I'm gonna go to west Memphis and look for my joy

When the world gets to me a little too hard, there are a few things I can do to make myself feel better: Re-read a good romance novel. Or Anne of Green Gables. Watch Dirty Dancing for the 8,000th time. But when it comes to "no, for serious, I fucking need to smile right now or I will either cut a bitch or dissolve into a pool of anxious goo," my go-to for the last several years has been Jensen Ackles lip-sycing to "Eye of the Tiger." Because I cannot watch that video without 1. smiling like an idiot and 2. feeling better. I mean, even if you're not a Supernatural fan, that shit is funny as hell. And Jensen is stupid hot. Bygones. My point is this: There's a new contender in town, and that is the Boston-themed Hyandai ad. Chris Evans! John Krasinski! Rachel Dratch! Big Papi! (His Bigness, if you please.) It cracks me up every time I watch it. The over-the-top accents. The combined hotness. It's fucking perfect. (And when John calls Chris "kid," it slays me. I don't know why.) Hopefully, these two YouTube clips will get me through the rest of what is guaranteed to be a truly epic shitshow of a year.

Problems of the binge-watching era

Switching between the world of Luke Cage and the world of The Crown is a little strange. And I kind of wish the corgis would show up in Harlem, but that's probably not in the foreseeable future. Plus, I would worry about them getting caught in the crossfire. (In other news, both are great and everyone else has already watched them.)

Out of this world

Okay, so I totally lied. I didn't watch grown-up stuff. Well, I did expose J.R. to the joys of The Usual Suspects and Children of a Lesser God, but I'd already seen those movies. Left to my own devices (and the evil temptress that is Netflix), I've been watching Roswell. Yes, the late '90s drama about teen aliens. I admit, sometimes I roll my eyes so hard I give myself a headache, but for the most part, it's fun. Some of the fun, it's true, comes from watching actors as teenagers who I knew only from their later work. (Katherine Heigl, I'm looking at you. Colin Hanks! The Good Guys! Too soon. Sigh.)

My greatest joy, however, was discovering that the series was created from the brilliant mind of Jason Katims, who brought us the ridiculously good Friday Night Lights, then followed up with the quiet but brilliant Parenthood (I miss you already), and the so-far, so-hilarious About a Boy. Who knew this is where he got started? (Well, I imagine he knew. And people who watched Roswell when it was actually televised.) Sign me up for whatever this man does next.

Insert poncy accent here

My love for British mysteries continues, although it doesn't seem necessary for the authors to actually be British, as long as their books are set somewhere in Great Britain, be it modern day or post-WWI. Either way works for me. I've really been enjoying the Ruth Galloway series from Elly Griffiths, although I was initially hesitant because I'm not a big fan of "forensic" mysteries. These are centered around forensic archaeologist Ruth Galloway, but there's actually fairly little forensics or archaeology involved (and for me, that's a good thing). I've also picked up the Duncan Kincaid/Gemma James series by Deborah Crombie, but there are a lot more of these already in the bag, so I'm still behind. Bygones. The point is this: After reading all these mysteries about the British, when you watch The Honorable Woman, which is set in London, and some lady is supposed to be playing an American, you pick up a few things. Like, no American is going to say that she and her boyfriend had a "row" when she means they had an argument. Also, during that fight, if he threw shit around, she wouldn't say he "pitched" things about. Pitched a fit, sure. Clearly, all this reading has helped me become more critical. Like I really needed any help in that department.

What?

Apparently, resistance is futile, because I have finally given in: I'm watching Scandal now. Lo, for more than three years I have resisted the siren call of Shonda Rhimes, but I can do it no longer. This show is powerfully addictive. I don't especially like any of the characters (except maybe Huck, and it seems wrong to feel the most empathy toward the assassin, but there you have it), and I've been known to roll my eyes more than a time or two over the ridiculous storylines and melodramatics, but I cannot deny that the storytelling is compelling. And binge-watching this shit on Netflix is super dangerous. I'm not sure if this is a step up or a step down from my usual binge-watching of teen television, but it must be a sign of something. Shonda Rhimes eventual takeover of the world? An impending mental breakdown? The apocalypse? I'll let you know when I do, but until then, go ahead, watch Scandal -- if you're not already. You'll likely regret it, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Where have you been

I feel like I've been incredibly busy lately, but I can't say doing what. Work has been a bit hectic and stressful, but that doesn't seem to account for it. To be truthful, I don't feel like I've been present. Not so much that I'm going through the motions, but sometimes I feel like I'm just living without even noticing it. Time is just ... moving.

