It's a quiet night here in AZ. Boyfriend is downstairs, doing whatever. Dogs are in their crates, pouting. There was an unfortunate incident with the bathroom trash can that resulted in Atticus getting sent to bed early. Spike is pouting because he missed out on the fun. So I'm sitting here with my foot elevated (ant bite again) and reflecting. On flannel and indifference.

Let me back up. I've been renting My So-Called Life from Netflix to show Boyfriend how real and well-developed the hit show was. So what if it was only on for one season. So what if they all look like lumberjacks. It's just the best show ever. Okay, not really. But I really identified with it.

I tried to explain how much flannel was worn during this period. I offered commentary as the episodes played; explaining the fashion (he didn't care), the sentences that faded off and were never finished (still didn't care), analyzing the decor (wallpaper, paint, flowered curtains, starving artist painting, and bead board - all in ONE BATHROOM), and the use of the word "like".

Even on my best day I don't think I could cram in that many likes. We considered making it a drinking game but realized that a) I don't drink and b) The word is used so many times it would take a mere minute to hit the floor.

Now I realize that this has been completely random, but that's okay. I realize that no one cares. That's okay, too. You see, teenagers in the nineties wrote the book on random. Plus, it was cool not to care.

Like, whatever.

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