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ARGH!

Oh. My. Lord.

You know how people refer to high school students as little shits? Yeah, well, I'm there. And I feel really guilty about it -- I do. I know they're not at fault. But, damnit, I need someone to blame.

Curses, Band Camp, you hateful, hateful coterie. You with your side lawn practices and unfathomable volume. You with your pulsing beats that shake the walls of my previously peaceful home.

Does the metronome have to be so hellishly loud and blindlingly persistent?

The irony being that even with the *twang twang twang* of said time-keeper throbbing in my brain the precussion section is still offbeat.

Can we just cut our losses and unplug it? For my sanity?

Pretty please with a tuba on top?

(ETA: Um, except Thaddeus. You are exempt. Sadly, your friends are not.)
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Pump It Up

So - I've been working out.

/sigh

Please stop laughing.

I'm serious.

It's true.

Anyway. BootCampBitch -- uh, I mean, my dear dear sister Lauren has put me on a vigorous routine. It started about two months ago, but I'll admit, I wasn't a very good little soldier to start with. I've been known to... uh... er... hide under the bed when BCB was looking for a workout partner. To solve this little problem, master drill sergeant has instituted a new regime -- this one comes complete with punishment.

That's right. If I don't workout six days a week [doom] I have to add an extra 15 minutes onto my next cardio session [/doom].

This may not seem like much, but let me tell you - when the digital display on that stationary bicycle hits 4:59 I'm already internally weeping. You can imagine the horror if I knew I couldn't stop the insanity until it said 45:00. I'd probably cycle myself right off a cliff. (No small feat when the wheels don't touch ground.)

Needless to say, this punishment thing is working. I have yet to skip a day. /beams

So three days a week I'm at the Courthouse Athletic Club humiliating myself by performing girl pushups in front of all the local boys and fifty year old women who do a damn good Jack Palance.

The remaining three days find me in BCB's garage listening to the wit of Tony the VHS workout man. Oh, and let me not forget "the kids" - Paul and Lisa. Lisa, btw looks like Alanis Morisette and punches so lamely that should she wind up toe-to-toe with a four year old, I'd advise her to run for the hills. Paul is simply eye-candy for Lauren. Tony is, well, maybe funny the first time. But let me tell you, the jokes get old after the tenth viewing. You can imagine them now. And every single time he tells me to "suck it up" I lose a little bit of my will to live.

Anyway, I'm doing my 90 days and I actually am seeing results. I'm buff like woah and not afraid to flex for you. Maybe one day I'll do pushups that don't bruise my knees. (Maybe not.) But here's the deal with exercising: It never stops! 90 days. Then what? Then 90 more days! And 90 more! For the rest of my life!?!?! I object. I veto this crap. I will not stand for an existence as excruciating as this. It has to end. You should be able to workout until you get your desired look and then stop, leaving your body exactly how it is. You reach your goal and then you quit, damnit. What's up with this constant maintenance crap? Who invented that?
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The LIST!

In honor of my favorite person in the whole wide world (who doesn't read this blog, so I don't know why I'm bothering to suck up)... I have decided to update The List.

The List was first constructed during my Junior year at Willamette. Inspired by a Friends episode ('cause really, what in life is not just a modified version of something that has been done on television), The List is something that everyone should compose and adhere to his or her front door. This particular list is not to be confused with The Shit List. Luckily, there are multiple colors of post-its.

The funny thing is I don't remember the guys that were on our original lists. I do recall that Thandie Newton was on mine (MI2, people), and -- Faith Hill on Trish's? Maybe? I know her girl was one I was not completely behind, but, hey, it was her list. I bet Tim McGraw was on her list. And some professor. Ha. She'd kill me, she really would.

Anyway. Since I can no longer name the five elite members of my short list, I have decided it is high time to update it. Maybe I'll have it laminated and put in my wallet.

I haven't decided if this is in order or not, so I'm not going to number them. Wouldn't want anyone getting a complex or anything.

