Caterwauling

I decided to work from home in the early hours of the morning, breaking my new tradition of being coiffed and dressed at the ass-crack of moi and being planted in my little cubby before the masses arrive. (A girl’s gotta get some peace at some point in her day.)

So I did my thing in my quiet room (with a door! Next time I’m job-hunting, I’m NOT going to go for the cube environment. No way in hell), and I was just about to leave when I yawned. It was a Technicolor yawn, unfortunately, as the Skittles I’d nommed on for breakfast decided they didn’t want to be digested after all. I can has sick day? Oh noes, too short-staffed! *barf*

Anyway, I was slightly riveted by “Grey’s Anatomy” last night. I wish I could just identify with one character instead of all of them. Maybe I’d feel less damn depressed at 10 p.m. Eastern on Thursday nights when the show goes off and I switch to Comedy Central for the duration of the evening.

I think, if I had to pick, I’d have been Cristina this week. (It’s a lovely name, so why not?) After the fruits of her labor have yielded a prestigious award for her lackluster ex, and the new boss doesn’t have the time of day for her, no wonder she’s disengaged. She passed up the opportunity to be part of a historic surgery on the founder of some awesome technique they all use, instead choosing to stick paper clips on a Dixie cup.

And what’s sad is I was thinking, hey that Dixie-cup-stabbing kind of looks fun!

I think I’ve fallen into a patch of quicksand insofar as why I was put on this planet. I’m developing mad (and marketable) skillz and I’m really growing on a personal level, too. But while I know the point of existence is to become who we’re meant to be, well, who exactly is that person? I’m sure she’s going to be downright divine, but what’s wrong with me as-is? And why do I have to be a different person to get where I’m going?

The other storyline that caught my eye last night was the gal with the brain tumor who spun a Cinderella-like story of her man Andre, whom she wanted to see before she went into experimental neurosurgery that could (and would) kill her. Nobody believed her, that she had this man in her life — there were no photos, no eyewitnesses, no way that anyone could imagine that she could meet Prince Charming.

I was angry about that — pudgy girls need love too, people. I’ve said it before on this blog and I’ll say it again, non-skinny girls give the best head because we’re HUNGRY.

Anyway, the patient’s sister convinced Meredith that there could not POSSIBLY be a man, which Mer of course used to attempt to convince Derek that Andre was the byproduct of brain-tumor-induced hallucinations.

What I loved about Derek was that he was willing to entertain the hallucinations. I don’t know that even he believed this man was real, but he was willing to wait until his (supposed) 3 p.m. arrival time.

What I loved more was that, in surgery as everything was going wrong, Mer perked up and announced — by intuition alone — “Andre’s here.”

So here I am at a character crossroads myself, between the disenchanted and directionless Cristina and the wants-so-badly-to-believe-it’s-real brain-tumor patient and even the now-crazy Ava who really seems to have believed she was pregnant but it was all a product of her own hallucinations. (No comments about me spontaneously exhaling my breakfast today!)

I’m rooting for hope to win out. I’m just starting to see that there’s so much more to life than what I’ve allowed into it so far. But I’ve always believed that it will take one small miracle to set off a domino effect of dreams coming true — even dreams I didn’t know I had. And maybe the key is to let others know that you have ‘em because maybe, just maybe, they would be happy to help further them along. …

Just a lil friendly reminder to

Texas, Ohio, Vermont and Rhode Island …

“BITCH IS THE NEW BLACK.”

Vote accordingly.

< / public service announcement >

GO HILLARY!

Well, what is there to talk about? Heath Ledger died. Suzanne Pleshette died. Who’s No. 3?

I mean, you wouldn’t be surprised to hear Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan did themselves in. But when it’s someone young, (appears to be) stable and who has several Oscar-worthy performances left in them, it’s a real bummer. (My favorite Heath film, however, will always be “10 Things I Hate About You.”)

It also makes one feel OLD when the person who died (a la Heath, of an apparent prescription overdose) is a few years younger. Further — you wanna try a life that drives you to distraction, come walk around in my shoes for a day, eh? Not saying mine is any worse on an apples-to-apples basis, but man, if these celebrities have nothing to live for, why the fuck am I still here?

What a shitty day yesterday. The Fed cut interest rates, the market tanked, the market staged a pseudo-recovery, Apple came out with great earnings and lost $30 in the aftermarket because its forward guidance wasn’t good enough, and two stars’ lights went out. In any event, blah and rest in peace. Here’s to hoping today brings better things.

Confession: When it comes to MTV’s “The Hills,” I am a junkie. I vote in the polls on the Web site and on People.com. I read every stupid news article about the cast. I watched “Laguna Beach” and never missed an episode of either show. I buy all the music I hear in the shows, too.

I’m so ashamed.

