Most of you think I'm just another international playboy of mystery. But really I have a day job! The proof: here is the plan for my dissertation, or "prospectus," in written and picture form.
Now you have no excuse not to know what I do. ;)
I present these to the powers that be on Thursday. Then, if they like, it's off to the races.
The good thing about being smote with food-poisoning/pig flu/hangover is that for two days one can only watch television on the internet. And so I decided to make the most of my malaise by catching up on all this popular culture I keep hearing about.
First, Glee, which everyone everywhere seems so enthusiastic about. Maybe all this enthusiasm built my expectations too high, because I was underwhelmed. It has some zinging moments, but these are marooned in vast expanses of 'plot.' The whole thing is a pale shadow of the teen crud classics on whose shoulders it rests.
This gag never gets old though:
Then I shocked myself by watching something called Jersey Shore.
If you think that clip is bad, rest assured that the actual program is much, much, much worse. Slash better. I couldn't tell! But it was morbidly fascinating. I couldn't look away.
I wanted to watch True Blood, but they weren't giving it away for free, so that was the end of that plan.
I was reminded recently that I needed to post this masterwork, given to me by the talented S in celebration of aging.
But then I was struck down by food-poisoning/pig flu/hangover, slept on a futon, defiled the C train AND my regained velour (at the same time), and watched a lot of bad, bad, bad television for free on the internet. So forgot again, until now.
Came home to an apartment full of Eastern Europeans fixing my ceiling, including the erstwhile super. I decided not to ask; ignorance is new paint is bliss.
