25 July 2003 - 10:23 a.m.

I was glad to get out of the house last night. My dad and bro were out of town for a bit, leaving my mom and me to unlimited chick flicks and M*A*S*H, heavy on the M*A*S*H.

Which is causing me to do some soul-searching, because I'm finding that my top-secret crush on Alan Alda/Capt. Pierce (well, top-secret until about 5 seconds ago) seems to be trickling on over to McClean Stevenson/Lt. Col. Henry Blake.

And while I could just go with that, I'm reluctant to harbor a pash for someone of higher rank than my previous 4077 boyfriend. I mean, I just can't be one of those chicks who digs power, and there area lot of those chicks. Anyone with a working knowledge of the first three seasons of M*A*SH knows that Henry always had the prettiest (and the most!) girlfriends, whereas a fair number of Hawkeye's early snogs look as though they haven't shampooed since the Normandy invasion.

What gives, Hawk?

And though you would never guess from this entry, with it's British Teen Vogue sensibility and frenzied pop culture references, but I just don't think Henry is smart enough for me. He has a lot of cute lines, but beyond that, there doesn't seem to be a lot going on under that fishing hat.

The seemingly obvious solution to this quandary is the fact that both Stevenson and Blake are dead, in real life and on the series (and if I spoiled that for anyone, sorry. It's not like you haven't had 25+ years to catch up.) But as one J-Ho from many many years ago postulated, my affections tend toward dead men.

He was wrong, BTW. Well, sort of.

Maybe women like Henry becase he does their laundry.

Could I really see myself with a midwesterner?

OKay, time to go before this turns into fanfic.

What I'm wearing: Red wrap top, olive drab (hell yeah!) shorts.

What I'm reading: Clearly I am humming "Suicide is painless."

What I'm doing after this: Finishing my tea.