Anyway, J.R. and I started watching Revenge and were completely caught up in a few days. (Such trash, but in a good way.) New Girl is so ridiculously funny that we'll watch an episode twice in a row. Also, I read books, but none that you need to know about. Oh! And we went to wine country and didn't drink wine, but we did attend a beautiful wedding.

And tomorrow, I'm off to Boston for the giving of the thanks and the wearing of the eating pants. Also, seeing the friends, family, etc. I think I may make my annual "blog more" New Year's Resolution early, people. But not the eat-better/exercise-more shit. That's got to wait until January.

I'm not a teenager, but I watch them on TV

J.R. has been away on business this week, leaving me alone with Netflix Instant and HuluPlus, which leads to awesome things like watching a bunch of episodes of MTV's Awkward. Sure, it's a show about a teenage girl who has an accident which makes people think she tried to commit suicide and all her trials and tribulations being a girl not in with the in crowd, but it's actually a pretty decent show. It makes me laugh, and I can watch multiple episodes in a row. I don't know. My judgment may be compromised at this point since I'm denied the TV I usually watch. (Though with how much True Blood is sucking this season, I'm beginning to think Awkward is actually a better show. Maybe I should start watching Switched at Birth, too.)

At a loss

It feels like I don't really have anything to say anymore (though that never stopped me before). Maybe I'm just in a funk because I've been sick so long. Or perhaps because the Red Sox didn't get the "spring training is over" memo. Whatever it is, I have the April blahs. I read the latest Kate Atkinson with a quickness, and I liked it, but it's pretty much more of the same, so nothing newsworthy there. I don't know what to read next. J.R. and I have actually managed to almost completely empty the DVR (just a few more episodes of The Good Wife to go, plus my extremely old Lost episodes). I don't feel like watching any of the movies I've got queued up at Netflix. I'm at a loss here, people.

A few of my favorite things

I love making J.R. watch romantic comedies and then cackling to myself when he obviously enjoys them. For instance, tonight I made him watch Notting Hill, which, to be perfectly frank, has some flaws (beginning and ending mostly with Julia Roberts), but nonetheless, is a movie I enjoy (even years after I've gotten over my massive crush on Hugh Grant). The whole thing is almost as much fun as making him watch the Gilmore Girls, which he maintains he doesn't like, but I'm not buying it. Who doesn't love snappy banter?

Twice I have lived forever in a smile

J.R. and I were watching Parenthood the other night, and I had to admit that sometimes, I just want to live inside Bob Dylan's Forever Young. Not everyone loves Bob the way I do, but ... he just gets me, man.

I also have to admit that Monica Potter is my least favorite person on the show, and while sometimes the show irritates the shit out of me, it pretty much nails family dynamics on the head. My family may annoy me, frustrate me, and otherwise drive me batshit insane at times, but damn if I don't love them and miss them every day.

Down with the sickness

I have an ear infection. I know, I thought only babies got those, too, but apparently, no. You can get one as an adult, and it makes you just as miserable as a baby, capable only of crying and pulling at your ears. It's hideous. The pain I could take, but I really hate the clogged ears -- hearing everything through a fog sucks. As does the sweet ringing sound that accompanies said clogged ears. Good times. You can see why I've been internet-absent for the past week and more. Mostly, I've been curling up on the couch catching up on Hawaii Five-0, because it's interesting enough but doesn't require actual thought.

One really good guy

Is there anything I don't love Bradley Whitford in? I think my love of Josh Lyman is well documented, and while Studio 60 was not my favorite show, I still loved Bradley in it. And now that's he's in The Good Guys, I'm in, too. He's frickin' hilarious, people, and in a completely different way from his previous characters. The mustache alone cracks me up, as well as ridiculous lines like, "Let's go bust some punks." (Quickly becoming my go-to quote, right behind "I really am ruggedly handsome.") Colin Hanks makes a decent foil as the straight man, and I hope someday to get over the "Hey! That dude looks a lot like Tom ... Right." We're only a few episodes in, but I'm pleased so far and I'm hoping it's just going to get better from here.

Apparently, my happy place is a fictional Cape town

Various things have conspired this week to make me less than happy, though I thought my awesometastic weekend in Cincinnati had set me up for a good week. Well, the travel did make me tired. And work is definitely in an interesting transitional mode right now. Plus varied and sundry things including but not limited to: money, traffic, and the sad, sad state of the world. Bygones. The point is this: When shit comes down the pike, it's time to put in the Dawson's Creek, bitches.

