"Dawson, I'm having an existential crisis over how narcissistic, but self-deprecating Pacey can be."
Yeah, in my 90s we would have said: "Dawson, Pacey drives me crazy because he's such a selfish jerk." Or perhaps something more colorful.
So whether it was the dialog or the fact that it just wasn't fulfilling my 90s craving, I decided to pick up Felicity instead. Now I'd seen the crazy time-travel/paradox last season of the show, which foretold the direction J.J. Abrams was heading, but I'd never seen the rest. Felicity is the ultimate 90s show. The sheer amount of flannel and baby barrettes and big desktop computers and Birkenstocks with socks make the whole thing look like Nirvana and Vitamin C had a love child. This was the gloriousness that was the 90s.
|Amy Jo Johnson|
So far two discs in, we've tackled plagiarism and date rape, and yet, the show is oddly less didactic than good old Dawson's. I've learned so much already. And the clothes. Oh, the clothes. How I miss the ridiculousness that we wore. I had so many tiny little fitted babydoll shirts with chinese characters on them. And chunky shoes. I miss chunky shoes.
Gems from the first eight episodes:
"Not everyone has a pager!"
"Have you ever been on the internet?"
"Why does anyone have a webpage?"
Yes, for those of you younger than thirty, it was dark times. Dark times indeed. And my children will be happy that thanks to carrying them in my womb, I can't fit in those awesome babydoll shirts anymore, which is probably a good thing.
But one of these days I'm bringing 'em back. Until them I hope your dreams are full of Doc Martins and Mtv.