So after watching "Tell Me You Love Me," which we'll tell you we really, really love (more below), we went to bed at 10. We read the Bible (Matthew 6:34, bitches: "Let the days own trouble be sufficient for the day") to gather our thoughts, and then we meditated in the dark.
We slept more than eight hours and dreamed, in order: 1) that the Eagles faked a 78-yard field goal to win a game (Donovan hit our boy KC for 40 yards, and then threw a game-tying touchdown on the same drive a second later); 2) that we were golfing with the ol' man's ol' man sans clubs; and 3) we were lounging in a faceless, nameless woman's bed, waiting patiently for her to fall in love with us.
Ah. Like you need interpretations.
1. Eagles. Winning. Big. We're still not cheering them next week in the Meadowlands, and no, we still won't be hosting a party or cheering them on. Remember: OMS, cheering = Eagles/Phillies losing. Period.
2. We hunt with the ol' man sans loaded gun, so maybe he was getting even.
3. Love. We'll find it again someday, right?
So about the Tell Me You Love Me on the HBO.
It's not getting raved about in blogs. It's not just about graphic (i.e. balls) sex scenes. It's about four couples and their all-too-real life ups and downs. It's about being self-centered and lost in breakups, it's about loving but not sexing, and it's about trying to have babies when the pressure takes all the fun and success out of it.
In other words, it's dark. And we love dark.
Check it out before that sh*t gets canceled.
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