Yet another holiday, yet another night spent watching ten-year old "Sex and the City" episodes.
"This is how it really is, Brandon. See, he wants to get married and have kids."
My mother provides consistent commentary so I know what's going on. She provides consistent commentary when she's alone.
"What's wrong with a guy like that?"
This episode is about single people and married people and how they're different.
"He-heh."
Carrie wrote a column, or is writing...
"Oh, that's funny."
Anyways, she's working on a piece about single vs. married and how it's like the Cold War. I've eaten my four-thousandth calorie of the day. I'm not too worried about the weight gain. I'm the heaviest I've ever been. I also have more facial hair than ever, so I'm just getting my Orson Welles' look down. I'd say I wear it well.
"Want a cupcake now? Yo-oh? Want the top of a cupcake?"
Once the holidays are over I'll shed a few pounds.
"There's only what? Forty-five minutes to eat? Oh no, it's only a half-hour."
I'll walk around more, eat less, stop eating after ten at night.
"Only on T.V."
I'll visit the gym near my house. It's free the first two weeks of the year.
"Oh, that's on T.V.?"
Last night I was thinking about drinking to pass out.
"I never see that Marisa Tomei that much."
Oh, this episode also has a B-story. The lawyer pretends to be gay.
"That's right."
The lawyer is not gay on the show. She is gay in real life. This show is written by a gay man. At least the movie was written by a gay man.
"How disgusting. She just kissed her. I don't want to kiss no girl."
The old one is going to sleep with the doorman. I'm glad I'm a doorman in a bar and not an apartment.
"Look at her figure."
The old one seduced the guy on the street. Good for her.
"Ehh! Isn't that funny?"
I haven't said anything since I began this little piece. I can barely move. I tend to eat all the broccoli casserole I can in the months of November and December.
"She always loved Mr. Big. Always."
That dude is also on "Law and Order." He rakes in syndication money hand over foot.
"Especially him, he's established."
Now the desperate guy that was dating Carrie is dating the not whore and not lawyer. Did I forget to mention the desperate guy? Whatever. They're using Aretha Franklin's "Respect" to show the glory of being a single lady in the city.
"How come that is not boiling? I haven't heard the kettle yet. I don't want that Britney Spears shit. I'm going look at the..."
How long are these shows?
"What is that? We gotta go see that. That's a nice girl movie. I gotta go see that. Would you and Mike wanna go see that? No. I'm stuffed to the hill. What does that clock say? Eleven thirty nine? Twenty minutes. I'm so full. I won't be hungry for that oatmeal in the morning. I need that oatmeal. It regulates my blood sugar. Oh, sixty off. After tomorrow it'll be seventy."
The show is over.
"Oh. I'm so full."
I should abandon the television for a few weeks. The last two days have taught me that nothing is worth watching.
"We have to watch Nancy Grace at twelve. I'll think she'll like being in jail. Did you hear about the Santa shooting up people? It was the in-laws. Funny as hell."
The show is on again.
"See, it was meant to be."
It's a "Mr. Big" episode. Looks to be the first one.
The old one works in P.R.? I guess that makes sense.
This show makes New York City ugly. Maybe it's the time and not the place. It's so old they're not using cell phones.
"Now you know she's in love with him, right? It's terrible. It's so terrible."
Stephen Dorff is in this one. I actually like one of his films.
"Now if you know he's twenty he's too young."
Hey, mom! I'm twenty! I could totally fuck that old one! Even with my Orson Welles stature. Especially because my Orson Welles stature!
"T.G.I.F.! Now he's got to be twenty years old! Because they're twenty years old."
I drank enough to get aide in sleep but not enough to work effectively.
"There he is, Mr. Big."
Now the show is talking about men in their forties.
"What the fuck? What did he go in there for? Five minutes. I watch this every night, Brandon."
I never had much fun in the bars in New York. Probably because I wasn't smoking indoors.
"No, they ain't."
I'm pretty sure The Dandy Warhols is the music in the bar of the young people. I'm pretty sure they're in the basement of the Bowery Ballroom.
"Pony necked beers?!?"
Tongue ring.
"That's disgusting. Ain't that funny. Aren't you going to have some of that Fannie May Santa? Don't you want to taste it. Don't you want to open it so I can taste some."
I'll open the chocolate.
I opened the chocolate.
I ate the head of Santa Claus.
No comments:
Post a Comment