I need rehab. I need therapy. I need something to stop the endless churning of images of Hugh Laurie in "House" from their 24-hour loop in my brain.
This is why they invented drugs. To stop people from obsessing about the show "House" before it takes over their lives.
It is a recent and overwhelming affliction, my "House"-obsessing. But it has taken total control of my brain, and much like Alcoholics Anonymous makes you first admit you have a problem (I think that's true for any 12-step program...) I'm making a helpless plea to the Gods (that's you, readers) that I find a cure before it overtakes my life and I wind up homeless in a box under the Manhattan Bridge.
I tend towards fatalism at times.
See, here's the thing. Until this season of the show, I never even actually watched it. I had caught a few snippets here and there, but then I decided to record new episodes on my DVR. Which turned into recording new and old episodes on my DVR. It now records any showing on any channel. I have seven saved. See? "House" hoarding? Unhealthy behavior.
("Lost" hording and "Battlestar Galactica" hording, however, are signs of mental health and good taste. Matthew Fox is hot. As is like, every human being that survives the Cylon attack. Why do only really attractive people survive disasters?)
Hugh Laurie is way, way too old for me. I'm closer in age to his children. But I have a very active, highly embarrassing imagination.
I've even (Jen feels the shame washing over her, hoping it gets it out of her system...) I've even come across smutty "House" fan fiction on the Internet, thanks to the awesome yet sometimes misguided power of the Google Search, AND I READ IT.
There now, I feel better.
But really. Can you blame me?