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I Am The Ruptured Spleen |
Go Back |
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have to talk about Must See TV for just a moment, and then we can move
on.
Friends was hilarious; the credits were probably the best part. But here’s my point: I was happy with the way they handled Monica and Chandler. The ending was so sweet. I really thought the episode was going to be, “Look how fat Monica is. Thank god she lost that weight!” but it didn’t turn out that way. Of course there were fat jokes (her dancing around with a bagel in the credits was hysterical) but they were good natured and it was obvious that everyone loved Monica. Then when she did that “I need a PHYSICAL” thing, it was hilarious, but at the same time, Chandler was obviously attracted to her. It was oddly... classy. Now if they’d only let one of the guys actually date a girl with a little meat on her bones, that would be great, too. Looking at Jennifer Aniston and Courtney Cox getting progressively more skeletal is a little troubling. Then there was ER. What a great episode. I was shaking during the first 10 minutes just going, “Come on, Kerry, find them. FIND THEM.” Actually, the part that made me tear up wasn’t the Lucy parts (although Kellie Martin did a great job with them). The part that made me get choky was when Benton looked at Carter and said, “I’m gonna get you through this, man” and Carter answered, “I’m glad it’s you.” I’ve always loved the relationship between these two, and Benton was just crazed over Carter from start to finish. Another glimpse into Benton’s well-hidden heart. There were so many powerful moments: Chuny breaking the news in the coffee shop. Romano throwing the tray across the room and going back to the chest compressions in desperation. Kerry throwing up. Carter’s line: “Lucy’s dead, isn’t she?” Lucy’s scenes. The tear in the corner of her eye. Everything Corday said and did. All extraordinarily acted and well directed. And then there’s the guilt and recrimination episode that SHOULD be shown next week. Instead, they’re showing an episode all about Dr. Gorgeous. Now, keep in mind that I would watch an hour of “Luka sits in a room by himself and practices suturing on a corpse.” But they’re totally blowing the momentum of these last two episodes.
So, we all know I’m going on vacation this weekend, right? I got Monday off, so it’s going to be a three day vacation for us. I was really excited about it. There are so many cool things to see and do up the California coast, which I have been wanting to see and do for such a long time. Whale watching, seal watching, Hearst Castle, 17-mile drive, Big Sur, Carmel, Cambria, Monterey… hopefully the weekend will include continental breakfasts and hot tubs, and lots of belated Valentine’s day sex. Now you’re saying, “Wait a second, Monique. You said you WERE excited about it. What happened?” Well. Last night, I was sitting at the computer, waiting for Friends to come on, playing Buddy the Cyber Lemming, and thinking excitedly about our vacation. I was thinking about the things I still had to buy and pack, including film for my camera, a notebook for writing, and some reading material. I said, “You know, honey, I’d really like to get some ‘me-time’ this weekend.” What I wanted him to say—what I really expected to hear—was something along the lines of, “Of course, honey. You’ve had a hard week. That will be nice for you. I’m sure I’ll find something to do for a few hours.” You know, the mature, adult reaction. But that’s not what I got. He started pouting. “I thought this was supposed to be a romantic weekend. I thought we were supposed to be spending time together,” and blah blah blah. As if I was saying I wanted to do my own thing every day and meet up with him in the hotel room after the bars close, slobbering drunk. Attempting to sublimate my annoyance, I said, “Look, I want our weekend to be wonderful and I’m sure it will be. But having a romantic weekend together doesn’t mean we have to spend 72 hours straight with each other. That’s too much for me.” Boy was THAT the wrong answer. Insert more pouting: “It’s sad that you can’t even spend three days with me…” and blah blah blah. I was flabbergasted. I really, truly thought we had gotten past the “clingy” phase. I also thought he understood one thing about me: I need some time alone. If I spend 72 hours straight with ANYONE ON PLANET EARTH, I get cranky. Tim and I used to do Friday night to Sunday night every freaking weekend, and even then I was ready to take a break by the end of it. Eventually Matt said, “It’s fine. You can do that. I’ll just go for a walk on the pier or something. You don’t like to walk, anyway.” Um, okay. Now, I feel that the vacation has gotten off on entirely the wrong foot. This thing is going to be hanging over my head for three days. Do I want some time alone? Of course. Do I want some time alone if he’s going to sit around and pout because he can’t spend a few hours on his own? No, I don’t. I resent him for acting like a little kid who doesn’t want to be without his mommy. If I do get my time alone, I will just sit there and be annoyed. This may not be a fair thing to feel, but it’s already ruined for me. And that sucks, because I HAVE had a hard week and the vacation could have been perfect. Of course, I want to sightsee and laugh and play and have sex and watch the sunset and all that good stuff. But I would also love to sit by the ocean and write some poetry. I would love to go out and take some pictures. I would love to spend some time sipping cappuccino and reading a magazine. That would make the vacation perfect. More than that, it seems like a NORMAL thing to want. It seems like I have made this aspect of my personality absolutely clear. I know that he feels bad for doing this to me, because he told me so. And I know that he’s making a real effort to make the vacation wonderful and romantic and great. And I know the trip will probably be a lot of fun. But right now? I’m still pissed off. I hate the idea of this bitter, bitter entry sitting here all weekend. Maybe I should say some nice things so everyone doesn’t have a bad taste in their mouth. I guess I could tell you that he really loves me and bends over backward to make me happy. Last night he brought me dinner, did my laundry, came over to comfort me when I cried, got angry at himself for upsetting me, tried to cheer me up, told me he loved me, let me use his computer to play my game… god, now I’m beating myself up for taking advantage of him. I like when he does all this stuff for me, yet I feel suffocated by him at the same time. Maybe I just want to have my cake and eat it too. All the perks of a relationship without any of the hassle. Sigh.
And don’t forget
to send in your predictions for the Diarist.net awards in the contest entitled:
The
Juggernaut Approacheth. The contest deadline is Monday.
Trust me, so far your odds are great.
P.S. It’s later, I’m getting ready to go, and as predicted, I’m feeling a lot better. I went through my tapes because we won’t have a CD player and found kickass stuff like the black album by Metallica, mix tapes I used to listen to at work, mix tapes people made for me, etc. The prospect of hitting the road with that bag full of tapes, a camera and my sketch pad/trip journal… well, I’m happy again. So don’t worry
about me! I'll write the notify
list if I can. Smoochies!
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What
I'm Reading:
Crooked Little Heart and my new Logic Puzzle magazine. No Entertainment Weekly today, sadly.What I'm Writing: Nothing, but wait til I get going!
Sunrise, sunset.Journal Quote of the Day: "Learn a useless language: Dutch, say.Random Tidbit: Vacation all I ever wanted |
