Literally Speaking

You know that curse? That one the mother often calls down upon her recalcitrant daughter? You know, the one that goes, “Someday you will have a child just like you and then you will be SO SORRY, so help you God!”? You know? That one?

First of all, RUDE. I was a joy as a child. My teachers all said so. I’ll bet. I’m pretty sure. Probably. I mean, I was friendly, yo? With all the conversation-making and storytelling? And super helpful, too, especially when we had substitutes. They didn’t even need their lesson plans with me around, I tell you what. I mean, I was more than happy to point out all the class rules and procedures and not a bit shy to correct any divergance from The Way Things Should Be. I was just THAT helpful. The subs all thought so. I’ll bet. Probably.

Second of all, I momentarily forgot what I was talking about.

So… the curse. Right. Rewind to Sunday night when my kiddos insisted I watch (i.e., forced me to sit through) some random show about these real-life kid ghost hunters– whose legitimacy I totally call into question, by the way. I mean, what parent is all, “Sure, honey! You can stay out ALL NIGHT at that reportedly haunted hotel with a few of your friends and some super expensive night vision equipment, web cams, EMF devices, flux capacitors… Go on! Scoot!” Hey, I’m just saying the premise is flawed, is all.

Anyway, toward the end of the show, the token scaredy-cat girl was all, “Oh my gosh! I was literally scared to death!” and I grinned to myself because I AM just that much of an English geek.

Turns out I wasn’t the only one enjoying a bit of a laugh at the expense of the silly, scaredy-cat girl, who, quite frankly, should rethink her career choice because ghosts and haunted places? They’re SCARY, okay? That’s kind of the point. THINK about it. I’m only saying.

But I digress.

Before I could use this moment as a Teaching Opportunity (I think we’ve established my inherent geekiness, so shut it), I heard giggles. A smothered chuckle. Then, “Well, not literally,” my 13-year-old son drawled.

“I know, right?!” agreed my 11-year-old daughter in her I Scoff At Your Supreme Ignorance voice.

My 10-year-old daughter, perhaps for my benefit, added scornfully, “Because she’s still ALIVE?!” She turned toward me. “Right, Momma?”

Struck as I was by the astonishing degree to which my English Geekiness has rubbed off on my kiddos, I could only nod. She, apparently assured by my arrested expression that she had indeed got the joke, turned back toward the TV.

I couldn’t contain a small snort of laughter and a rueful shake of the head as it struck me that, by golly, my mother’s curse? Totally upon me. And you know what?

I’m not even a little sorry.

Hey, NBC! Don’t Chuck With My Favorite Show!

Okay. After Veronica Mars and Pushing Daisies, you’d think I’d learn, right? You would think it! Hey, Cat! Don’t fall in love with a TV show! The network will let you down in the end.

That said, Angel Cohen over at Television Without Pity gives a compelling argument for why Chuck, a show on the bubble, should be renewed for a third season. And c’mon! This is Television Without Pity! As in “Spare the Snark, Spoil the Networks”! That is totally their motto! So there you go.

Wait. What does “on the bubble” mean? Well, I will tell you. No need to be pushy, there, hotshot. GOSH. See, a show that is “on the bubble” is a show that does a’ight for itself, but it hasn’t gotten the green light yet on a pick-up for next year, meaning that the outlook is, shall we say… uncertain. Like, the Chuck bubble o’ goodness could burst at any time! POP! Get it? Get it? Bubble? BURST? Because the show gets CANCELED? Which, BTW, would totally blow.

Oooh, pun SNAP!

So I have to concur with all the kudos for the well-written storylines (with adequate suspension of disbelief, naturally), the fabulous and quirky cast, the will-they-won’t-they angst of Chuck and Sarah’s relationship, the gruntiness of Special Agent Casey, the sweet bromance between Chuck and Morgan, and the pop-culture fun woven into every episode of Chuck. Oh, and Jeffster. Can’t forget the Jeffster! I mean, any show that can seamlessly weave “Africa” by Toto into an episode is aces in my book. Aces!

And does it need to be said that Zachary Levi (AKA: Chuck) is totally Nerdalicious? Because I will totally say it if it needs to be said. I will. Don’t think I won’t because you would be so wrong. He is Nerd-a-licious. And Yvonne Strahovski as Sarah? Come ON. Plus, we get to see Captain Awesome shirtless in practically every episode, which, AWESOME?!

I’m not going to lie.  Despite my best efforts to harden my heart, I will be genuinely crushed if they cancel Chuck, my favoritest show on TV.

Basic Blog Skillz 101

I’m kicking it Old School. Or is it “taking it back to the beginning”? Starting anew, perhaps? Is anew even a word? It doesn’t LOOK like a word. Maybe I’m thinking of afresh. A’fresh? A’new? Whatever. English is stupid. I’m switching. Hablare’ espanol ahora!

Okay, as my choices of foreign punctuation are limited on my iPhone… Ich werde Deutsch jetzt sprechen! Or something!

Darn. My choices of conversational German phrases are even more limited than my iPhone’s foreign punctuation options, so FINE. I will stick with stupid English for now. Under protest! Because it’s STUPID.

I had a point earlier. I’d better start anew.

Oh! Yes. With the afreshness of blogging. Blog Skillz 101. I’m so totally focused now. See, I’m out of practice. You know, with the blogging? It used to be that I would see something, or hear a noise, or eat a yummy pastry of some sort, and BOOM! Blog idea! But the blogging senses? When they are neglected? Underused? Cast aside, if you will? They get rusty.

