Dear Sanctuary writers & cast

(except you, Amanda Tapping who I would follow to the ends of the earth).

This last episode, "Pavor Nacturnus," is an example of why it's hard to support you.

Let's be honest, it was your wannabe "Epitaph One." But you are not a Whedon and it just came off cheesy. Mostly because Robin (don't worry you're still bang-able) with his mullet seemed to be channeling the mirror Middleman in "The Palindrome Reversal Palindrome."

P.S. I love you, Robin Dunne, but you're no Matt Keeslar.

My stuff came! Yay!

Watching Dollhouse DVDs in the comfort of my !!**no longer empty**!! apartment it occurs to me that it's tough to be a geek girl--watching the episode The Target, I'm not so frightened by the idea of Matt Keeslar's character playing "the most dangerous game," but rather thinking, "I would let Matt Keeslar chase me through the wilderness and kill me. That might be a nice way to die." Sick, I know.

Finally have a bed to sleep on, forks to eat with, books to read, and a couch to sit on (etc). Slept for hOuRs last night in the joy of pillow-top goodness. Now it just needs to be unpacked (anybody have the # for magic unpacking elves?) and my Ikea desk needs to arrive... and then I have to put it together. Such is nesting...

Hee, hee--towards the end of Stage Fright the paramedic says "He's cyanotic." And automatically, I think of Simon... and the faux EMTs... it's a Whedon-Pavlovian response.