Well, I tell you I had a hectic week: spent some days traveling, some working very late, and others drinking myself into a stupor. At some point, it occurred to me that I'd missed the series finale of "Dawson's Creek." I'd forgoten to TiVo it, or even to buy myself a TiVo. Several days of workin', travelin', and drinkin' later, I sailed right past the series finale of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
But that's okay, because I've also missed every single episode leading up to both. I don't watch that crap. And yet, I feel this nagging, sagging sorrow boiling within me much like an inner sense of boiling sorrow. I will miss the overwhelming omnipresence of Katie Holmes and Sarah Michelle Gellar. Over the last few years, I've watched them grow, and grown with them, thanks to the pages of Maxim, Stuff, FHM, Gear, Esquire, and the New York Post. Also, the talk-show appearances, the awards-show red carpets, the behind-the-scenes promotional infotain-vertisements. Here and there, an oddball movie role. Maybe a cosmetics ad. Or a few thousand Web sites. Also, one rejected marriage proposal each. Numerous court appearances, each of them sitting up in the judge's-bench sidecar, smartly dressed and sexily pointing an index finger at me, saying, "That man, over there, your Honor." Perhaps I've said too much.
Anyway, I think I'm afraid they'll leave me. They'll simply disappear, just like their regularly scheduled prime-time network dramas. Without a regularly scheduled prime-time network drama, the media will forget them, just like it forgot Alyssa Milano post-"Who's the Boss." Sure, she's back now but there were some lonely years inbetween that, frankly, I can't handle right now. And where's Felicity? Where's Maria from "Head of the Class"? Punky Brewster? Daisy Duke? All the girls I've loved before?
The media is fickle, fickle.
And then what? I'll be left alone with nothing but a Sarah Michelle Gellar portrait tattooed on my bicep. And just half a Katie Holmes tattoo on my back, which hardly even seems worth finishing now.
With a little work, I guess what Katie Holmes groundwork is there can be transformed into Charisma Carpenter, but, really, what's the point of that? "Angel" has got maybe a year left. Two, tops. I'd much rather have people see a half-finished portrait and maybe think it's some tribal design than have a completed Charisma Carpenter and have kids come up to me and say, "Who's that lady?"
Well, if there's a lesson to be learned in this sordid little tale, kids, I guess it's this: make sure your tattoo artist and/or body piercer rinses his equipment in alcohol. Nothing's grosser than an infected Justine Bateman profile on your chest.
© MMIII, Yankee Pot Roast Light & Magic