when you tell people that you cannot come to their party, or have to go home early, because you are watching "battlestar galactica" on dvd, they get this sort of sour smug look. like this is just the sort of information they have been waiting to hear: evidence that you should no longer be entrusted with anything cool -- if you ever were. that you are one high-powered telescope away from a one-night stand at a roswell convention.
chuck's line of defense starts like this "it's a lot like 'lost.' i mean, it doesn't have to take place in outer space ..." and here eyes are rolled, or just glaze over, and bodies twitch and he would have more success giving a detailed account of the genetic make up of fruit flies. i wouldn't actually consider myself a sci/fi person. although i did enjoy "alf" for a few seasons. but something about bg is stuck in my craw -- and it's more than just getting sucked in by moving pictures on a television -- like the time i really got into that tori spelling show.
i have been having bg-inspired dreams every single night. sometimes it is subtle: i'll dream of a meteorite landing in the living room; sometimes it is pretty specific to the show: duluth is attacked by terrorists, who happen to be cylons -- the robotic villians from bg. sometimes it is just the word "cylons" playing like a mantra in my head as i'm sleeping.
the other night i was in that almost-asleep phase and i started thinking about how i could make a hand signal that sort of looked like a cylon fighter ship. i plotted it as i drifted off, excited to wake up and show chuck the new cylon symbol.
he eyed me warily. he seemed close to prescribing me an mtv.com marathon including "the hills" and "real world sydney." anything to get me to stop singing "enjoy the cylons" and "she blinded me with cylons."
"you're obsessed," chuck said.
"what?" i said. "it's not like i'm writing fan fiction. ... but if i were going to write fan fiction it would be about ..."
eventually he came around, though, and added sound effects to go with my cylon raider hand puppet.
sunday night we rented disc one of season 2.5 at hollywood video. they didn't have disc two and when we left the video store, i felt a bit of panic. with only three hours of bg, we would be sure to run out of episodes before bedtime.
"this just makes me uncomfortable," i said in the car. "it's like spending eight hours with just four cigarettes left."
he muttered something about addiction.
readers, if you've made it this far into this post, we did run out of episodes. he found the next episode online. one with japanese subtitles. we crawled into bed and watched the 12 minutes-worth that had downloaded on his laptop, then reluctantly put it away and went to sleep.
i kept waking up and thinking ... i just had another battlestar galactica dream ... then falling asleep and having another.
yesterday we went to minneapolis for the day. we walked around, looked at records, toured fannie's new home and went to dinner. sitting in a suburban sports bar, i eyed the time and was startled to realize that if we didn't shake it, we weren't going to get back to duluth in time to rent the next episodes. we would be stuck from midnight to 4 a.m. with just each other as entertainment, while missions to caprica went on unrealized by us.
we walked out of the restaurant at 9:30 p.m. and headed north, all the while doing math. we were cutting it close. i began considering the ways we could have shaved time from our trip to the cities. "we shouldn't have gone into fannie's attic," chuck said. "maybe i should have ordered soup," i lamented.
i considered calling blockbuster. having them put two discs on hold, then rushing into the store just before they locked the doors. but could we get all the way up central enterance in time? would hollywood be closer? probably. but could we be sure they would have the episodes we needed.
we did math. lots of math: x many miles, x many miles per hour, then weighed it against the clock. unforseen sidetracking: i needed to get gas.
we mapped and plotted. hollywood video. take the cody exit. if they didn't have bg, we'd start watching heroes, season one as a plan b.
another mileage sign. chuck did more math.
"we should get to duluth at 11:54," he said. peered at my odometer. "if you are in fact going 77 miles per hour."
we pulled into the parking lot at 11:52 p.m.
"seven minutes," some cranky hollywood employee croaked at us.
we headed straight to the section. chuck found the next two discs.
we did it. with time to spare.
we have two episodes left. season three is not yet out on dvd. i promise that by tomorrow i'll shut up about battlestar galactica.