Fuck you, NBC. FUCK. YOU.
It's been two days, and I'm still completely DEVASTATED by the Southland cancellation. Further, it appears that it's physically impossible for me to hold a conversation on this topic without going semi-blind with rage and swearing up a motherfucking STORM, so it's probably best that I've been venting (and posting and linking and tagging) my heart out on Twitter instead of here.
(There are lots of articles. The consensus is that NBC is made up of fucking morons, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I am hoping SO HARD that the show will get picked up by a cable network and finally receive some much needed support to develop an audience... and win a few awards in the process, because it really fucking SHOULD. *fingers & toes crossed*)
Wow, I cannot remember the last time I felt this miserable over a show cancellation. If EVER. Trust me, that's astonishing to me too.
***
I've just eaten half a chocolate bar. Not a little candy bar either - we're talking one of those respectable-sized Milka chocolates, the 3.5oz rectangle of cocoa and sugar and milk and nuts and dried fruits, a.k.a. happiness in a purple wrapper.
I still don't feel any better.
***
Speaking of things I'm too depressed to enjoy: got a new apartment. YAY. (See? No real joy. Maybe after the move, when it all sinks in.) The place is in a great Brooklyn location, quiet and clean and lovely and big, and - although rather dull and condo-ish - it's got the majority of things on the wish list. Most importantly? When I walked into the living room, I could immediately visualize a bunch of fangirls in there - and that was, indeed, one of the 3 main selling points of the place! I AM NOT KIDDING EVEN A LITTLE ABOUT THIS.
Plus, the landlady is awesome.
Finally, on my little walk around the neighborhood, I discovered a local watering hole not two blocks from the apartment. And the name of the bar was Tavern on [a] Dean. (For real.) Therefore, I must conclude that my new pad is Winchester-approved! Go, good omens. \o/
***
I wonder if I'll feel better if I finish that chocolate. (There's at least an equal chance of feeling worse if I do. Hmmm, decisions...)
(There are lots of articles. The consensus is that NBC is made up of fucking morons, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I am hoping SO HARD that the show will get picked up by a cable network and finally receive some much needed support to develop an audience... and win a few awards in the process, because it really fucking SHOULD. *fingers & toes crossed*)
Wow, I cannot remember the last time I felt this miserable over a show cancellation. If EVER. Trust me, that's astonishing to me too.
***
I've just eaten half a chocolate bar. Not a little candy bar either - we're talking one of those respectable-sized Milka chocolates, the 3.5oz rectangle of cocoa and sugar and milk and nuts and dried fruits, a.k.a. happiness in a purple wrapper.
I still don't feel any better.
***
Speaking of things I'm too depressed to enjoy: got a new apartment. YAY. (See? No real joy. Maybe after the move, when it all sinks in.) The place is in a great Brooklyn location, quiet and clean and lovely and big, and - although rather dull and condo-ish - it's got the majority of things on the wish list. Most importantly? When I walked into the living room, I could immediately visualize a bunch of fangirls in there - and that was, indeed, one of the 3 main selling points of the place! I AM NOT KIDDING EVEN A LITTLE ABOUT THIS.
Plus, the landlady is awesome.
Finally, on my little walk around the neighborhood, I discovered a local watering hole not two blocks from the apartment. And the name of the bar was Tavern on [a] Dean. (For real.) Therefore, I must conclude that my new pad is Winchester-approved! Go, good omens. \o/
***
I wonder if I'll feel better if I finish that chocolate. (There's at least an equal chance of feeling worse if I do. Hmmm, decisions...)