Today is Thursday. Glee aired two days ago. I am already crawling. I think I am suffering from withdrawals.
All the classic symptoms are there. I’m antsy. Nervous. I can’t sit still. I can barely concentrate on writing these words. I keep wanting to go to the DVR, the one upstairs because the house has banned Glee from the common room of the house and only Sarah wants to watch it. I keep browsing the internet for reactions to the episode. Heck, I’d even go to find spoilers. The only thing keeping me honest is my declaration on this blog read by
millions five. Maybe four.
I don’t know how much longer I can hold off. What is there to live for without Glee? All the singing and the horrible writing. Their smiling while sobbing faces? Did Wemma finally hook up and are Puckelberry sneaking around behind Faine’s back? (Or would it be Blinn?) How will I face my friends who have not forsaken this show? What will we talk about? How did we ever speak before?
I spend an absurd amount of time on the internet. More than is probably healthy. While I’m on, I typically try to only focus on comic book, movie, and TV news with a little bit of music thrown in. Because of that, it’s hard to pretend that Glee just doesn’t exist anymore. It’s like trying to quit smoking but hanging out in smoke shops. You’re just inundated with the very thing that you’re trying to avoid. It doesn’t matter that not smoking (and not watching Glee) is good for you. I just want it.
My name is Kristi McDowell. And I am a Glee addict. I’ve been clean for 37 days. But let me assure you, it doesn’t get any easier.