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OK, I have a confession to make...a couple of confessions, actually. I'm not proud of these things, but they're true and part of who I am. I've become a Friends junkie. I know. I said I wasn't proud. I never watched it when it was first running and I still don't care for a lot of the storylines. Ross and Rachel? Meh. Too whiney, too self-absorbed. Get over it or get together. Joey's OK and Phoebe's not bad. But the Chandler and Monica story? I love it. They're the characters with whom I most identify, and their plot line is so sweet. (I admit it...if I were gay, I'd so be in love with Chandler.) So now I'm glued to the TV every evening, 6:30 and 7:00pm. So sad. But that's not the end of my shame. No, I'm also reading...I hesitate to type this...Little House on the Prairie books. Yeah. I can kiss my (already scanty) masculinity goodbye. See, Amy has a complete collection and she left one in the bathroom. I started to read it one day during a visit of the more time-consuming nature and it soon became my regular bathroom reading. Hey, it was that or women's magazines... I have to point out here that I don't actually enjoy the books...the writing is at such a basic level that it's almost more difficult than an academic text. It's certainly more frustrating. But eventually, in scraps and bits while doing my business, I'd read enough that I simply had to find out how it ended. Once I finished the book I wanted to know how the family had gotten to Silver Lake, and what happened after they settled there. I figure that reading the whole series will take far less time than watching the TV show. There. I've confessed. Now I shall sit in my shame. I wonder if the video rental place has Friends DVDs... |