It's important that you start with the second half of season three, when Pacey realizes that Joey is his one true love. And he's all Pacey! And he buys her a wall! And Dawson is a butt and has a big head. But Pacey! Sigh. The critical thing to remember, though, is this: Turn that shit off before it goes bad. Just like in Top Gun, you have to know when to stop. And that time is episode 414: A Winter's Tale. Everything after that is downhill, until you get to the last 2 minutes of the series finale. I'm here to help, people.

Oh, Wellesley women

I can't believe the notorious madam on NCIS went to Wellesley. Yes, the student loans were expensive, but I was an English major and I managed to pay them off without resorting to prostitution (not that I didn't consider it a few times, along with selling an organ or two). No way would she have escaped a single women's studies class and stayed a prostitute! Oh, well, at least she's a nice hooker (more or less). But really, Swelles is not getting the most positive portrayals, people -- although I have to admit I like the hooker way better than the annoying Mona Lisa Smile girls.

All good things

I don't know what the hell the world is coming to -- and there will be no one to save us now that Jack Bauer will no longer grace our airwaves! Okay, so it may be time to let Jack rest. He's saved the world about as many times as Buffy, though with more fun torture scenes. (And cougars!) Dude is tired. I respect that. But I want more! My two favorite Jacks are both saying goodbye this season (even though I'm like 800 episodes behind on Lost, I know it's leaving, too). My life is getting pretty tough right now. And to top it all off, fucking Pepperidge Farm is no longer making the world's best cookie, the Mint Brussels. Bastards! Where am I to turn in this dark, cold world? Where?

Everything I know, I learned from TV

Not only do I really, really like Parenthood, I really like the music. Now, don't get me wrong, I already had some Josh Ritter before this week's episode, but Change of Time is a great fucking song, and I know about it because it was on the show. And now I've got even more Josh Ritter in my collection, and he is not to be confused with Jason Ritter (John's son), who it seems is going to flirt with Lorelei next week.

Awesome.

Things I'm liking right now

Mass Effect. Parenthood (with Peter Krause! and Lorelei!). Life Unexpected. Paychecks. Mornings when the mountain is out (except for when it fucks up traffic). My Magic Mouse.

Things I'm not liking right now include, but are not limited to: Missing my friends. Missing my friends' babies who crawl and have personalities develop when I'm not around. Tiredness. Seattle's endless love affair with traffic for no discernible reason. Diets.

This post brought to you by tape delay

I finally finished watching the Emmys today -- yup, the beautiful world of the DVR allowed me not to miss Neil Patrick Harris's big night whilst I was flying back from L.A. I gotta say, Neil was pretty funny, and the show moved along nicely. I'm entirely sick of Mad Men winning best drama, but I guess I can't complain because the Daily Show won its 8,000th award, and I was okay with that. (Because Jon Stewart is, in fact, Jon Stewart. Virtually incapable of doing wrong.) Bygones. The dresses were lovely in general (aside from the Scottish director-lady who needed better foundation garments), but no one made any big statements with clothes. (Okay, I will also say that LL Cool J and Chris O'Donnell needed better tuxes.) And, of course, the in memoriam made me cry like a baby. Patrick Swayze! Bea Arthur! Paul Newman. Damn.

Incomplete

I've been watching the Complete Jane Austen on Masterpiece (yeah, they dropped "Theatre" like a rapper bustin' it down to a single name), and I have to admit, I'm enjoying it immensely. Persuasion was lovely, though the actress who played Anne had a strange look about her. Luckily, the captain was hot enough to make up for it. I'd seen the previous version, so I was up on the details of the story. Northanger Abbey, however, I'd never seen nor read, so I was really excited to see it. Apparently, it was Austen's first completed book and not published in her lifetime; by the movie, I can see why, though it was still a delightful trifle. (I watch all this British crap, and this is what happens to me: I say "trifle." Bygones.)

I'm looking forward to a new Emma, as I can't stand the Gwennie version. Smartly, they're not tackling a new version of Pride and Prejudice (since you can't really beat Colin Firth). I'm not sure how I feel about new versions of Sense and Sensibility (why try to top Emma Thompson?) and Mansfield Park, but I'll watch them anyway, just to be complete.

Too much too little too late

I don't know what to do about tomorrow. My resources are stretched to the limits, as are my nerves. The Pats face the Chargers, the Sox face the MFY, it's game five of the WNBA finals, and the freakin' Emmys are on. I mean, really, people, is it too much to ask that they spread this shit around? Monday is completely open! Today doesn't have much going on. Tuesday? Nothing on Tuesday! My freaking DVR can't handle this much pressure, and I can't choose between them all. I'm actually contemplating taping the sporting events and chilling with the ladies and the dresses at the Emmys. Way less fucking pressure and way less chance of my head exploding like it did last night.