Confession #242

Nothing gets to me like "The Ghost Whisperer." Nothing. I weep and I do mean weep every single time. No show ever broadcast on television could be more transparent in its emotional manipulations, more full of platitudes, or more downright cheesy in its sets, its special effects, and its messages but it never fails to hit me right there. Tonight, for example, when ghost-boy Kenny--via our Melinda, of course--asked his mommy if his turtle, Stubby, would be waiting for him if he went into the light, I was so determined not to cry that my cheeks were puffed out and my eyes were positively bulging until I finally gave in and broke into a full-on snorting sob.

I have been converted from mildly hating Jennifer Love Hewitt to loving the J. Love. And, on a somewhat random note, I have also become pretty convinced that my girl has alopecia. At first I thought there was no reason (and no need for one) for rocking the beehive wig and false eyelash aesthetic, then something seemed a little iffy and now I am fairly certain she's got no hair at all. This only makes me love her more.

Whisper on, J. Love, whisper on.