Home > Uncategorized > This is the part where Ryan and Marissa are almost together, and Marissa dies in a car crash.

This is the part where Ryan and Marissa are almost together, and Marissa dies in a car crash.

I don’t watch that…

Okay. So, there was this time. When I worked at this television station. And I was unhappy. And.

OKAY. So I’ve watched the freaking O.C. What are you going to do about it, huh? What? That’s right. Nothing. Because you are the internet.

And you know what???? The plot lines in the Red Sox right now are even worse.

You’ve got the stereotypical dying man. I love you, Tim Wakefield. All soap operas have one. One that keeps coming back from the dead again and again and again. And then someone comes along to ruin him. A man with a hidden agenda. A man no one would suspect. A man to stab his brother in the BACK.

I knew it was DANIEL BARD all along!

And then there’s the pretty girl. You know the one. The one who keeps giving the jerk a chance and gets burned again and again. Episode arcs revolve around it. It’s why people vomit when they watch these shows. Because of YOU, pretty girl, and your angst. He’s just going to leave you again. And again. And again. And again.

Oh look. Here she is, giving  him another chance. The only common denominator in your failed relationships is YOU, pretty girl. Curt Young, YOU are the pretty girl.

And Crawford and Gonz. You are the side characters that SEEM important, but when watch reruns, we realize you weren’t even on the show last year and everyone knows the first two seasons were the best.

The third season’s just to get syndication.

And YOU, Kevin Youkilis. The ruggedly handsome, yet uncharacteristically clever for your side of the tracks, leather jacket toting, smoltry gaze staring love of my life.

And the surprise death. The one that really happens because of an actor’s drug addiction of a masochistic producer’s idea of a ratings boost. The one that doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense, save in a shocker capacity. Sometimes it’s a massacre. Like in Grey’s Anatomy. OR IN CANADA. DAMN YOU, TORONTO.

Seriously. Yesterday was like the fricking O.C. The fricking O.C. with a side of Dawson’s Creek. And I mean that on so many levels. Remember that time that Joey admitted her feelings to Pacy only to get burned AGAIN? Remember that?

Um. Me neither.

And I’m not just talking about baseball.

When did my life get 16-year-old angsty?

And what do you do when he comes back to life? And you’ve already accepted that he’s dead?

And does everyone have an evil twin? Because I can’t possibly be responsible for some of the actions attributed to me over the past several hours.

STUPID BASEBALL AND ITS INTROSPECTIVE METAPHORS.

~L

Seriously.

My show? Paula Cole wouldn’t be the theme song. Neither would that O.C. California song.

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Categories: Uncategorized
  1. cybellekate
    September 8, 2011 at 12:12 pm

    I had coffee and a brownie for breakfast and read some breathtakingly insightful comments on Blogs (“Bard will never be the same, Wake will never win 200 and the Rays will overtake the Sox”) that made me feel defiantly ok. Everything will be OK. Bard. Wake. The Sox. Everything. Last night was a parallel universe, Twilight Zone, MISTAKE. We will recover.
    I hope Tim is having coffee and a brownie for breakfast….

  2. September 9, 2011 at 7:34 am

    Whipping Post is my very favorite Allman Brothers song of all time! And it’s a perfect description of that game on Wednesday night. Good call. And someone needs to wake up our Sox. It’s too early to coast to the wild card.

  1. September 8, 2011 at 6:58 pm

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