So I'm thinking, Man it's the pits that I'm sick. I've got this flu-y viral thing that's taken down half of Dallas.
Then I got to thinking about the phrase "the pits" and I wonder where I first heard it. Then I realize I'd heard it first from my mom, who immigrated to this country over 30 years ago and learned English, no doubt, from a textbook last updated in 1943.
So then I started thinking about where that phrase originated and that made me think of peach pits and how I was always told never to suck the peach meat off of them because I might choke and die.
And that reminded me of The Peach Pit. You know, the diner where Brandon worked. You know - Beverly Hills 90210. And I started thinking about Dylan and how he was supposed to be "bad" and James Dean-ish and well, no one is James Dean-ish except for James Dean.
That got me to thinking about all of the stories I'm missing because of the writers' strike, and why didn't I follow my dream and become a famous writer, anyway? Well.
So there's Ugly Betty, Lost, House, Dirty Sexy Money, etc. etc. I miss you all! At least I've got my Golden Girls reruns on Lifetime, brand new American Gladiators (Nitro, I will always love you.) and semi-funny Colbert Reports to watch. But still, mama's missin' her stories. Achoo! Sniffle sniffle.