Maybe I've been spoiled by the HBO and Showtime dramas I've watched of late, but CSI and Criminal Minds were so insipid that I meandered off twenty minutes into both episodes. They were both such shameless, lazy filler with flimsy cases and indifferent acting, and in CSI's case, I gave not one single fuck about their girls' weekend gone wrong. Their purportedly close-knit, girlish banter in the locker room was godawful, and I have no idea how it passed muster into the final edit. "Look, we're friends, such good friends, let's have a getaway in Reno and get pampered and laid! Kewlies!" Gag.
With that final grump, I'm going to vegetate and get ready for Turkey Day tomorrow.
I'm still curled tightly inside my non-communicative shell. I've started Stephen King's Doctor Sleep and watched seven episodes of Sons of Anarchy S5. The latter is amazing, by the by, despite the series' frequent reliance on plot contrivance and convenient stupidity. I want a Chibbs of my own, and I still love Nero Padilla.
Roomie received a belated birthday gift from his dad today, so he went an an Amazon spree and ordered a buttload of DVDs and CDs. In his family, there is the concept of the sharing gift, which means that at least one gift should be something others can enjoy, too. So he bought me a Karl Urban suspense movie. Bweee!