Buffed 31 January 1999

It seemed like a good plan at the time. I lazed around most of the day Saturday, sleeping more often than not. Finally it got dark enough to not wash out the picture on the TV screen. So I went out, got cigs, Coke, and some chicken & chips from the new chip shop down the street. Strange that - no breading on the chicken. Foreigners. Anyway, came back, suffered the usual half-hour of futzing around with my degenerating stereo, and finally settled back to start watching some of the 2nd season Buffy tapes that Sean had lent me. I figured I'd watch maybe half of them, or whatever would take me up to 12:30, and then go out for a while.

Only that started to seem less & less likely as I kept going. The stopping-and-going-out part of the plan, I mean. Then I hit Passion, and all other considerations just kind of fell away.

7 AM this morning, I'm watching the end of the credits of the season finale roll by, knowing that no way would they say anything about next season but waiting just in case. For a basically silly TV show, I have to confess I was surprisingly upset. I just hope to Dog I don't have to wait for reruns to start to find out what the hell happened. I don't want to give away too many details, in case any of you haven't seen the shows. Let's just say I really liked Jenny Calendar's character, and that I'm with Xander: Kill the bastard.

So, yeah. 14 hours of TV in a row. My brain's toast. It's awfully quiet.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep. © 1998-1999 Lighthouse for the Deaf. All rights reserved and stuff. The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.