*Drumroll*

#1 ~ Joe Flanigan (I know I just got done saying there was no order, but let's be reasonable. Joe is Teh Pretty and we all know it. Numbah one!)
~ Michael Vartan
~ Johnny Depp (Note: This is ONLY pirate Johny. No other form will be accepted.)
~ Timothy Olyphant (Note: Prefer cowboy Tim, but not closed to other variations.)
~ Jamie Bamber (Mmmm... Spaceboys! When exactly did I become a SciFi girl?)

This is actually the second draft of the list I constructed tonight. The first version looked more like:

~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan
~ Joe Flanigan

But, well... then I'd have to move to Canada.
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A Letter

Dear Vaughn,

I don't quite know how to say this. Only one other time in my life have I written a note like this. I was in the sixth grade and I biked to his house, dropped it on the porch and furiously biked away... but that's neither here nor there.

There really is no easy way to say this, so I'll be painfully blunt: I'm breaking up with you.

This is sudden and unexpected, I realize. I do wish things would have worked out between us. They would have, too. That's what makes this so hard. You and I were so good together -- it would have been a lifelong relationship. You, with your green-eyed hotness, feeding me grapes and fanning me as I watch old episodes of Alias. We could have stayed like that forever...

...but with the end of the series came a hole in my heart. A gaping emptiness that needed to be filled -- a feeling that your eye-candy alone would not quell. And so, I looked elsewhere.

That's when I found Stargate: Atlantis. I know, I know -- how cruel and uncharacteristic of me to turn to the SciFi channel! I didn't mean to do it, I swear to you! I don't even know which channel number on cable it is -- but the DVDs were there and I was aching! I popped one in and I lost control.

I know you're thinking that it doesn't have to end things between us -- that you can feed me grapes while I watch Atlantis... but... unfortunately, that's not the end of my betrayal.

I've met someone else. His name is John and he's an Airforce pilot with the spikey hair of a 12 year old boy and a nasty habit of going against orders. I won't sit here gush about him, to you of all people -- I know how this must hurt you. But -- he's made me realize that you and I were just fooling ourselves into believing that life couldn't get any better. It can.

And it will for you, too.

I wish you all the happiness in the world.

Love (but not as much as before because I have to save the majority of it for my Shep),
Allie
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Sign-age Whine-age

I think the person who came up with 'click it or ticket' really had something. It's catchy and to the point. Not that it makes me put my seatbelt on... but I'm sure people less stubborn/lazy than myself have been swayed by the existence of this sign on the side of the road.

Obviously, this creative mind was on vacation when the deadline for the litter campaign came around. 'Litter and it will hurt.' ... whuh? Wth? It will hurt? Is that supposed to imply physical harm? Images of a sign uprooting itself and whacking people upside the head come to mind. A firing squad aiming at a line-up of civilians shouting and pleading, "It was only an apple core! It's biodegradable!"
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All the Time in the World

It’s over… /sniff. Alias is over.

[a moment of silence]

The finale is creating quite a stir in the fandom, and I have to admit I’m pretty much torn. I can’t really put my head around it, I guess… it just seems like a slipshod and hectic way of ending something that had been building for five years – probably because they didn’t know until very late that it was ending at all.

For my own sanity, and to go over this with Lauren – because I know no one else that would read this really gives a hoot – I will delve into the madness that was [drumroll] THE END OF ALIAS.

My initial reaction was, “Aww, how sweet… but they didn’t answer anything!” Don’t get me wrong, if I had to have either answers or Syd/Vaughn shipperness I’d go with the shipperness. So I’m greatful to JJ and the crew for bringing my man back from the dead and giving him a nice little happy ending – I really am. Maybe it’s too much to ask for a little resolution to the plot as well.

Throughout the five seasons of Alias, the writers left themselves with many loose ends to tie up. Each finale we expected answers, and rarely did we get them. It seemed that these plot contrivances were created for convenience and discarded when they no longer had a use, instead of tying them up and moving on. Most of these things were Rambaldi. The only way I have found to make sense of all these problems, like the harvesting of the eggs, is to chalk it up to misinterpretation. I read a post on the forums where the viewer suggested that Rambaldi had always been a mystery, and that the only thing people knew for certain was that he had visions of the future and could create weapons of destruction. So, naturally, those who strove for power and glory attempted to unravel Rambaldi and find a way to harness his creations themselves. So, along the way, people tried to interpret his writings and inventions and made some missteps. Which helps me to believe this: Sydney wasn’t the chosen one. She was “this woman here depicted” but it never really said she was the chosen one. Sloane was the chosen one. (Wrap your head around that.) Sloane and Nadia fought and only one survived. The only thing Sydney did was bring the greatest power unto utter desolation… destroying Irina and the formula for immortality (which was the greatest power?).

