television talk

Two years ago I fell in love. No, not with Mark, he had yet to wander into my mind's eye. This was different. It was a love affair with a little place called the pie hole, where fictional people co-habitated and consumed pie, solved murders and undeaded the dead, all occuring under an appropriately shaped pie crust roof. Oversized cherry light fixtures hung over vinyl covered booths, men dressed to the nines in pressed slacks and fitted cardigans, quaint portholes adorned the walls. This was a place from another time that I envied, and wished and wondered what it would be like to be a part of. Sadly, things do not last, not even those that spark imaginations and induce other world fantasies, losing what was offered as a brief chance at escapism. And sigh. After watching the last of the Pushing Daisies episodes I had "legally" (of course) downloaded, I was still craving a quality narrative to slip into after work, before bedtime, on a Monday through Friday basis, to lull my day worn mind into another world. Dexter has filled this void. He's not a total babe like Lee Pace (sorry Michael C. Hall, you look like this guy I see at Starbucks, it's weird), but he's charming in that serial killer slash do-gooder kind of way. At four episodes in, and with three full seasons to delve into and lose myself for 52 minutes at a time, my need for a mental diversion has been satisfied, at least for now.