they wouldn't kill Denny Duquette.

I can't remember the other reason I watched it again because I am too busy crying because they did kill Denny Duquette - and then to kick me while I was curled in a ball rocking back and forth spinning plates they fraked up Isaiah's hand. People do you NOT understand how the medical drama is supposed to work? You take with one hand and give with the other. You do not kill with one hand and then frak the other hand up for kicks. Seriously. Seriously.

Go buy Gomez. Any album will do. I'm busy weeping. Leave me.

Weevil - don't drop the soap

This was a big Tuesday for me. I haven't been this excited since Buffy and Angel were in first run. Today I wore pink and went to my ladies only gym after work then came home and drank a long island whilst watching the girliest night of television I have had the pleasure of enjoying in a long while. I feel adrift. Both of my Tuesday shows focus on girls - be they Gilmore or Mars, and they were fabulous. I have so many questions about what could happen next year, but both shows are not really on any network for another week. Sometime after the 18th I will find out the fate of my 2006 2007 television watching season. Will I get to hear Lorelai Gilmore say 'frakking Celine Dion' again? Will Veronica track down her fugitive ex-boyfriend and so he can get some azithromycin for the chlymidia she may have inadvertently transmitted to him? I have no assurance that these questions will ever be answered because I keep falling in love with shows on fringe networks like WB or UPN or Fox.

Maybe I should start reading again.

they don't call it gym-nice-tics

I like bad (insert rock and roll air quotes here) movies. I like movies that people are ashamed to admit they go and see. I will go see Antonio Banderas profit shamelessly off the magic that was Mad Hot Ballroom in Take the Lead. I will go see...a bunch of people I've never heard of in Stick It. I draw the line at The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift - not because I think I'm better than that, but because in some cases I have to be loyal to the original, and this movie is diverging from the original vision behind the Fast and Furious franchise - to be Point Break with cars. I don't see an upstart cop trying to prove himself anywhere in the IMDB plot summary for Tokyo Drift. I watched the original Fast and the Furious in the theatre. I watch Point Break every time I see it airing on Spike or TBS. And you, Tokyo Drift are neither Fast nor Furious.

The good guys - Part 4 - It places the lotion in the basket

Only one man has ever managed to say "it rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again" and sound cute. T. R. Knight of Grey's Anatomy. His character George is cuter than a basket full of whiskers on kittens. He isn't just in love with the girl that will never love him back, he admits out loud that he remembers the strappy sandals she was wearing the first time they met. He is good with babies. And old people. And young people. And nurses. Gorgeous women feel the need to fall into his bed after a bad day -- not for sex mind you, but to just snuggle up next to his cuteness and fall asleep. Because unlike every guy you know from university who said, "no it's ok, you can stay over, nothing has to happen, we can share the bed, I'm too tired to try anything *wink*" and next thing you know you are waking up with an erection shaped bruise humping your hip, hands hunting high and low and you gotta be...

Wait, this is my PG rated blog.

As I was saying you cuddle up with him after a bad day because George would never try anything like that.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, this man does not exist. This man could never exist. All laws of god and man and morning wood say that if anything he has to wake up humping the leg of a Katherine Heigl or Ellen Pompeo if they crawl into bed with him. We know he has a penis, he got syphilis on it from a nurse (that he actually apologized to because he was mean and broke up with her after he started itching). And any penis should rub against this if it is sleeping with him. Seriously. Seriously.

He was asking for it officer

I don't stalk people anymore. Much. Hardly ever. But I need to warn you Stroumboulopoulos if you insist on sitting there in your big belt buckle and your Adidas and point at the camera and say the word 'stock' (in reference to a piece about what one may stock in their bomb shelter) while I am sitting in front of the television and feeling quite proud that I decided not to stalk you, well, that is just you asking for it.

Forgiveness Revisited

To the little old lady who nearly ran me over yesterday:

I was planning to forgive you for almost running me over yesterday, because I thought you were leaving a matinee of Lord of the Rings - The Musical. I saw Lord of the Rings - The Musical. It was long. Real long. And some bits were a little strange. I do not wish to go further into my feelings on the production as I do not have any sort of training in musical theatre, I don't see live musicals very often, and I respect the effort it must take to mount a production of that size. I can say that it was long. Real long. And I thought when you nearly clipped me on John St. yesterday that you and your gang of blue-hairs were laying down rubber like that because you needed to get home for the next round of meds, not having anticipated the duration of the production.

Then I checked online. There aren't any matinees on Saturday, just Sunday. So today's application of my mythical time machine involves me returning to yesterday and giving you a gesture a little stronger than a smirk.

The good guys - Part 3 - Bad case of loving you

Dr. John Carter entered the ER on...ER some ka-jillion years ago and is still as cute as a freakin' button factory. Your Clooneys and Margulies' may come and go, but you remain, somehow retaining the sweetness that made us fall in love with you in the first place. We were mad for you when the veterans were mean to you. We were sad for you when they gave you the hotness of Thandie Newton, and used her to make you lose a marriage and a baby. We completely and totally pledged our allegiance to you when they made you read the goodbye letter from Mark Greene.

You are too cute to live. You must be removed from the planet earth. No super hot, super rich, super nice, super sweet guy like you exists, and even if he did he would not toil away in an ER for an eon. He would leave, and find a nice girl on The Bachelor or something. You are the worst character ever conceived for the television, if only because you are too perfect.

The good guys Part 2 - Hail to the Chief

Your last girlfriend really did a number on you. You knew you shouldn't have dipped your pen in the company ink. At first the only thing you had to hide from your colleagues was the fact that you were tappin' that - then you had to hide evidence that she may have possibly tried to destroy the water supply need to sustain the remains of your entire civilization. You didn't have to hide that for long though, she revealed her duplicity by pumping a couple of rounds into the boss in front of many witnesses. After she was killed in a very Jack-Rubyesque fashion you thought you had finally managed to wash that girl right out of your hair.

You were wrong. She came back, looking just as cute as ever, apparently in love with another man, and pregnant with his child. But it's not really her, it's just her evil space twin - who has memories of loving you.

So what do you do when you hear that the evil twin of your evil dead ex-girl is about to be sexually violated during a "routine interrogation"? Do you toast her humiliation with your homemade moonshine? Line up to take a turn? No sir, because you are a good guy, so you march yourself right down to that holding cell and kill that man with your bare hands even though you know you might be tried and put to death for treason.

Ladies, this man does not exist in real life. If you watch Battlestar Galactica and you have a crush on Chief Petty Officer Tyrol, remember this is Science Fiction. Emphasis on the fiction. In real life if you met a man who would let you put him through all of this and still kill for you, odds are he wouldn't look like this.

The good guys - Part 1

I am starting a series about fantasy men from television. I'm not talking about a Remington Steele, or a Dr. Doug Ross. I'm talking about the super sweet, super nice, super smart, super thoughtful, secretly-in-love-with-the-best-girl-friend guy from tv. He's the real fantasy man. The hot guys that will bag you, shag you and never look back are a dime a dozen, but that cute puppy dog that loves you from afar and is waiting for you to notice him doesn't really exist in real life. The men on TV are generally hotter than your average man. So that means that a real world version of Jim from The Office, or George from Grey's Anatomy will likely look more like this and less like this.

TV lies. It's like a man that way.

So look for my next post, I will be starting with my favourite puppy dog / knuckle dragging grease monkey, the Chief from Battlestar Galactica. He sweats! He emotes! He grieves his evil toaster ex-girlfriend!