My little guy broke free from the line and ran to us as soon as he saw us. I pumped my fist into the air and started shouting “Donna Martin graduates! Donna Martin graduates!”
My husband rolled his eyes and fixed me with his usual “Quit showing off” look. My son beamed with pride, because even though he had no idea what I was talking about, he figured it was about him and his graduation, which it pretty much was…in a roundabout, nostalgic way.
My dad, however, was totally clueless. He looked at me quizzically. “What is that? That Donna Martin graduates thing? It’s something nasty?”
“No!” I shouted. “Why would it--? Why does it always have to be--? UGH. Never mind.”
I’ve ordered him Netflix for next month. I’ll cancel it as soon as I’ve made sure he’s watched all 23,000 episodes of 90210. While I’m at it, I’m going to have him over for a little True Tori, which is totally my new addiction.
Speaking of which, last night’s episode had me bawling, and it wasn’t (purely) because of the unfortunate comparisons that I’ve had to Tori all my life. I swear, the only things she and I have in common are our strawlike yellow hair and our tendency of looking for love in all the wrong places—but try telling that to your two best friends when they’re in the mood to be assholes.
Anyway, I’d been on my way to bed and thought, Oh, look, there’s the couch and the remote; I’ll just plop down here for a second and watch a few minutes of one of my DVR’d shows.
Fifteen minutes later, I was sucked in, a blubbering mess. I wanted to make fun of myself for crying over Tori Spelling’s broken relationship, but I couldn’t, as I was too busy trying to find a Kleenex to wipe away my tears.
Sweet Jesus, what is happening to me?