Thanks to streaming Netflix, I’ve just wrapped up five seasons and 63 episodes of Weeds in 55 days. (I had seen Season 5 on a free Showtime preview last year, but it’s much better viewing with four seasons of context).
There is so much in this show I could’ve done without:
– the massage parlor
– drugging daughter with laxatives
– death by sandblaster
– 13-year-old’s threesome
– random alley sex
– cockatoo killing
– Kevin Nealon masturbation
– Mary-Kate Olsen
But the show had me hooked. Mary-Louise Parker. Her facial expressions are one-of-a-kind. Mesmerizing.
Elizabeth Perkins is great, even if Celia Hodes turns cartoonish in later seasons.
Oh, what’s the point of writing about a television show you’ve watched as a solitary experience? Getting rid of regular TV means I don’t watch anything at the same time as anyone else. I can’t say to anyone, “Did you see Weeds last night?” Anyone with Showtime has seen Season 6, and I already accidentally saw too many spoilers.
Geez…the more I think about it, the 63 episodes in 55 days is not something to be particularly proud of.
Ugh. Suddenly very self-conscious about the blog…about myself…I already took one post out of the public domain today. I was complaining about my old bank. Upon further review, it seemed quite…unseemly…and I cared that it made me seem petty and bitter and…being a viewer of 63 episodes of Weeds in the span of two months makes me seem what, then?
Ok…if I’m going to do stream-of-consciousness writing tonight, I should at least complete my thoughts.
I should write about something a little more important. I have kidney news to share. That should go in another post.
Sorry, folks. I am finished with work for the year, and it’s just dawning on me…and I’m not overcome with a feeling of grand relief…more, the enormity of a lot of things are sinking in…and shouldn’t be writing as that happens, at least not here, like this…