30 Rock was strangely non-horrible last night! Have I been brainwashed by the half dozen late night reruns that have slipped past my guard while it's been off the air? Yes. But I laughed more than once, and was weirdly fond of Jack, and while Liz is always fabulous and 95% of what is good about this show, Liz's secret (the first one) was EXCELLENT!!! With three exclamation points.
As for The Office...Jim, how did you feel about this episode? [Trivia]
Me too. No need for elaboration, then. (and yes, I've been hoarding that picture since Halloween)
Accidentally set clock indeterminate number of minutes ahead (turned out to be five); suffered through last gasps of Grey's Anatomy as a result.
Oh my god, that was an amazing dorky dad moment, fumbling with the camera. Too bad the sight of that little pest invasion trips my hate alarms and instantly ruins the parenting effect. I think the only solution is to turn celebrity stalker and comb the internet for every picture or video ever taken of Patrick Dempsey with his actual children. This seems like a normal and appropriate response.
As for the preview: oh, why you gotta cut it together like that? How am I supposed to hope the Cristowenship hits the rocks for good if you give it away up front like that? (If you need me, I'll be the one in the corner with money in my fist, chanting "Fight! Fight! Fight!")
Private Practice, 5x11, "The Standing Eight Count"
Dear Sheldon: I watch too many crime shows not to see shrinks as anything but the enemy. Especially when the shrink in question is you. And especially when you convince him to admit to something that
Dear Jake: "You know what you are? You're a peddler. A baby peddler." -- Signed, Addison.
...that was pretty much my favorite line of the night.
Dear TPTB: I will fight your efforts to make Charlotte and Cooper the perfect domestic married couple standard with my dying breath, even if you make Charlotte spend a whole hour being teary and affectionately comforting by turns and doling out gorgeous kisses that lead nowhere to counteract all the eyeball assault happening elsewhere. Not even if you counter me by making Mason's mom take her dying breath so you can foist an appealing-aged kid on them full time.
Dear Crying Violet: oh, man. I love it, because that's what the little cartoon version of me is doing in my head all the time, but on the other hand, the inner demon from last week has not gone away. It's wielding the same pitchfork that it stabbed into Pete/Violet at the time of the custody trial, the one that killed my ability to stand them for something like a solid year.
Dear Non-Crying Violet: EWWW. Oh, my god, television, please stop pairing up women with younger men. HATE IT. Plus he is lacking hair by choice, and he's not even cute, so three strikes and you're automatically out. If the plan is to use him as leverage to make Pete realize what he's missing, then please do it quickly, because time is running out to salvage that ship with my feelings intact. Also because my stomach is delicate and cannot handle more than about three episodes' worth of him.