In the relatively recent past, I sat through one of the most important 1 hour and 24 minutes of my life...spent watching the season finale of Desperate Housewives.
Yes, I had been watching the series since Episode 1. And yes, I found it interesting enough to watch until the eighth season. And yes, it had been damn amazing.
So right now I feel that I am compelled to write about something that’s meant a lot to me in the latter half of my life thus far.
Now that’s saying something, because this is the half where (1) I dabbled into drugs (you have to understand that I feel the need to brag about this, to make my life seem marginally exciting,. despite the laughable “amount” that barely had any effect on me), (2) discovered the thrill of
loving liking boys and
sleeping with the same, and (3) studied like fucking nuts (and now I have to stop trying to enumerate what I’ve done for what I call this latter half, because nothing else of relevance
comes to mind).
The point is, through it all, I found time to slip in a few hours (actually that’s a lot of hours, if you add up eight seasons’ worth of 45-minute episodes) to find out what’s happening in Wisteria Lane. Even for the most part I thought I was the only person I knew watching it. And even if Andrew Van De Kamp’s appearances became few and far between.
So anyway. Cheers to Desperate Housewives--by turns absurd, whiny, and unnecessarily dramatic...very much not unlike me. And cheers to Robyn for looking like a man in this video below.