I've been watching the Who's the Boss marathon on Nick at Nite this evening. Yes, that's what I was doing. I'll wait for the laughter to die down. If you think I'm off, why don't you read some of the poetry fans have written? Who's laughing now? Still you, I guess.

The sexual tension between Angela and Tony is unfreakingbelieveable! You could cut it with a knife! A hot, sexy, Italian knife! And how long did it go on for? Eight freaking seaons?! We must have been a nation with blue balls. I mean, the buildup is unbearable. At this point in the marathon, Tony and Angela have not properly consumated their love. There was a drunken (although quite sexy and hot) kiss in the kitchen after a hot and sexy flour fight. And they had to share a hotel room, stolen (although appropriately acknowledged) directly from It Happened One Night (a movie I copped one of my favorite haircuts from, by the way). Fortunately, the marathon has come to a close for the evening. I know I would have stayed up far too late if it continued. I want them do it! I want them to do it ever so bad!

It resumes again in what I'm sure will be an agonizing twenty-one hours. So tonight, at 9pm, you know right where I'll be. Don't call, I won't answer.