It's quite possible I'm watching too much British television. I've been re-watching Doctor Who again, commentary, extras, the whole tamale. While I adore Doctors nine and ten and honestly can't pick a favorite, I think I may be in love with Russel T. Davies, writer and Exec Producer. He is brilliant like Aaron Sorkin, but geekier and Welsh. I've started using "Hooray" in conversation. Davies and his co-exec producers use it all the time in the commentaries and it has stuck in my brain. The thing is, I can't get any sort of fantasy from Davies because he is gay. It's not like that is anymore of a deterrent than living in the UK or being a famous television writer. It's not like I have a better shot with Eccelston or Tennant because they are straight (probably straight). It's just that adoring someone's mind isn't enough. A good fantasy requires a possibility, however minuscule, that if the person met you they just might find you attractive (and, because it is after all a fantasy, utterly irresistible). Gaa. Too much time spent in my head.
This weekend I will watch the first three DVDs of MI-5 series two. I'm finding all sorts of Anglo phrases and speech patterns in my self-dialog. I really do like the word flat instead of condo to describe my home. Condo feels so awkward and hard. Home is weird. House is incorrect. Apartment is also incorrect, but often slips out. Flat sounds right to me. I don't want to start getting all Anglophile though. I already have a MINI with a boot and bonnet. I must not get pretentious or silly. Maybe I should switch over to Buffy again, or Gilmore Girls. I could always try to rekindle my obsession with Vin Diesel or Andrew Lauer. (You probably know Lauer as Charlie from Caroline in the City, but I obsessed over him as Charlie in the short-live series, Going to Extremes.) Okay, enough exposing my crazy.
Is it spring yet?