I’ve watched the “Lauren Looks Back” special as many times as it’s been on. I was hooked on “Laguna Beach” back in the day. I have missed only about a half-episode of “The Hills” this season, and no worries — they will replay the series till the end of time or, at least, till the end of this year.

And yes, even though I’ve seen most of the episodes eleventy billion times, I still watch them. I love the fight between Lauren and Heidi. I’m totally “Team Lauren.” I just LOVE how Heidi can either do all kinds of stuff to hurt Lauren, or egg on that dipwad boyfriend of hers to do it, and try to talk to Lauren like, “I don’t know what you’re mad about, as I am fabulous and innocent and so special. And hey, remember all the stuff I did for you when we were friends?”

We all have a Heidi. The one who kept score when they did something wonderful but magically forgot everything ELSE they did to not only cause a rift, but to exacerbate it. And what kills me is how Heidi just keeps showing UP in Lauren’s life. I know MTV has orchestrated a lot of of those run-ins, but sheesh. How much clearer can Lauren be that she wants to “forgive her … and FORGET her”?!?!

But really, I’m watching because I’m rooting for Brody and Lauren to get back together. Because, let’s face it: We all have a Brody, too. The one who is PROBABLY better left as a friend, but who would probably be such a PERFECT match, it wouldn’t even be funny. We all have those moments where you *think* they’re on the same wavelength as you and would totally be on board for moving things a step further, and yet there are so many other moments when we just run scared or cut off our little dreams at the source because, nah. Either they won’t feel the same way or are we just imagining what we felt in the first place? Decisions, decisions.

And yes, I swooned when Brody kissed Lauren goodbye before she jetted off to Paris. I’ve been waiting all damn season for that. Do you get to a point with someone that it’s too late to turn it into something else, or will it be fireworks no matter when or how it happens? I know she was focused on hightailing it to the airport, but did she sit in the car going “OMG, OMG, OMG” on the way?

I can even forgive Brody for being Bruce Jenner’s son. You know, Bruce Jenner of “Keeping Up with the Kardashians”fame. At least that’s a show that’s below MY low standards — I’m not a total loser.

But is Brody as much of a player as he makes himself out to be? Maybe Lauren’s right not to let herself fall for him. You wonder about these guys whose phones are full of ladies — makes you wonder whether you’re just one of a million instead of being treated like the one IN a million that you are … and if they’ll ever fully realize that.

I was reading Mel’s post today about her male friend who’s getting married … who confessed to having a huge crush on her for years. (And how could he not? She’s FABULOUS!) And she’d had a crush on him, too. You wonder how many of us have those stories (and how many will go on with their lives never even knowing about it).

I guess that’s why I’m all about Team Lauren and Brody — you can see the spark that everyone keeps dancing around and is either pretending it doesn’t exist or isn’t actually aware of it. I mean, I guess we all tend to default to, “Meh, they wouldn’t be interested anyway so why entertain it?” But what if. …

What if, indeed.

Hell, I actually turned my work TV to a “Hills” marathon yesterday — figures my boss only visits when I’m chatting with someone or when I’m watching MTV. Gah. I promise, I really do work a lot!!! But I am a sucker for that stupid show — lick me, please. There ain’t no rehab that’s going to dwarf this addiction!

The D.C. metro region had its first snowfall yesterday. *hairball*

Just two weeks ago, I was gazing out my office window and marveling at all the pretty colors of the leaves that were still on the trees. Yesterday? Those leaves had a layer of white powdery shit on them. Odd to see snow before the leaves have died off.

Anyway, it took two attempts to get to work. I cleaned off the cars, headed to the Interstate, and sat. I turned around at the first opportunity, parked it and did some work. Within a half-hour, I walked outside and the cars were even more covered in snow than they were the first time. *headslam*

I would like to extend a special middle finger or two to the state of Maryland for the drivers it chooses to license. It’s either “ride our breaks for 10 miles because something wet is coming out of the sky” or “I’m way more important than you; let me wipe you off the road and make the scaredy-cat drivers even MORE nervous.”

I’m somewhere in the middle, hence why I think THAT finger is appropriate to wave at everyone.

The other thing I hate about winter, outside of Maryland, is the fact that my house is cold. I took this place because the windows looked so sturdy. They ain’t. So I come home, go to my bedroom and get under my deliciously warm IKEA comforter that is supposed to be the warmest blanket you can buy there. Although I need a new duvet cover and sheets to match, I’m currently in 400-TC so my bed is comfy-cozy.

Anyway, the problem is that I turn on the TV and promptly fall asleep the second I get warm. Which means I’ve missed all kinds of good TV this week. Then again, the programs that knocked me out the soonest have been “October Road” and “Private Practice.” So, is it the bed that lulls me into a coma, or shitty shows?

Either way, those are two shows whose writers can STAY on strike!!!