(no subject)

I really really hate the two weeks that encompass Season Finale Time. Like, hate. Hate hate hate hate. Hate.

I especially hate having to watch two finales in one night. Two finales that played me like a cheap piano and left me feeling fierce wretched, and closer to sniffles than I am really comfortable with.

No kidding, Mom nearly had to stage a TV intervention tonight. After House, I had to ask for a hug, because OMG, House, and then fifteen minutes into Bones I needed a hug, and then at the end of Bones I needed a hug, and Mom was like, "You know it's just fiction, right? They're not real people, Alex. Am I going to have to cut you off?"


HATE.

(no subject)

So apparently the cure for finale-enduced depression is eating an obscene amount of home-made shortbread cookie bats and drinking copious amounts of cranberry-apple zinger tea with honey and lemon.


Now I collapse into a sugar coma.