Poker Faces & Eye Closeups

Pens, we need pens. My ideas just come to me. I'm brainstorming.

Sometime in the early autumn, this bumbling new mama was trying to do many things. Bathe a slippery baby. Not obsess about slippery baby’s state of consciousness during sleep. A plethora of things having to do with quiet and timing and patience. Also, I was trying to learn the beginning part of that newly-released Gaga joint “Bad Romance.” Lack of sleep and a colicky bundle were not going to stop me from this little pleasure of life. I’ve been learning tricky song lyrics since the fast part of Mariah Carey’s “Someday” and I wasn’t going to stop now.

Around this same time, I heard about a show called Glee. Friends and family were horrified that I hadn’t seen one episode, the fact having shaken their worlds, apparently. I was busy. I was still conspiracy-theorizing in the way of Lost. I was really, truly trying to accept the redux of Scrubs. I was almost ready to break up with Grey’s Anatomy. Oh, and that new adorable baby who ate all the time and my constant need to journal every tiny coo. I had a lot on my plate.

So, no, I was not watching that Fox show about a high school choir starring an over-the-top-type-A-drama-queen with ambiguous Middle Eastern-Hispanic looks and a penchant for cardigans. She makes “I’m Sorry” cookies. I…don’t…do…that.

Needless to say, I started watching and I haven’t looked back.

Now, anyone that knows me knows I’m obsessed with film and tv casting. I feel I missed my calling. I’m very critical of bad casting and in awe of pitch-perfect casting. I saw Miss Rachel Berry had a clear mother void and my brain got to work.

Idina Menzel was on my mind because, like me, she had a superadorable baby boy on September 2nd and since I learned “Over the Moon” from Rent and sang it up and down the halls of my dorm to work on my projection, I figured we’re the same.  She was the perfect Rachel mom.

And then, my brain spun out of control. I wanted a duet. I wanted many duets! I wanted a joyous union of voices from these two almost-twins. I even cast Rachel’s aunts (Nelly Furtado and Courteney Cox) because my brainstorming goes on tangents.

So, I called it. I swear I didn’t read the message boards! I was busy, I said.

So, come Tuesday and I felt like one of my silly little mini-dreams had come true. The addition of Gaga was just an added gold star from the music gods.

In related news, Lost ended. Not how I imagined or wanted, but how I figured. Lost was like that guy you hook up with (the old definition, not the new one, dirty birdies) because they’re mysterious and beautiful and every day you learn something new and you think “This will never get old.” And then you see the direction he’s going and you wonder “Was he always like this? Did he change or did I?” And then he gives you this one day where everything is amazing again and you don’t even mind that you had to hang out with his Spanish friend who sees dead people; you’re in love. And then you’re going down that familiar path again and all turns clear despite all the smoke. You know this will end like past loves did- McBeal, Seinfeld. You just know it. And it does. And you’re fine with it because you saw it coming. And by fine, I mean, you were fine with it by the Thursday after it ended. And that’s when you promise to stop beginning sentences with conjunctions. Because that’s wrong. Okay, starting now.

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