I’ve made a mistake. Quite possibly a huge one.

I’ve started watching Grey’s Anatomy. I rented the first season, and while it was somewhat entertaining, I wasn’t hooked. Then I rented the second season, and I can hardly think of doing anything else besides going home and watching the next episode. I’ve turned down multiple social engagements to be by myself, curled up in my bed, watching hour after hour of Grey’s. Should I start worrying?

One week, and I’m already a junky. After bowling till midnight last night with The Lucky Strikes, I came home with the last two DVDs of the second season in my hand. “I have to make these last,” I thought to myself. Cause once I had watched them, it was back to regular old television and waiting each week to see the outcome.

So what did I do? I stayed up until 3:45 in the morning last night watching the entire fourth disk. I couldn’t effing stop. I mean the bomb…in the cadaver…Bailey’s husband in brain surgery…Izzie and Alex in the coat closet. Those of you who watch the show know what I’m talking about. There’s a reason these shows win freaking Golden Globes.

Furthermore, I’m starting to live a disillusioned Sexy-in-the-Cityish reality where the characters seem real to me. And I start talking about what’s going on in their life. And what this person did and said today, and the other. I’ll never forget when I was sitting in the waiting room at The Old Spaghetti Factory months ago with Sarah (an obvious SATC fan) and Haley (who’s never seen one episode—a crime really) and Sarah turned to me and said, “Smith Jared shaved his head today for Samantha.” And Haley was like, “Why are you talking about these people like they’re real?”

Why do we talk about fictitious television characters and get so into shows that they start to seem real? I’m not the first girl who likes to think her life is weirdly similar to Sex and the City. Or at least try to live like it. It’s quite pathetic really. That’s right, Paolo, and all the other haters out there. I admitted it.

Perhaps it’s because some TV shows are so farfetched and unrealistic that the sheer preposterousness of it sucks us in. Sort of like Desperate Housewives. Or maybe it’s because it’s a reality that is more exciting than our everyday lives, such as 24 or Lost. Or maybe it’s because the characters are realistic, and portray the relationships that we want, have, hope to have. Like Sex and the City and Grey’s Anatomy. I know that I sometimes wouldn’t mind being able to disassociate myself from feelings like Cristina, I wouldn’t mind being as freakin smart and successful as Meredith or having the camaraderie the interns have at work. And you all know, I certainly wouldn’t mind having my own McDreamy. Or even McSteamy. And until it happens for me, I’m going to continue to obsess over these TV shows and spend my young, 20-something years curled up watching them until 3:45 in the morning instead of hanging out with my friends or actively seeking a love life.

Some one check me into the OR.

Currently Feeling: An incredible overwhelming love for my devil cat. I think it’s unconditional. And I think I’m totally attached. Hell, we made it past the two-month phase…it must be forever.
Currently Anticipating: Bingo tonight and Brett’s birthday party on Saturday.
Currently Loving: That Chuck the Fuck is getting what he deserves.
Currently Obsessed With: No Sugar Added Fudgesicles with Peanut Butter.