So, if we look at it like that, a few more ends are tied and a little bit more makes sense. There are still some things that irk me, however. Like them saying that Sydney lived with Sloane and Emily when she was younger. Um, hello… if they would have kept the same writers throughout the five seasons (or, heaven forbid, made your new writers watch the first two seasons) they would have known that at Emily’s funeral Sydney says something along the lines of “I first met Emily shortly after starting work at Credit Dauphine.” I can try really hard to pretend that Sydney just blocked out that part of her life because it was so damn traumatic… but really? They dropped the ball.

Characterization.

Sydney and Vaughn. Both these characters I felt stayed true to their past behavior. I had no complaints.

Jack. I know people are very, very upset that Jack had to die, but really – he died nobly. He died protecting Sydney from the life he failed to protect her from when she was growing up. It was really very poetic and I was proud of Jack to the end. The only problem… did he really have to die to blow that charge? I mean, did he have to be holding it in his hands? Couldn’t he have thrown it down the hole and detonated it from the top?

Sloane. Sloane was completely in character to the end. The man had always loved the people closest to him, but Rambaldi most of all. In the end, his thirst for immortality and the Rambaldi endgame forced him to make difficult choices and prioritize. Just like he did with Nadia… he picked power over Sydney.

Irina. Yeah, I’ll admit… I’m upset about them making Irina evil. In season two there was all of this mother/daughter stuff that lead the viewers to believe that Irina had a heart somewhere in that chest of hers, and that, though she strove for ultimate power, she would always find a way to put Sydney first. I have a very hard time believing she’d take a cord to her daughter’s neck and try to strangle her. But maybe, as one viewer posted on the boards, this just proves how good Irina really was. She was a master of deception… we all know that. I guess you have to think of those moments where we saw her “good side” come through as times when she was just putting on an act… and successfully misleading the audience, as well as Sydney. And, for her part, she did try to have both. She tried to let Syd have her baby and a family… but that was contingent on Sydney letting her go. Which, of course, she couldn’t.

Sark. I’ll admit… when Vaughn was holding the gun to Sark I thought, “don’t kill him! Please don’t kill him!” I like Sark as a villain. I think in these two episodes he developed a little more of a conscience than he had in the past… but it worked. He was excellent comic relief (“Does it have to be so filthy? If Rambaldi could prophesy the future, he might have advised me not wear 500-dollar shoes” and a sort of comfort to those of us who still cling to the first two seasons. And can I say, the bit in the end about him being behind the next operation… the part where Syd says to Vaughn, “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who let him go.” Crack me up!

Dixon, Marshall… both very in character, and like Sark, a bit of a comfort in these our final hours. I loved that they brought Carrie in. Though she had a relatively small roll in the series she was an integral part and wonderfully captured by the actress. Nice touch.

Francie. Um, pathetic excuse for a “guest star” spot… she was only on screen for all of 15 seconds in a lame (and completely unnecessary) flashback. I wasn’t expecting you to bring her back from the dead, but…wth?

Having said all this, I look back and… maybe I have come to terms with the end of Alias. I admit, I wept like a baby. Or, you know, flipped out and sobbed for a good half hour. It’s sad to see something I’ve invested so much passion into go come to a conclusion. (Even if it is a TV show and all of you who are reading this… if you’re still reading… think I’m certifiably crazy. To those people I say, “go read the boards and see that I’m one of the more sane ones.”)

I have but one complaint that I cannot quietly put away:

WHERE THE HELL WAS WEISS?
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The Fam

Ryan and Allie
Cael | 10
Finn | 8
Declan | 6

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