So we found out this week that our company is up for sale. We had to cover the story for the first two days, so I just concentrated on that. But then that night, I had this dream that a bunch of men broke into our apartment, and I'm walking down the hallway and they start filing out of our guest bedroom and they're middle-aged white men in dumpy business casual and they're coming for me and they're not violent but still they are vaguely menacing and they're walking steadily toward me and I'm thinking maybe I'll throw myself down the stairs and they keep coming and I think maybe I might take one of them down there with me. Anyway, then I woke up and I just figured it was because Jeffrey and I are in full-on "Wire" mode.
But then Luis pointed out to me that I've been pissed. I didn't even know. I'm irritable and insecure-dreaming and pissed and sad and I don't even know what.
Why has shit got to change? Funyuns, I swear to God, are not made the same way they once were. The makers of Jeffrey's favorite deodorant -- one he drives across town to find -- have changed its formula. And "The Wire," though a really good sophisticated blue tone, is just not my "Homicide: Life on the Street," which is rough and sandy-colored and carried me through some very hard years.
Intellectually, I know not all change is bad. I'll come around. But I gotta deal first. And I really wish everyone else would, too. But not everyone is lucky enough to have a Luis to bring it out after a night of pissiness.
So here's how I'm dealing: I'm drowning myself in "Sports Night." It's witty and happy and comfortable and they get sold to a cute multibillionaire who protects them and everything ends well.
And of course, there are those second-rate Funyuns.