My husband and I were fortunate enough to be treated to dinner at the Metropolitan Bar and Grill the other night. It's a fabulous steak house in Seattle and I'd never been. It was a warm summer night, which is a fabulous time to be walking around Seattle, the restaurant was beautiful - all deep woods and shiny brass and little green bankers lamps, and the steak was amazing. I mean, after the first bite, I felt like it was a crime against nature for beef to ever be prepared any other way. Every other good bite of beef I'd ever had paled in comparison. I might as well eat chicken. Or fish. And I don't even like fish. If I'm not having steak at the Met.
Which is also why television is dead to me. I'm a big fan of good television. Big. I love tv. I actually prefer it to film, usually, because it's there for you every week, ready to hang out, not flitting in and out of your life for a brief two hours with everyone else in the theatre. And yes, I despaired some for the fall lineup after losing lost and 24, but I had some things I still watched - Bones, The Mentalist, Lie to Me, a smattering of "reality" television.
And then, on a whim (and at the prodding of my mother and sister) I turned on The Good Wife. And much like the steak at the Met, I can't watch anything else. I didn't even watch the finale of SYTYCD, and for those of you reading this blog last summer, you know I love SYTYCD. I tried to watch Lie to Me. Nope, still like Tim Roth, but I was bored. Tried to watch Top Chef. Eh. It's gone the way of Red Robin hamburgers. It's just bleh.
So now I need something new to do with all my time. Something besides staring at my Tivo menu willing a new episode of The Good Wife to spontaneously appear. That doesn't work, by the way, but now I have an honest answer to the "what would your super power be" question.
(You can keep your vampires and werewolves, thank you very much)
A Thousand Mornings
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