Mommy with a Penis

I feel sorry for my husband. He is slogging through the series finale of The L Word . I saw the train wreck last night and wished the episode had a warning: You will never get this hour back . EVER! On the whole, I love series finales. They give the creators and writers leeway to wrap up their creations in their own unique, pretty pink bow. And there have been some doozies , Six Feet Under and The Sopranos come to mind . And let's not forget Newhart , when Bob Newhart woke up in the arms of Suzanne Pleshette , his TV wife from his previous show. Turned out his Vermont existence as the owner of the Stratford Inn was a horrific dream. If only someone told me The L Word was the same. Unlike Newhart , which used wit and humor to tell its final moments, The L Word was a mishmash of storylines , many left open ended, most noticeably the plot they splashed across their own ad campaigns, "Who killed Jenny Schecter ?" This publicity carries with it various unwritten promis...

I haven't written about my addiction. Serial television. Doesn't matter what it is: espionage, vampires or those desperate gals on Wisteria Lane searching for season two glory, I cannot seem to get enough. And even though it's a Wonder Bread world, where the "gay" act straight, the "old" are gorgeously fit, and the occasional "black" is played by Taye Diggs, I am a lemming who will gladly follow. All I need is the challenge, same bat time, same bat channel , and I will strap on a tourniquet, pump up my vein and shoot up with juicy anticipation for the following week's unending plot points. This addiction hearkens back to the eighties, when I was introduced to that quartet of guilty pleasure: Dallas , Dynasty , Knots Landing and Falcon Crest . (I can still hum all their theme songs beginning to end.) And it didn't matter the backdrop, vineyard, oil field, cul de sac, all that was needed was a fertile environment for good to battle evil....