14-Sep-2005

To revisit the 20th Century Fox lunch-providing aspect of my job, I just had the following conversation with one of my bosses:

G-Money:  When you go get lunch from the kitchen, what do you, like, get?

Me:  Oh, ya know, today I toasted some whole wheat bread and added a touch of crunchy peanut butter and blackberry preserves.

G-Money:  Wow. 

Me:  I know.  Isn't it--

G-Money:  --Depressing?

Me (crestfallen):  Yes.  (then, brightening)  But I got Cheez-its too!

I have to jump to high-five G-Money. 

What a touching scene.  Much like the smattering bits of genius between Pacey and Joey that make up Season Three of "Dawson's Creek," which the Other Me and I have been watching faithfully since last spring.  I mean, I almost gave up on the show when Dawson started sporting that godawful pea coat, but damned if the W-fucking-B wasn't smart enough to realize their star was, in fact, more forehead than charisma.  Enter Pacey as the main contender for whisking Joey's virginity into oblivion, and I am once again hooked.  In fact, I stayed up past my bedtime last night just to see the pathetic look spread across Dawson's massive forehead when he discovered that his best friend and ex were, in fact, an item.  I would have kept watching, except the next episode's description reads "Dawson and Pacey use a regatta to wage war for Joey's affections."  Unless said regatta involves Pacey poking Dawson's eye out and forcing him to cover the socket with a patch, I can't say I'm too thrilled about this one.  But I'll watch, if only to get to the point where Pacey and Joey actually rip each other's clothes off and go at it.  Sigh.