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My Epidemic

I'm smiling. That alone should scare you.


He's a mammoth. A friggin' mammoth!

For Xmas I received the 4th season of Scrubs. This was both good (It kept me busy for 3days straight) and bad (I've begun narrating my life in my head).

At first it was little things. Like standing in the chaos of the Day After Xmas sales and watching my mom wrestle other middle-aged women for snowman wrapping paper or little dangling snowflake ornaments with our names on it, and describing my mother's tenacity with a warm fondness. Or watching Boyfriend booty dance in Walmart with a mixture of irritation and humor, and trying to define love. But then it all came to a head when the other night I was making dinner and watching Ice Age 2: The Meltdown.

As you might of guessed from previous blogs I love cartoons. Love them. And as improbable as they sometimes are (A green boy that can change into animals at will? Fantastico!) I sometimes find myself unreasonably angered by the smallest things. For example in The Meltdown, Manny the Mammoth is in search of others of his kind b/c he fears he's the last giant, hairy elephant thing. But alas! He finds himself a pretty little female mammoth with the voice of Queen Latifah and falls in love. But that's not all. When she becomes caught in a quickly submerging cave o' death (Long story), Manny comes to the rescue. He swims, I repeat swims to her aid while fighting off two giant crocodile-looking things and manages to pull her out of the cave, swim to the surface and tug her to safety.

I glared at the tv in anger, a piece of rotini half-way to my mouth. How the hell was the mammoth swimming with another mammoth securely tucked under one arm? What the hell?! Then I realized not only was I unreasonably upset at the creators of Manny and his motley crew, but I was narrating my anger in my head! I was making arguments against the chances of a mammoth, covered in thick arctic fur, swimming to safety with not only his own fat to carry but also the fat of another. And how was he holding her?

The growing amount of arguments in my head circled and paced in rage. Taking on a life of their own. And a voice of their own as well! Not my voice. No. Not mine. JD's. JD from Scrubs was in my head and bitching relentlessly about the improbability of a mammoth life-guarding another in the impending meltdown that was the end of an iceage.

And so, I've taken a break from Scrubs. Instead investing myself securely in the culinary drama that is, Top Chef.

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