I love doing nothing. I love doing nothing so much, that when I get the chance to do nothing, I grab it immediately, even if there is something I should be doing. Like, returning the boots I bought 3 months ago on Zappos. I printed out the mailing label at work a few weeks ago, but because of their 365-day return policy, I don’t see how I’m possibly going to return them any sooner than the 364th available day. That’s just how I roll.
This is also why Seinfeld is my favorite TV show. A show about nothing? Jerry obviously stole my identity. And we’re obviously meant to be man and wife. Damn you Jessica Seinfeld. Damn you and your cookbook of recipes that contain with healthy purees (which I own). You may or may not know that the only episodes of Seinfeld that I do not re-watch are the two episodes that comprise the series finale (and the Puerto Rican Day Parade episode, because it’s not replayed on TV) because I like to pretend that the series never ended. Sad but true. I have a friend who doesn’t watch the last 15 minutes of Moulin Rouge because he likes to pretend that Nicole Kidman doesn’t die and she and Ewan McGregor live happily ever after. It’s a similar concept.
So last Saturday, I had some big plans to do nothing. Usually I don’t plan on doing nothing, it just happens. But starting on like Wednesday I was telling people left and right that my Saturday game plan was to lay in bed hung over (which I usually do anyway) and to catch up on the 5+ episodes of Grey’s Anatomy that I’ve missed in preparation for the season finale that airs tonight.
I ended up not being very hung over at all, I could have totally gone to the post office to mail my boots back to Zappos, maybe get a manicure and/or pedicure so my digits don’t look like a homeless person’s. But no. I had already made plans with myself, my bed and my DVR, and although I break plans with people on a semi-regular basis, my bed and DVR are far more important to me than any friendship or family member. Sorry.
And then I had one of the best bbm conversations I have ever had.
Friend: The boys are having a Monster Mash today. The only thing is it’s some sort of pool party and I have already consumed Pringles, ice cream and Oreos. [please note this conversation occurred at 11am]
Friend: What are you doing today?
Me: Catching up on Grey’s while laying in bed.
Friend: Ugh, book yourself a room in Crytown.
Me: I know. I like crying though. Especially at the misfortunes of others.
Friend: I don’t cry at their misfortunes. I cry because they are in love and I am fat.
Friend: I cry because they are in love and I am going to be having sex with my sister for the rest of my life.
And then said friend proceeded to get wasted at a party and make out with a boy who in uncomfortably obsessed with her all day long. Amazing.
Back to Grey’s Anatomy and my day of nothing. I cry in every episode of Grey’s Anatomy, no matter how bad it is (and there are some BAD eps). Don’t even get me started on the three-episode series that had us “thinking” Meredith was going to die. I’m sorry, you’re not going to kill off the main character of your show, especially when the show title has her name in it, so don’t even pretend like you might. It’s rude and it insults my intelligence. Yeah, YOU HEAR ME SHONDA RHIMES!?!?
What I really hate about Grey’s is the writing. The writing is horrible. No one talks like that. My favorite example of this is from the end of season 2 when Meredith has to choose between McDreamy and Chris O’Donnell. She’s arguing with McDreamy directly before she’s about to have one of my top 5 favorite made for television sex scenes (number one is from an episode of Scrubs between Elliot and JD). Anyway: Meredith says “Finn has plan. And you’re looking at me. Stop looking at me.” And Meredith and McDreamy say the word “looking” twenty times in less than a minute. Take a gander for yourself:
People don’t talk like that. They just don’t. But the scene is still amazing somehow. I just got all hot and bothered watching it. WHO is the editor for this?! I will pay him/her to make a sex scene of me, and it will be hot and steamy and coordinated to music like this one instead of just really really awkward. And then there's other weirdness about Grey's, like how they wrote out Burke as soon as he got a bad wrap for being homophobic, and now they're writing out Katherine Heigl because she blamed the writers for not getting her a second Emmy. News flash Katherine Heigl: It is a BIZARRE bizarre twist of fate that you even won that. I'm personally convinced that two other nominees split the votes, resulting in what I like to call the Ralph Nader effect, allowing Heigl to walk away with an Emmy (like how George Bush walked away with the Presidency) that she didn't come anywhere close to deserving. You're not the only blonde that can cry on camera Heigl, get over yourself. And I don't like Ellen Pompeo either. I'm such a hater right now. Don't care.
But Grey’s redeeming quality, other than the sobfest that comes with every episode, is the music. As far as I’m concerned, Grey’s made Snow Patrol popular. And by popular I mean they’ve only had one popular song, but if you listen to their stuff, it’s AMAZING (if you need some recommendations I give you “Hands Open”, “Chocolate”, “Run”, “You Could Be Happy”.). And it will make you cry. And you will love it.
I originally started to write about nothing but then got into a tirade about Grey’s. That’ll happen. So instead of doing something on this Thursday evening, take a page out of my book and do nothing (I’ll be in class until 10, blatantly not following the advice I just gave). Watch Grey’s instead of socializing with other human beings. Cry at their hot sex and their terminal illnesses while you sit alone in your apartment on a Thursday night. And most importantly, don’t forget to book a room in Crytown.