"this is unbelievable. i can't take anymore. i just lost uncle junior to a mental institution, now christopher's dead, and AJ tries to drown himself next episode." i start getting really worked up and need to leave the room for a breather (cigarette) and call my sponsor (sopranos anonymous).
it's amazing in pop culture what becomes real. for a brief period (the entire year of 2007) i believed the sopranos were my biological relatives. i used to come into to the kitchen in the mornings in a big white robe and boxer shorts, go to the fridge, drink out of the tropicana carton, and slam the door closed so hard the house would shake.
when my ipod broke or i lost my wallet i'd shrug and mutter "whaddyagondo" to no one in particular.
i used to make my mom wear a name tag that read 'carmela'. she was forced to drive ziti over three times a week and wear her hair in a massively hairsprayed bleached blowdry coif at all times. once in a while she was permitted to wear velour leisure suits in electric blue, but she still had to wear three big gold necklaces, including the cross.
when i started beating up strippers and followed one out to the parking lot during an argument one night, i knew i had reached my limit. the first step in having a problem is admitting it. or something like that. anyways i googled "seriously fucking addicted to the sopranos" and found approximately twelve-hundred-billion websites revolving around people who are even bigger losers than me. score!
i've been in therapy for years now and the last few weeks i've been relapsing. falling into old patterns like making a bowl of popcorn big enough for eight sumo wrestlers to have leftovers and lying in bed in the dark, watching the screen for hours, while the rain patters the window beside me and i lose myself in a life of crime, pasta, and baldspots. sometimes i sigh with happiness: god, i love my family!
because "a man who does not spend time with his family can never be a real man."
yeah...the godfather's alright too.
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