It's Like Seven Steps to Kevin Bacon Except With Stress and Television Shows

Everybody reacts to stress differently. Some people get ulcers, others canker sores- I once knew a girl who dealt with crippling anxiety by ripping all her eyelashes out. I'll give you a minute here to thank God that's not your coping mechanism.

For me, it's my eyelids- they twitch. You can't see it unless you're close enough to count my pores, but it's pretty creepy-looking and feels even weirder. Not my favorite.

Due to all my exhausting vacation-ing recently (and perhaps a few other, actually stressful, factors), the twitch has been non-stop lately and after a marathon cleaning session on Friday night, all I've wanted to do all weekend is lie in the fetal position watching television online. It's not... the only... thing I've done, but I would say it has taken a certain precedence the past few days. Hey, I'm still recovering from four blissful days at a world-class resort in sunny Florida, okay? Don't judge.

I did venture out on Saturday for a brief post-Christmas shopping trip with V, where we ravaged the Borders going-out-of-business sale, and I picked up a shirt for the Brad Paisley concert in March, to go with my kickin' new cowboy boots. (One day, the words 'cowboy boots' there will link to a yet-to-be-written post, most likely in haiku form, about my favorite new Western possession)

I also hosted the shortest Christmas party ever, whose brevity was due in large part to my sick roommate. She's got the laryngitis, m'am, and because she's a teacher, she's doing everything possible to preserve her voice for the classroom. Which has made things kind of hilarious, mostly because I keep forgetting that I still have the power of speech. She'll write down on a notecard "what are you making for dinner?" and I'm sitting there thinking "hmm, how can I pantomime 'chili'?" And she's sitting there thinking "I can't believe my roommate is such an idiot". She doesn't say it, of course, but only because she can't.

Anyway, did I have a point here somewhere? Oh yes- fetal position, online television. I won't go on about my deep and undying love for Jimmy Fallon, his twelve days of Christmas sweaters, or the fact that he plays beer pong on late-night with his guests. I'll save you from excessive talk about how adorable he looks in a suit, like an eight-year-old dressed up for a wedding, or how he cutely referred to Taylor Swift as 'Swifty' for an entire segment. You won't find me blathering on about how endearing he was in his first episode, where Robert DeNiro made some of the most awkward late-night television known to man or beast. No siree, not here.

Sidenote: Future husband, if you're out there? Take me to see a Jimmy Fallon show someday. There is nothing I would love more. On second thought, maybe don't. That could spell trouble for our marriage. Might be better to go to the Stars on Ice route. Look, we'll talk about it later.

So INSTEAD of talking on and on about Jimmy, an endeavor in which I have clearly already failed, let me introduce you to Better Off Ted. While Glee won the spot for my new favorite show of 2009, it's a new year and with it comes a fresh comedic slate. Especially since Glee is on hold for American Idol until April. Damn you, Ryan Seacrest.

Better Off Ted has taken the lead for best sitcom by a long shot, and not just because we're only less than two weeks into 2010. It's a cross between The Office and Arrested Development, with a touch of Scrubs bromance via the partnership of the show's two scientists, Phil and Lem. I'm terrible at describing things, so I promise you your time is better spent checking out a few minutes on hulu. Consider it a belated Christmas gift, from me to you.