Recently, a significant-sometime-other-on-off-person told me I was Liz Lemon off 30 Rock. Having spent the day and night in my pyjamas, watching 30 Rock season 4, I have realised he is/was almost right.
I AM Lemon. But without the job and with an added cat and at least 80% less hilarious humour. I can put on a show. To some, my life may seem awesome, to others, sad as a torn pocket or a bird with one leg because the other one got torn off by some malevolent fisherman’s line or the plastic that comes with a six-pack in the UK.
So here be me. And Lemon. I’m going to get new glasses and start eating sandwiches. If art can’t imitate life, then life’s going to fuck art over.