It's Tuesday afternoon. I'm doing laundry.
It's very cleansing for the soul, doing laundry. I don't like having mine sent out, I need to wash my own stuff.
And then realize I'm running late, pull them out of the dryer too early, and leave them in a pile to mildew until I wash them again next week.
So in these few minutes between cycles, let's talk about television. I would discuss the diaphragm spasms I am experiencing with the anticipation of Project Runway starting tomorrow--literally, my insides are TWITCHING as I think about it--but there's nothing to say until we all see it. So instead, let's discuss...
Last season, I loved Heroes. But now...there are all these new characters, every scene they're jumping back-and-fourth three hundred years, Veronica Mars is running around shooting lightning out of her hands and what is up with the Mexican who leaks soy sauce out of her eyes? It's too much.
And Milo Ventimiglia was so cute, I wanted to smush him. So nerdy, so cute.
But that Milo...I'm glad to see he's been going to the gym, but his initial appeal was that he played the dorky brother, with the odd man-wedge haircut, and you rooted for him because he was the underdog. Now, he cut his hair and waxed his chest and he never smiles, he takes himself so seriously. I don't want to smush him anymore. And sorry, but an action hero just can't be a guy with bow legs like that.
The magic is gone.
Although watching Niki/Jessica do lines last night...was hot. We love Ali Larter.