The Grinch Who Stole "Susan Says..."

So there I am watching "Glee," squirming with discomfort as usual as Rachel gets all crazy and Finn acts like a moron even though I know that in roughly 48 minutes, Rachel will have an epiphany, realizing what a selfish nut job she's been and Finn will come through, with some sort of humble wisdom, in the end.

I'm seriously hating them. Plus, I am less than pleased with myself for wasting heartbeats watching a show meant for adolescents.

Yet I keep watching.

My deteriorating mood would make the Grinch -- before he got all soft --  look like Jimmy Stewart after Clarence the Angel got through with him.

Not only do I feel totally disconnected from the beaming faces on the commercials as gifts are exchanged while the K-Mart logo infringes on the blissed-out montage, but I wonder whether these kind of euphoric, super-cozy holidays are real for anyone.

And, if they are, who do you have to be to have them?

It is now I remember that I actually DVRed the show and could have been fast-forwarding through these anxiety-producing commercials...and my mood grows darker.

Yet still I watch.

My discontent expands. Its borders open and its fences topple as the plot of a Glee Christmas moves forward so the gang can do the right thing as we, the dribbling, half-hypnotized viewers, knew they would.

Okay, maybe I was the only one dribbling.

Of course the "kids" (whose real ages range between 25 and 70) end up entertaining the homeless children in the shelter after all and, despite previous turbulence, conflicts resolve, Sue Sylvester smiles warmly and kisses are exchanged at open lockers all over McKinley High (I'm genuinely scared that I know the name of the school). 

Deeply vexed and feeling twitchy, I squeeze my eyes shut, hardening my heart further...and then I hear it...

The first strains of a song against whose joyful power I am helpless.

A song at which I will weep in public or private. A song that will undo me in the car or an elevator or on line at the DMV (although I'm usually crying there, anyway)...

A song that make me love my enemies (Yes, Justin Bieber, you little moppet), want to bake cookies and hand them out on street corners, hug everyone in sight and sprinkle glitter on Seth as he snores in the recliner...

A song that makes me want to be a better person who, ultimately, makes better choices about her TV viewing habits....

"Damn," I thought in my last coherent moments before I was sucked into the emotional vortex of the music, "I didn't want to feel better tonight. I want to be mean and dysfunctional -- for no apparent reason -- until at least midnight..."

Here it is, in its original form. Warning:  if you have a hard time dealing with 80's hair, you  may want to keep your eyes closed....