As said to Miss Beancurd, “You know you’re getting older when you begin to measure your life in TV show seasons…”
I’m not in the generation where we ask where were you when that rocketship exploded (I want to say Challenger, but I’m currently too lazy to look it up) or where were you when JFK got shot? I could ask where were you when the planes crashed into the Twin Towers (but I’m a New Yorker, and that’s still a little raw for me)(If you must know, I was woken up by a good friend of my roommate, my soph year in college, who wouldn’t tell me what was wrong over the phone, just breathlessly ordered me to wake up my roomie and tell her to turn on the TV) or where were you when Karr was arrested in Thailand — but don’t you think that’s all too morbid?
We want to be happy. So where were you when Jen first entered into Dawson’s life? Where were you when Spike showed up in Angel’s office? Where were you when Denny died? Where were you when William Hung showed up at American Idol tryouts?
When I was younger, my week was divvied into days via homework and projects and tests. Now, my weeks are determined by TV shows. I just portioned up my last couple of weeks among the Big Brother finale (should I apply?), the premieres for Grey’s Anatomy, Survivor, and the Amazing Race. I work. What have I got to do at night?
Watch Prime Time TV.