Dear Cohen Family and OC Friends:

It was with a heavy heart that I said goodbye as you left my living room for the last time Thursday night. I have so much to say to you all and I feel so connected to each and every one of you. Please permit me to say goodbye to each of you in my own way. Yes, we cultivate and encourage a very healthy and active fantasy life here at TSL.

For the past 4 years, since the summer of 2003, and I remember that summer because I was undergoing surgery and radiation treatments for cancer, you came into my life. I must admit, I was first introduced to you by a beautiful 25 year old, resembling you, Ryan Atwood – but more of in a preppy, Luke-eque, water-polo player kind of way. I mocked him for leaving happy hour early on Wednesday evenings to spend it with the Newport Group. So naturally I needed to see what all the fuss was about as well as supplying the opportunity for easy discussion about our new mutual friends. But ya’ll surprised me. And I found myself more eager to spend time with you than him, which turned out to be one of the best decisions I could have made.

And when I entered the hospital, you were there to whisk me away to someplace sunny and beautiful. I had Seth to make me laugh and Marisa, lovely Marisa to remind me that I didn’t really have it THAT bad because I had so many people aroud that still loved me.

Sandy & Kirsten – if I ever have redheaded rugrats I want to be parents just like you. Young, beautiful, human, funny, understanding, trendy and compassionate.

Seth: You would have been just my type in high school. Nerdy, smart, sarcastic, eclectic, funny, artistic and a tad spastic in that ‘I’ve made one too many trips to Starbucks’ kind of way. I’m so proud of the way you’ve grown up and come into your own before our eyes. I look on you as I do my own little brother, as you remind me of him soooo much. You’ve had your growing pains, its true, but its all worked out, you’re the better man for it, and in the end…you got the girl.

Summer: Once seemingly the blaze cheerleader, you were, I think pushed by Seth to discover who you really are not dumb…just shallow! And really, who can’t respect that?? You, Summer Roberts are a sarcastic, bitchy, dry, funny, sensitive gal and I know, while we may never be able to share the joy of raiding each other’s closets, I know we will be friends forever.

Marisa “Coop” Cooper – may you rest in peace. You taught us all to count calories (and your ribs) as well as the valuable lesson of – no matter how bad things get, they can always get worse. You strong strong gal. Hardened by life and parental dysfunctionality.  We have missed you terribly and we know that in the end, Newport could no longer survive without you in it. Fear not, we shall meet again in that great big Keds commercial in the sky.

Taylor: Oh Taylor. How many times did I watch you with your ‘To Do’ lists, entourage of romantic yet-not-quite-right trysts and your endless ability to speak so quickly and for so long without stopping or even taking a breath (the Russian found out to his own detriment on Monday night, that I also possess this ability)…and then there was that flashback to second grade, with your coke bottle glasses, your hair in pigtails, wanting desperately to be accepted by the in-crowd. Sigh. Taylor – you have only to dye your hair ala Julie Cooper, grow a few inches (and a few cup sizes) and we’d be twins. Though for my sake, and the sake of those routinely in my company, I do hope I have mellowed out in the past few years making the connection a little less than blatantly obvious.

Ryan: Ryan (girly, dreamy smile comes over face)…..mmmm……Ryan Atwood. You satiated my bad-boy desires every week and sometimes more on DVDs. Your wife beaters showing off those gorgeous arms, that illusive smirk, your brooding, pensive nature. In fact, all of my bad boy crushes (note I said crushes, not relationships) over the past 4 years have actually BEEN about 5’9 with short blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes!  Huh. This is a pattern that I’ve never quite detected before…I believe this is the moment that therapists refer to as “the breakthrough”.

And last…but CERTAINLY NOT the least….Julie.

Julie Cooper: You put it best when you said ‘this town is only big enough for ONE manipulative bitch!’. And that, my dear…is you. My redheaded, socialite role model. In a fantasy world, you are my big sister and I want to grow up to be just like YOU, but without the lying…and the cheating…and the marrying for money (well…we can leave that on the list). But with the strength, and the survival instinct, which is not to be trumped by the FASHION instinct (see! Marrying for money has its perks!) and the general air of fabulousness. I was proud of you, sis. Yes, proud of you for choosing to find yourself over having a man in your life. Bravo, Red. Bravo! You always land on your feet – and wear expensive footwear when you do!

Goodbye, my friends. Goodbye to the colorful world of Newport Beach. As I look around, shake my head and realize that I am left with none but the doctors at Seattle Grey’s to try and distract me, from my somewhat colorless (at present) east coast life.

And I shiver, crawl back under my electric blanket, and dream myself back beside the infinity pool.

Yours Always,  

I’ve never been a HUGE fan of the Super bowl. As you all know my pigskin predilections tend toward Collegiate rather than the professional athletes of the sport but nonetheless with Da Bears making their first championship appearance in several decades and an all Midwestern bowl game – I had to watch. So I settled myself down, engulfed in The Russian’s oversized college sweatshirt, some boxer shorts and my fuzzy zebra print slippers (yes – I looked hot), opened up a Yuengling and prepared for a good match up.

And with an opening 92 yard return to score a touchdown in thd first 20 seconds of the game – I thought – we’re in for one hellava game…or one hellava blood blath. Either way – should be fun.

Well, I was wrong.

Well before Prince – or the artist formerly known as – took the stage for a less than memorable purple-clad freak show – I was yawning in my beer. So thank goodness for my entertainment salvation of the evening – ROME.

ROME – that ancient republic, oratorical Mecca, hedonistic breeding ground, and now top-rated HBO series – you saved me from two more quarters of over-hyped, disinterested Sunday evening mediocrity.

But, Scarlett, how could an HBO series could possibly surpass the Super bowl on the A/V meter 'o entertainment? You may ask?

Please indulge me as I enumerate the reasons why HBO's ROME surpassed Superbowl XLI

This striking comparison begs the question – have we advanced as a society and as a species or deteriorated over time? Clearly we have evolved if we are entertained by merely the tossing and running of a ball vs. mutilation by wild animals, and literal mortal combat for our amusement. We now reserve those activities as pastimes of the statesmen rather than of the citizens – a spectacle best viewed in private and away from the huddled masses.

Additionally – who’s to say we have actually evolved when we no longer require actual human sacrifices to get our daily fill of violence? When we are now capable of satiating our hunger for those deeds to which gladiators owe their fame through special effects, high definition TV and the imagination of screenwriters, directors and Steven Spielberg. 

Frankly, I would be curious to explore just why this is – that we seek to see such horrors in order to be entertained – ROME, 24, The Sopranos. Is it because these scenes depict actions and violence we ourselves are incapable or unwilling to inflict on others? Or perhaps it makes us feel fortunate about our every day lives that no matter how bad they get….we’re not being fed to the lions…not literally anyway.