One Leafy Plant Precipice

About a week or so ago, my step-daughter introduced me to One Tree Hill, a teen-angst ridden, evening soap opera with some pretty angst-ridden adults too. 

I've been aware for months that she watches this show (she owns all the DVDs except Season 7 - but the two leads are gone in that season, so who cares right?). Anyway, she suggested I start watching it. I hesitated. I doubted I would like it. It looked too, oh, I don't know, schmaltzy. 

I watched the first episode of Season 1 with very little enthusiasm or hope that I would eventually like it. It was so formulaic and saccharine. It took some convincing for me to watch the second and third episodes. Then, slowly, it crept up on me. 

At about episode four, I began deciphering the foundations being built for future drama, and my curiosity was aroused. So I kept watching... and watching.... and watching. And now, shit me, I'm addicted to this freakin' show! My step-daughter and I watched eleven episodes on Saturday and eight more on Sunday. Yeah, we're hard core.

We start Season 2 tonight and I am pumped! The thought of five more whole seasons of this new drug has sent me into TV euphoria. It's almost as good as the massive clusterf*ck of amazing TV we got when we signed up for HBO and The Movie Network last summer. 

One Tree Hill is clearly targeted toward teens and young adults but for a TV addict such as myself, especially prone to serial TV series, it's like crack cocaine. It gives me that much sought after high, that sense of constant bliss, of complete disconnection from the real world. Is that wrong? 

I fear my step-daughter and I may be found, weeks from now, in a TV-induced coma, our bodies etched into the couch, chip bags and empty pizza boxes strewn about, sipping two-litre bottles of root beer through colourful, plastic straws, wondering what day it is. But ask us anything about One Tree Hill, and we'll know the answer.

Damn you teen drama! Why you gotta be so good?