So I'm not sure about these recaps.
I'm fine posting them, but they're so f'ing long and their fat asses are taking up all the space in this blog. We've all been here for some time now, and we have a nice little thing going, and suddenly these recaps barge in like they own the place. I'm not going to stop them, I'm just saying.
Anyway, I was all poised to write a whole inane rant about people repeating things I say over the phone to the people in the room with them, but I'm going to put that on hold. Why? Because a topic far more pressing has suddenly presented itself.
The fact that I'm having a hard time writing at the moment, because I'm being distracted by a bug.
Yes, I'm sitting in my office, and I'm having trouble concentrating, because of a single bug. Indeed, this building—in addition to being the workplace of a tutoring company, a bathing suit designer, VH1's Best Week Ever, a graphic designer, a marketing agency, and the hot girl with the bandana down the hall who torments me so—seems to be the home of a local cricket.
And so, as the shrill chirp of a sole cricket hideously penetrates the airwaves, my ears, my mind, and my soul, I've called an audible. This entry will be about the situation at hand.
Now, a chorus of crickets chirping outside: kind of nice, and breaks up what would be an eerie silence. A single cricket chirping inside: really annoying.
And Buster's a devious little dude (I've named him Buster). He's out in the kitchen somewhere, but every time I walk in there, no matter how quiet I am, he stops chirping and I can't find him. Plus, if I do find him, I'll become frightened because crickets are underratedly scary-looking. All of this Jimeny/Mulan bullshit has made people forget that crickets are kind of scary-looking and look like small cockroaches. So, at the moment, the cricket is winning this battle of wits, and I'm left sitting here, helpless, distracted by a bug.
The worst part is that the reason he's distracting me is to attract a mate—a cricket's chirp is a mating call. Little Buster is trying to get laid. But the thing is, none of the lady crickets can hear him, because all the other crickets are outside, where crickets are supposed to be. So Buster's chirping in an empty kitchen and it's all for naught. That would be like me walking into an empty room and saying, "Hey, what's your name? You lookin mighty fine tonight." And then saying that again and again, even though no one's there. Buster's spitting all the game he can muster, but there's no one around except me, and frankly I'm not interested.
Part of me feels for Buster. Lord knows I've been there. But you have to be honest with yourself, and when something's not working—well, you gotta move on. There is good reason to believe, though, that he may remain in the kitchen chirping for quite some time. Unfortunately, Buster's going to have to learn the hard way that being a young, single guy in Los Angeles is not necessarily all it's cracked up to be.
And with that, I'll let you go. Once again, it'll just be me here.
Me and Buster.
I'm fine posting them, but they're so f'ing long and their fat asses are taking up all the space in this blog. We've all been here for some time now, and we have a nice little thing going, and suddenly these recaps barge in like they own the place. I'm not going to stop them, I'm just saying.
Anyway, I was all poised to write a whole inane rant about people repeating things I say over the phone to the people in the room with them, but I'm going to put that on hold. Why? Because a topic far more pressing has suddenly presented itself.
The fact that I'm having a hard time writing at the moment, because I'm being distracted by a bug.
Yes, I'm sitting in my office, and I'm having trouble concentrating, because of a single bug. Indeed, this building—in addition to being the workplace of a tutoring company, a bathing suit designer, VH1's Best Week Ever, a graphic designer, a marketing agency, and the hot girl with the bandana down the hall who torments me so—seems to be the home of a local cricket.
And so, as the shrill chirp of a sole cricket hideously penetrates the airwaves, my ears, my mind, and my soul, I've called an audible. This entry will be about the situation at hand.
Now, a chorus of crickets chirping outside: kind of nice, and breaks up what would be an eerie silence. A single cricket chirping inside: really annoying.
And Buster's a devious little dude (I've named him Buster). He's out in the kitchen somewhere, but every time I walk in there, no matter how quiet I am, he stops chirping and I can't find him. Plus, if I do find him, I'll become frightened because crickets are underratedly scary-looking. All of this Jimeny/Mulan bullshit has made people forget that crickets are kind of scary-looking and look like small cockroaches. So, at the moment, the cricket is winning this battle of wits, and I'm left sitting here, helpless, distracted by a bug.
The worst part is that the reason he's distracting me is to attract a mate—a cricket's chirp is a mating call. Little Buster is trying to get laid. But the thing is, none of the lady crickets can hear him, because all the other crickets are outside, where crickets are supposed to be. So Buster's chirping in an empty kitchen and it's all for naught. That would be like me walking into an empty room and saying, "Hey, what's your name? You lookin mighty fine tonight." And then saying that again and again, even though no one's there. Buster's spitting all the game he can muster, but there's no one around except me, and frankly I'm not interested.
Part of me feels for Buster. Lord knows I've been there. But you have to be honest with yourself, and when something's not working—well, you gotta move on. There is good reason to believe, though, that he may remain in the kitchen chirping for quite some time. Unfortunately, Buster's going to have to learn the hard way that being a young, single guy in Los Angeles is not necessarily all it's cracked up to be.
And with that, I'll let you go. Once again, it'll just be me here.
Me and Buster.
10 comments:
hilarious
Ya have to feel bad for poor lil Buster. He just wants a girlfriend, he just wants love, Tim.
Awww poor little guy- she's out there somewhere.
only you could make a cricket stuck in an office kitchen an extremely enjoyable read.
Can't you just splurge for one of those plastic "cindy" crickets with the lifelike antennae and interactive voice modulators. Why don't you come on up here and see me sometime buster kind of thing. Just a thought.
Wow Tim! I'd be the same way. When it's around 11:00pm, my mom will come in my room to "check" on me, and my hamster will just STOP running in his wheel. It's really loud, but I think he's afriad of my mom.. HA
Anyways, keep up the blogs. They're very good. And I always look forward to reading them.
Hope you found buster...i so remember growing up in the midwest and hearing those damn things night after night.. we don't have them here in Miami! I love reading your posts about the show and your insights. Yep, some of the things you mentioned, I wondered about and now I know just how much editing is done. Do they film you when you sleep at night?
keep up the recaps, tim, i love them!
Hi Tim! Keep up the recaps. I love them, I look forward to them every week. How is Nicole doing?
the recaps are completely fascinating to me, and I only watched about half the season. I look forward to reading them each week on Monday morning when I should be typing.
One way to shorten the length of your blog page and the amount of time to load it is to set the number of posts you want to show at a time (the user can always click on 'Previous Posts' on the navgation bar on the right). You can go to Settings -> Formatting and then in the first thing there, you can set it to show how ever many posts you'd like.
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