Well, inquisitive reader, let me answer. I am a wife, a mom and I have chronic bad hair. I like made uppy words and Unnecessary Capitalization. If you know who the guy in the bottom right picture is, you're probably my best friend. Also, I own several Edward dolls which I write about HERE. No, I don't use drugs. By the way, if your love canned tomatoes, visit my stash HERE.
If you're one of the 963,103,736,153 people last night to watch last, then this post is for you, my friend. Also, I totes made up that number. But I was one of them, whatever the number may be.
It's here, folks, the sixth and final season of LOST. No more island. No more confusing endings. No more dirty, sweaty, shirtless men and women with perfecty makeup despite intense heat and no showers. And hopefully we will finally *crossing fingers* get our questions answered like:
1. What in the $#%% is going on?
2. What happened to the timeline?
3. Is that guy Esau?
4. What in the @$%# is going on?
I dread it already. I dread the last episode. I dread the emptiness that shall soon follow. I dread the void of a great show. I dread the lack of water cooler talk at work about if the island represents heaven, hell, Walmart, etc.
I've always sufferred from post holiday/post vacation/post (insert good thing) blues. I've always hated January. Because it means the end of Christmas. I hate the week after vacation. Because it means all that fun in the (insert sun, mountains, theme park) is over. And my life will go back to copious amounts of laundry. And I already hate the end of LOST. Because there's nothing good on TV during the summer. Not even old episodes of Charlies Angels.