OC marathon

"I don't hate DE-BU-TANTES!!"

- Steve Gold (Tom Hanks) in "Punchline"

bloody blockbuster have become drug pushers.

Mr. and young ms. squarepeg visit the BB several times a week, neither of them being especially avid readers, and last week came home with BB's free taste of the OC -- the first 4 episodes of season one, free with any movie rental. Seems Israel just wasn't that aware of it, so they needed to prime the pump a little.

Having for the past two years studiously avoided entrapment by that particular soap opera -- in more or less the same way I try to avoid McD's fries -- I was determined not to even get caught in the same room with it. Sadly, I do recognize that I am an addictive personality, having over the years become tragically entwined with such tripe as Beverly Hills 90210, Melrose Place, and, lord help me, Dawson's Creek -- every time, I hasten to add, only because Mr. Squarepeg the tv drone watched those shows in our very small apartment, where I could not help noticing what they all have in common: luscious-looking people in lusciously photographed scenery -- irresistible eye candy.

I knew from reading about it that The OC was of the same ilk, and I was damned if I was going to get sucked in. When ms. Squarepeg slipped it into the livingroom dvd player while I was puttering in the kitchen (open plan apt, i.e. essentially the same room), I practically screeched at her to turn it off and never to watch it while I was around.

She of course ignored me, as usual, being almost 13. By the third time I told her to turn it off, it was with glazed eyes and drool falling from my open mouth as I sunk into the couch beside her.

A few days later, she came home with the whole first season -- another 22 episodes. I was no longer fighting the need for the fix, and convinced myself that this was the best quality mother-daughter time we'd enjoyed in months. At 45 minutes per episode, I have been in an OC-induced stupor for much of whatever time I wasn't at work for the past several days. Sometimes we mocked the silly screen people ("How 'bout some more pills with that vodka, Marissa?") and laughed until the kid wheezed and needed her ventolin puffer, and sometimes she just laughed at me crying over somebody leaving town, but we had fun.

We came to the sobfest ending of season one at about 7 this evening, just before setting out to the in-laws for Shavuot-eve dinner. I was wrung out emotionally, and truly in awe of how I had been so masterfully played.

I just love those characters. Not all of them, of course, but certainly all the Cohens. Especially Peter Gallagher; he's my favorite. We haven't really come so far since the 50s and Father Knows Best, have we? Least favorite is Marissa -- early on I was annoyed with her stupidity. Whereas her evil mother is actually one of the most fun villains I've ever seen.

Well, I suppose I should join some kind of forum for OC addicts, but who's got time? In any case, I'm a season behind anyone else who's been following it. But maybe I have a reader or two who will share the pain with me?