After a beautiful Christmas, bright & shiny and full of everything it should be, I got sick. I am still sick. Gross. So, my senses have been heavily dulled by cold & flu medication, and my dreams have been full of nightmarish amplifications of regular life (Scary emails! Scarier texts! Thanks brain for being so creative!)
Through the pain, the coughing, the drooling, the snoring, the eyeball pus and the razor-lined throat, two things got me through this past week. Number one: Dexter. (I will be getting extremely spoilerific. If you aren’t completely caught up to the end of Season 4, please don’t read on.)
When school started in Fall 2008, I got all faux-adult and gave up watching most of my beloved TV shows for time constraint reasons. This felt like such a sacrifice, and that tells you how lame I was before school started. Dexter was one of those shows. As of last Tuesday, I had only finished up to Season Two. As of last Thursday I had whipped through Season Three and Jimmy Smits, a solid good time since NYPD Blue, did a knife-sharp job, but the season was tainted for me going in. Why? He was nominated for a Golden Globe for his performance last year and the clip they showed was him on Dexter’s kill table. RAD! THANKS GOLDEN GLOBES! Still, even knowing the direction it was heading down, it was a tremendous season and I was wholly satisfied with everything.
I started Season Four at the cusp of my sickness, so everything got amplified, the way it does when you’re groggy and have the fuzzy mind of a child. Here is my dissection (har!) of my favourite season yet.
- First off, the score and the opening credits are the best going right now. So perfect.
- John Lithgow was extra creepy and sadistic, even though I have felt that way about him since seeing this as a child. Shudder upon shudder upon goosebump. His hairline, his two extra long teeth, the little mouth, GAH! I needed no help believing this character.
- Deb was extraordinary. My favourite balls-out acting moment – Her breakdown in the parking lot with Dexter, after she and Lundy get shot and she’s hysterical and moaning and animalistic and inconsolable. This was perfection. If you’ve ever lost anybody you love, that is what it looks and feels like. (Confession – I actually didn’t like her character for the first chunk of the first season. Something was just off for me. Nuv hardly rubs that in now.)
- Dexter, as always, is so adept at making us love him even when he’s in the throes of being the creepiest guy ever in a tight brown killing shirt. The new hardships found in the sleepy suburbs and the way he dealt with them was so appropriate. And, the second episode where he has to stay awake after his car wreck, man, I felt the exhaustion in his bones.
- I wanted to give Cody a real haircut and push Astor in the pool many more times.
- Best sight gag – Masuka’s truck.
- The romance & marriage between Lt. LaGuerta & Angel? Le sigh.
- I’d love to push Quinn’s teeth around to make them look better, but I love his Miami Vice wardrobe and the fact they gave him something to do with the Reporter, whose character arc was unexpected (to me anyways) and filled out beautifully at the end.
- The two moments I almost screamed out loud at my laptop: The cruel Thanksgiving high five turned finger breaker & Arthur walking into the station and reading Dexter’s name off his laminate.
- Now, the end. I knew “something crazy” was going to happen. I wish I didn’t because I genuinely thought everything was going to be okay as he wandered through the dark house picking up Harrison’s toys. But, oh, the balls of the writers. They have never shied off from killing major characters (R.I.P the beloved and foul mouthed Doakes) but this was big. The sweet, oftimes annoying, but still loveable Rita, now the last victim of the Trinity Killer floating in that burgundy water. And the baby. In the blood. Fuck.Me.Terrible. What on EARTH is going to happen next season? Single dad Dexter? I’m exhausted for him already.
When my throat is sore, it’s game over. You realize how much you swallow during the day, and it’s A LOT. Especially when every time you do the sides of your throat punch each other with knives and lemons. Solutions? Halls and the ilk are fine but I hate the lengthy process of sucking them till they’re gone – I inevitably tuck one into my cheek where it creates a small irritated crater. Syrups, especially cherry-flavoured ones, are so terrible I’d rather drink voodoo hobo pee. Hark, I have found the winning solution, and the second thing that kept me alive and not overdosing on Almond Roca this week: Nin Jiom herbal cough & throat syrup. My in-laws discovered this a while back and, oh man, is it completely doable. Made up of dark honey and a bunch of herbs, it goes down in a thick glob and makes Mr. Throat happy, for at least a few hours.
