You know that’s right.

I’ve recently discovered the tv show, Psych (five years behind everyone else); and the combination of new comedy fodder and 80 unseen episodes has resulted in a binge fest the likes of which Graceland has never seen. (Fortitude is but a castle in France, my friend.)

I have now seen four years worth, in the space of a week and a half.

Hours of back-to-back eps, until my eyes lolled and the left side of my body ceased to function. Other side effects include singing along to the credits like I’m special needs, crushing on the male lead like a prepubescent teen and twitching in my sleep from withdrawal (like a cat dreaming it’s being chased by a dog).

I’ve been here before.

But a new phenomenon has occurred. I’m now crushing on the show itself, in an exultant love previously reached only by my brother and Bea Arthur. I’ve fallen in love with Psych for its beautiful, sexy and sumptuous movie references. Sigh.

Sumptuous and sexy 80s movie references.

My heart swoons and I feel a heady rush with each obscure, Hughes-filled reference. I blush when it says ‘fear does not exist in this dojo’, toy with my hair at each nostril-flared mention of Judd Nelson and tell myself that only I see that the dude in the werewolf ep is from An American Werewolf in London. But I fear that, not only do others share and compete with this love but, I’m now a stalker of Joanie Loves Chachi proportions.

In my defense, I’m surrounded by movie heathens. It’s a sad day when you’re reduced to deciphering “are you okay, ‘cause you’re sweating pretty profusely?” for a pack of drunks on a Friday night. My pithy cinematic references are words without a home, like Ralph Machhio wandering the streets of LA as the pop-culture hobo he is.

But the pleasure I get from such a show is bitter-sweet; as if the closer someone gets to my funny bone, the more painful the laughter becomes. After the rumble of delight and guffaws pass through, like the astral train in Ghostbusters, the whippet tail of jealously swiftly follows. Truth bomb: that someone else wrote it before I could.

Meaty jealousy.

That and I really want a hot chocolate friend to coolly bump fists with … as I purse my lips and declare, “you know that’s right”.

About the wuc

I'm a chick living in Australia, working for the man. I hate office work with a passion usually reserved for James Cameron, but somehow I ended up with a career behind a desk, stapling my forehead at random intervals.

10 Responses to “You know that’s right.”

  1. psych is aweeeesome. saw the lead (james roday) in a play last year in LA and it was too odd for words to see him as someone other than the ridiculous shawn. i wanted him to break out in an ’80s movie reference randomly, just to soothe my soul. ironically, my LA and santa barbara friends don’t watch (whaaaaat?!), but here on the east coast, we’re obsessed.

    fist bumps, “whaaaaat?” and all of shawn’s nicknames for gus are pretty standard for me and my friends around here. and we are all in our 30s. :)

    • I’m so happy in my whaaaat? bone right now! Total cracks on seeing Shawn in a play. I’d be expecting him to randomly air-fist bump the crowd whenever the cast weren’t looking. Majorly jealous of your crew of peeps to fist bump with. NASA wants to blow the fist up. Not cool, yo.

  2. This is such a quirky blog, I LOVE it!

  3. My life has been put on hold for Psych… I’ve been so mean with myself, only allowing a couple of episodes per evening, but still.. series 5 will soon be over. I don’t want it to end… Would it be wrong to round up the cast, lock them in my basement and force them to be witty in character for me all day long, and sing to me when I’m sad or tired? I don’t want it to be over…

    • Apologies for the satellite delay. I’ve been sitting in a darkened room, rocking back and forth, randomly fist bumping the doorknob, pretending it’s a chocolate hand clasped in mutual love. My time would’ve been better spent assisting your kidnapping efforts and writing new scripts for said hostages. Good news though, new episodes will air in the next couple of months! I await the first ep of Season 6 as if it were a love child produced from an ill-fated yet delicious union with Robert Downey Jr.

      • Can’t wait… I miss them… I miss them all so much… I was talking to someone the other day who said they used to live in Santa Barbara and I was about to yell WHAT? Do you know Sean Spencer? And then I remembered…. Oh man I think I was pretending to myself that Sean and Gus and Lassie and Juliette were all just hanging out, taking a break from police work for a few months.. It feels much worse now.

  4. Re-like. I’m so freaking happy right now

    • Too awesome for words (cue fist bump). Let me know if you suffer the same Special Needs symptoms as me.

      I’m now rounding out Season 5, and am living in abject fear of the moment the credits roll on the last ep. Psyche out.

  5. Im on it. Don’t want to be premature, haven’t watched an episode yet, downloading… but if you’ve really just given me 80 unwatched episodes of comedy to watch… I want to thank you so hard, it hurts

wot say you?

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