Netflix is my best friend..

Ok. Ok. Netflix is not indeed my best friend. To quote The Mindy Project, "Best friend isn't a person it is a tier.." I will go as far to say that Netflix is the grieving girl's best friend. I am in no way making light of grief; however, at this point it is either cry or awkwardly laugh in attempt to avoid publicly crying. This social avoidance is fact and I wish someone would have informed me of the dangers of TV marathoning escapism (ahem...MA in Journalism and Mass Communication...cough cough...should know better..) For future reference I am coining this as Socially Suppressed Slug Syndrome (S4), mostly because when I wear my baggy pajamas (Marathoning uniform...adoringly known as my "Uni") I look and feel like a slug.

I have found myself strangely sucked into Texas football life during Friday Night Lights to the point where my internal voice had a deep Southern accent and often commentated daily life in football terms and locker room motivational speeches.

I have also found my internal voice, again with a Southern drawl, but this time with Kevin Spacey's South Carolina molasses dialect from House of Cards. This time my mood went from cheerleader (please note that I did not say rally girl) to sophisticated deceit. Indeed my moods flip flop more than IHOP pancakes on Free Pancake Day.

At this point you might be thinking, "Two shows...that's nothing.." but dear friends, please be aware that is the beauty of social media and blogging. One only shares what one wants to. By this time Netflix has surely received my kind letter requesting..err demanding...they instantly add more shows for those people in desperate need of a fix.

What does this all have to do with pie? Excellent question. Netflix is the reason why there has been no pie. No cake. No cookies. Just potatoes of the couch variety. So here we go....enjoy the flood of posts.