Sad, sad news

I am addicted to The Gilmore Girls. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "But A. Lo, The Gilmore Girls airs on the WB, the same network that airs things like Buffy and Angel and a lot of other useless crap."

And normally I would agree with you. But trust me, The Gilmore Girls is a very witty, well-thought out show with at least 10 references per episode that are completely over my head. I love it! And let's be honest, being addicted to a show that airs on the WB is better than being addicted to crack or plastic surgery or Richard Simmons infomercials. And besides, I'm watching seasons one through three on DVD, which is not the same as watching it on the WB.

And it is nice to have something semi-safe to be addicted to at this point in my life. (I mean, you know, something that will not rot my intestines or destroy my credit rating or get me pregnant or end up feeding me Kool-Aid laced with cyanide.) This is partially because I have become very, very weird after my year in California as a nun. I'm all depressed and I cry more than usual and am still eating at an above-average rate, but now I can drink grown-up things as well, which makes things a lot more interesting, at least.

Although I have to admit that much of this weirdness could come from stressors which were waiting for me here at home. One of those was seeing a bunch of elders--the ones who fired my father--at a funeral for a 23-year-old guy I grew up with. And seeing all his family and a bunch of other people I hadn't seen in six months since I refuse to attend church there and realizing that although those people used to be like family to me, they hadn't made any effort to get in touch with my family or with me. It was like there was a big divorce and the other side got to keep all the friends.

And the next day we shipped my Mom off to start a new job six hours away while Dad and I stayed here to sell the house I grew up in and look for jobs ourselves. Please also note that this requires lots and lots of cleaning and packing. Anyone who has ever lived with me can tell you that that's not my thing.

And let me tell you that no one is falling all over themselves to hire me yet. Why not? They must be intimidated by all my skills and good looks. Or maybe word got out that I now know how to knit. I hear lots of people find that formidable these days.

And God and I have been in opposite corners for a while now, or it at least feels that way. Still don't know what to do about that.

In other news, I just got an unconfirmed report that my 27-year-old ex-boyfriend has a new girlfriend. She, however, happens to be 19. Now not only does this suck because I am so, so single that it's sad, but he wins the whole "who-gets-a-significant-other-first" race. Not to mention the fact that she was potty-training while he was going through puberty and that he was dating me when she was going to her senior prom (which was last year, folks). Let me also mention that to catch up with him I'd have to find a 15-year-old to date. Ewwww.

That's it. Best friends, when you're all in the same country and have quit making trips to the emergency room, we are going to Chili's for those huge margaritas that I like.

Okay, I'm more depressed now. Going to watch another episode of The Gilmore Girls.