A Desperate Reminder

Oh, hello. Can you guess what I am watching at this very moment--as I type this very post? Desperate Housewives, of course. What else? I really don't know what my current tally is now, how many times I watched this particular episode, for instance. Three, most likely four? Anyway, I am still engrossed by this fantastic show, simply captivated by it. Right now, a whole lot is going on, in case you would be interested in knowing. Edie is blackmailing Carlos by exchanging a reluctant and unwanted engagement for the security of his financial secrets; moreover, Carlos is having an affair with his ex-wife, Gaby, who is newly married to the mayor of Fairview, Victor Lang. Lynette has cancer, which is truly a sickening display from beginning to end, from her alien baldness to her victimized coughing and complaints of "Oh, I'm so ill, yet strong as an ox." (She is neither of the two.) Another sickening display is Susan's cliched pregnancy antics, which include an exaggerated increase in hormones, as well as her overall irritating personality, and the oh-so-funny food cravings and breast enlargement. Yeah, they look just like a pair of melons. The still-lovely Bree Hodge (it's Hodge for now) is faking a pregnancy to cover her promiscuous daughter's secret, which is just so wonderful of her. What's equally wonderful is her darling husband, Orson, who supports her completely in every decision she makes, as well as adores her throughout. Of course, we all know that Bree will return the favor of adoration when she forces him to serve his sentence in prison for running over Mike at the end of the second season--thanks to that hormonal beast called Susan Mayer. (This happens later, but Orson is sincerely remorseful of what he did, considering all that's occurred with his demented mother and all. Why must Mike be honest with his wife?) Lastly, there is the intriguing mystery surrounding Katherine Mayfair, who returns to Wisteria Lane following a scandal that happened involving her husband in Chicago; she is, as expected, secretive about her hidden history which includes her ex-husband and daughter. It is truly remarkable that I am still willing--more than that, pleased--to be watching this soapy dramedy, even after three or four times. Knowing what exactly will happen through the array of events unfolding on Wisteria Lane, and still wanting to watch it during dinner or whenever I have nothing else to do, is a work of utter brilliance. I hate to say it, but, bravo Marc Cherry. Even though your ruined the show by killing off Edie and bringing in dull "mysteries" including Angie Bolen and Renee Perry. Oh, I'm sorry, Renee was brought in to fill in the void of Edie's vicious, sexy character. That turned out just swell, too. (Not really.) Anyway, the whole point of this post, other than to inform you all that I am, indeed, still hooked on Desperate Housewives, even after its finale last year, is to recite a poem I wrote about my sick obsession. As you all know, not all poems have to rhyme.

A Desperate Poem
I am obsessed with Desperate Housewives.
I wonder why characters think the woods is the best place to cover up secrets--oh, Mike.
I hear Mary Alice Young's voice narrating each episode.
I see the idyllic Wisteria Lane as the background for the drama of the residents.
I am obsessed with Desperate Housewives.
I pretend to see past the error of Bree Van de Kamp, as she sends her husband, Orson, to prison.
I feel remorse towards Edie Britt as her electrocution approaches.
I touch my veins anxiously, sensing that the season is reaching its end.
I worry about Mike Delfino, since he is married to that crazy klutz, Susan Mayer.
I cry when Orson Hodge transforms into a creepy, handicapped kleptomaniac.
I am obsessed with Desperate Housewives.
I understand why Katherine Mayfair adopted a little girl who resembles her own daughter, who had an accidental tragic death. Her regret is chillingly and poignantly believable.
I say obscene comments when Lynette Scavo acts undeservedly self-righteous.
I dream about the steamy affair between Gabrielle Solis and her teenage gardener--and then another affair with her first husband, Carlos Solis.
I try to enjoy the show, even when it degrades in quality.
I hope that the Housewives will return on the big screen, as the Sex and the City ladies did.
I am obsessed with Desperate Housewives.

Was it a pleasant read? I certainly hope so. That is all I have to write about, for now, ladies and gentlemen. But I will say a final thought or two. The later seasons of Seinfeld (another show I am obsessed with--I hope this isn't disorienting) are deemed to be the worst of the series. To that, I object vehemently, as they may be the finest of the entire series. Every episode is equal to the other, as the show is sensational from beginning to end. Particularly, I love episodes such as The Dealership and The Betrayal. That's my humble opinion, as well as the opinion of my dad's, and that is all that matters, correct? Absolutely. And, another thought: Chinese take-out is delicious, so there should be no harm in ordering more than once a week.