I know, right?! I totally thought it would be like riding a bike, you know? Just hop back on and pedal like crazy, and VROOOM! Off you go! A blur of blonde pigtails and pink pedal pushers, with sparkly iridescent ribbons dancing in the sunlight as they stream from the handlebars…

You know, like that.

But NO. It has to be DIFFICULT. Like, what do I write about? Why aren’t those moments jumping out at me? The blog moments? The ones that practically scream, “Blog me! Good LORD, what are you waiting for?!” and I’m like, “Okay! I will! Shut up now!” and they are all, “Fine!” and I’m like, “Fine!” and then we kiss and make up because, honestly, it’s silly to fight with those moments because they are only trying to HELP.

So I am going to have to consciously LOOK for those moments and practice BLOG writing (as opposed to the OTHER type of writing I do all day long, which, incidentally, is one of the main factors contributing to my blogging slackage… just so’s you know).

So, yeah. Basic Blog Skillz 101. If anyone has any suggestions for curriculum, please let me know. Except if you’re going to say AI recaps because WE ARE NOT SPEAKING. And I don’t have cable, but that is secondary to the We Broke Up thing. I might be amenable to Chuck recaps, though, because DUDE. The TWoP Chuck recaps? Suck. I know, right? It’s a major disappointment in my life. Right up there with the fact that I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier. AND I didn’t get accepted into the Evil League of Evil. HUGE disappointment there, obviously.

But I’ve registered for the class and I’m a totally quick study– and a bit of a kiss-ass, truth be told– so I should be fine! It should be fine.

Right?

Go gentle into that good night. Go on!

Sometimes? I get this naggy, achy feeling, deep down, deep in my heart, and I am struck by an almost overwhelming desire to walk away from it all. And by “it all” I mean the world wide web. Just to be clear. I’m not referring to my job, or my television shows, or TGIM and the kiddos. I mean, I don’t want all y’all thinking I’m going to pull a Marie Osmond and leave the nanny with credits cards and blank checks, all like, “I’m OUT of here!” For one, I don’t have a nanny. So, you know, there’s that. Also, Chuck and Heroes and Ugly Betty are back, so I can’t just pick up and GO, right? Madness, that’s what it would be. Sheer, unadulterated madness! Chuck is in 3D this week! I know, right? 3D! AND Joss Whedon’s new show, Dollhouse, is set to air in a week or so. Like I would miss that! Hello? It shall be awesometastic. Oh, yes it shall.

So… when I say walk away from it all, I mean the web. The Blogosphere. To simply drift away from the Twitter and the Facebook. To walk away from the vidcast and the blog. It’s been a good run! Who knew back in 2004 that I would still be here, here in the Blogosphere, writing and filming and friending and tweeting? Who knew? Certainly not I. I honestly had no idea what I was getting myself into, what I would learn and become, and sometimes… well, it feels like too much. See, I’ve gone and developed Expectations. And with Expectations comes Self Doubt. Envy. That big meanie, Judgy McJudgerpants. And I start to wonder stuff. Like, “Oh NO. What if I run fresh out of pithy thoughts? What if suddenly I’m pithyless? What then?” That is exactly the moment when I get the naggy, achy feeling, and there’s a part of me that wants to slip away. To go gentle into that good night.

And by “go gentle into that good night” I mean walk away. You know, from the web. Just to be clear. When I quote Dylan Thomas, I am speaking metaphorically. There is no need for intervention. ARE WE CLEAR?

I do understand that walking away from it all would be bittersweet. Bitter because I slightly neglected several well-loved hobbies to delve into the new ones, and where would that leave me if I turned away? But sweet, because I’ve made so many friends through all of it. See, this is why I am all about the milk chocolate. Bittersweet chocolate blows. Michael Scott had it right. “Why not just sweet? I mean, who are you helping?” And that’s what I keep asking myself. Who am I helping? Me? Who? And does it matter? Does it? With the gajillion bloggers out there, will anyone even notice if I fade away? I don’t know! But truthfully, I can’t help but think it hugely presumptuous of me to think anyone will. Notice, that is. Because, bold much? Honestly.

If I’m going to power through the Self Doubt and the Envy, and push aside the antics of one Mr. Judgy McJudgerpants, if I plan to rage, rage against the dying of the light, I guess I feel as if it should be worth it. I don’t want to be taken in again, as with American Idol, who strung me along for years and years before finally revealing itself as a sham and a liar and a time-suck of epic proportions! I should have learned after the Ruben-Clay fiasco of ’03, but no. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into that relationship and where did it get me?! Huh?! Nowhere, bucko, that’s where! And I can’t get all those late-night hours spent dialing and voting and recapping BACK, no sir! That’s all I’m saying. I don’t want to look back and be all, “Dude. Why did I hang on to that relationship with the web for so long? Good LORD. What was I THINKING?”

You see?

It’s a conundrum, I tell you what. And by “conundrum” I mean… conundrum. Just so we’re clear.

In other news, I am occasionally melodramatic and strange.

Note to Self…

NOTE TO SELF: Never watch heart-wrenching episodes of “Gossip Girl” while riding the Metro to work. When you tear up, sniffle, and let slip muffled sobs because Chuck is BREAKING YOUR HEART, comments to fellow riders (who are openly staring) such as “…allergies…” or “…stupid dry contacts…” as you brush away the watery mascara-laced tears are not fooling ANYBODY. Also, buy bread and milk. We’re out.

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