Wednesday, January 14, 2004

As a kid, I had a hard time separating between television and real-life. And I don't mean in some dorky "All our lives are a narrative!" business. I'm saying the wall separating TV and reality was broken down.

For instance, I thought "The Facts of Life" girls lived in an apartment a few blocks from my house. I'd drive by it with my mom and each time I'd see it, I'd imagine the girls inside - not doing anything particularly sitcom-y, but just... you know, hanging out. Maybe eating. Maybe talking.

I'd like to think I grew out of this, but...

A few hours ago, I was talking to a couple of friends about "Full House" and I was sharing how sometimes I imagine myself as a cast member on the show and I think about how I'd deliver certain lines and give a certain performance.

Granted, it's not the same as thinking that a television character lives next-door to you, but it's not too far from it either.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to pretend this bag of sugar is my baby. It's a zany scheme devised by my intruding neighbor. Later, I will give birth to it in a stuck elevator.

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