I Get Everything.

The Season finale of Bones almost did me in. I collapsed right before it came on that's how frightening it was. Not to worry I was able to watch it upon regaining consciousness. Makes one ponder the meaning of the word "consciousness" really.

Well, as I'm sure you know and everyone in the world is talking about, the show was amAzing. Cute guy they killed off from Southland I blogged about a few months ago was on and I'm like really? Booth and Bones are having some kind of immaculately conceived love child and I'm like what? Four months of emptiness, no TV despair, going on vacation and actually doing things in the sun angst and I'm like can we hold off for a sec?

The last season finale of Bones saw me lose my shit and up and quit my job. Pointlessly fighting the urge to do exactly the same thing as we write. Some potentially internecine squabble broke out yesterday over how many lights to turn on. I skipped off to the kitchen to snag some popcorn so I could watch the spectacle but when I got back the situation had been sadly diffused. Fuckers. Limped back to kitchen with my popcorn and flipped through an issue of Rolling Stone. Think, Robert Plant couldn't be more puckered. Finished popcorn and enjoyed some tea. Passed the time. By the time I clued back into work I was just in time to seem interested in this sad douche desperately trying to form a few phrases. Ask myself (hopefully silently) whether I roll my eyes in moments like this? It all goes by so fast and here we are Friday upon us. Lets.