Monday, January 14, 2013

Rainy Days and Mondays and Why I Still Haven't Watched Downton Abbey

I am considering getting in the car and driving south until I find sunshine. It's either that or admit that I am going to wear pajamas all week and never get out of bed again. I am going to become like Grandpa Joe and just lie around like a lazy bastard until someone offers me something good like a Golden Ticket and some chocolate.

The more I hear about Downton Abbey, the more I don't want to watch it. It's the contrarian in me. I'm certain it's how people must feel when they don't watch Breaking Bad and they hear us converts going on and on about how it's the greatest show on television. (Because it's the greatest show on television.)

I am starting to feel the same way about Homeland.

Also, I have a Claire Danes problem. I have sort of disliked her ever since Billy Crudup left his 8-months-pregnant girlfriend for her.

I miss feeling motivated. A friend and I met for lunch yesterday and we talked about the two major things we've both been feeling the past year:

What's the point?


Is this all there is? 

Then I had this realization that what I'm really wondering is this:

Is this all I am? 

I think I ran out of goals and I can't figure out what my new ones should be. When I was young I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to work at a newspaper and a magazine. I wanted to write a book. Check, check, check. 

I'm not sure what I expected to come from meeting those goals, but it sure wasn't this endless slog through rejection, lethargy, and existential whining.

This is why midlife crises happen. 

This is why people get in the car and drive south until they find something bright and hopeful. 

Last night when Jennifer Garner presented some award right after her husband won Best Director, I thought, "MUST BE NICE TO BE YOU!" 

I have a love/hate relationship with awards shows. The hate portion manifests itself in bitterness toward perfectly lovely people with lovely lives and lovely bank accounts who are dating my boyfriend. I'm looking at you Stacy Keibler, but not for long because you're just sort of boring. 

Oh, and last night when Julia Roberts came out to present Best Picture, I thought, "Are you fucking kidding me with this Julia Roberts nonsense?" 

Can we not be done with her already? 

Everyone has celebrities they hate for no reason and she is mine. If I had to pick a reason it is probably because she's so farging self-satisfied and she refers to her husband by his full name like it's charming. Nothing that woman does is charming. 

Every time they showed Mel Gibson on camera last night, it made me sad. Thanks a lot, Jodie Foster. I kept thinking about how he's ruined his life with his ranting, screaming drunkenness. It's like showing up at a party with someone who makes everybody uncomfortable. Then the energy around that person is all about his or her pathetic attempt to prove he or she is no longer a ranting, screaming drunk arsehole. And everyone else's energy is about treading softly because you know that AT ANY MOMENT things could veer seriously off-course. 

Mel Gibson was the elephant in the room. 

Anne Hathaway, on the other hand, was the "Tracy Flick" in the room. If you haven't seen Election, you should. 

Did you notice that Michael J. Fox's son Sam was introduced as a "philanthropist?" Get a real job, rich kid. That was my first thought. Then I realized he probably works for some organization his dad started to fight Parkinson's. So I feel bad for wanting to smack him. 

This (the 40-second mark) was my favorite moment from the show: 

The only thing that would have made it better is if they'd cut to Taylor Swift's face during that moment. 

I'm just going to assume she looked like this guy: 

Actually, Tommy Lee Jones, I totally get it. This is my reaction to waking up to more rain, feeling left out of the whole Downton Abbey thing, seeing the Julia Roberts' Aura of Smug Self-Satisfaction. 

Blerg, indeed. 

So, who wants to drive to Key West with me? 

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