Rain. Rain rain lots of rain. Last night I talked to Mom, who was complaining about how hot it is in LA. No sympathy! None! I am so tired of the rain and the cold and also the rain. And, when it is warm, the pollen and the allergies. I want warmth and sun and no sneezing, is that too much to ask?

Maybe if it ever stops raining I can bury the cat.

Sunday night is the best TV night of the week. Alias! Cold Case! Law and Order: CI! And now, The Practice! Speaking of, by the way, I have never ever ever seen anything as powerfully sexual on network television than James Spader on The Practice last night.

I've loved him for years, he appeals to my inner masochist (slightly threatening, slightly sadistic, makes you want to heal his inner pain), Secretary is one of my favourite films of all time, why on earth didn't I start watching this show until I was home with Mom and she made me because it is her favourite show?

Possibly because I tried to watch the old version of the show with Derwood McDerwood, but my eyes just slid off of it without sticking. Apparently I forgot that old slightly-sadistic-sex-on-a-stick Spader would make it a more interesting show even if that character he played were comatose.

Last night that "Slap my face, Hannah" scene with Rebecca DeMornay was so burning blazing hotly hot it just about made me slide out of my chair. I can't wait until next season when it's totally his show. I. Can't. Wait.

Not to mention that a line like "You know how two people can sometimes make each other more whole? That doesn't happen with me," will do nothing on this earth but make a woman want to be the one to make it happen. Take note, boys.

I don't think I have ever once watched an episode of Cold Case without bawling at the end. It's like flipping a switch.

It's always the same, they play a song and in slightly slow motion, Kate and the other police officers lead the prisoner away and you see everybody who has been in the show one by one, both young and older, and then you see the dead person one more time, and then he or she disappears, finally avenged.

Now obviously, that's a tear-jerker waiting to happen, but it's really genuinely affecting, it's not false or soppy. I'm not certain what it is that makes me cry so much--I mean, the music that they play has something to do with it, and the fact that justice has been served, but I really think what it is is seeing the characters both old and young.

The casting in this show is so excellent, they really do a great job of finding two actors that look enough alike that you almost believe that it's the same person, so seeing them younger and older is horribly sad.

Maybe this has something to do with turning 40 in four months (dear God, four months??!!) and realizing that growing older is happening to me as well, but seeing young photographs of old people makes me incredibly sad. Something about the loss of future, youth having all this potential which either gets realized or doesn't.

It's kind of hard to explain.

This new show on A&E, Family Plots, is absolutely tee-riffic. Hilarious and irreverent, but never with any attitude less than respectful towards the deceased and their families. Not to mention the fact that they brilliantly use Squirrel Nut Zippers' Hell as the theme song!

Frankly, and it could have gone either way, I've seen four episodes and I would totally take my dead relative to these guys.

Today's horoscope:
A friend may try to mother you, and you won't argue -- but the shoe may be on the other foot, too. Either way, you two might need some refreshments at some point. Consider comfort food first.

One year ago today:
And today I will see him at last. I may have to restrain myself from diving down his throat so that I can live inside of him.

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Last Updated Mon 26 April 22:09:09 2004