I Think You Need a Doctor

I guess given my family history it would make a lot of sense that I fall in love with a doctor.  Unfortunately, my doctor is not just any old doctor.  He is The Doctor.  It's more of a name than a title really.  Someone I will never be able to be with.  The age difference is too great, and the fact that I'm not British is a definite turn off for him.  Who is he you may ask?  If you don't know, I'm sorry that you have yet to be infected.  

Don't worry, your time will come.  

Right...

Now!

Take your mouse immediately and open a new tab.  Go to Netflix.  If you don't have a Netflix, buy one (or borrow someone else's.  That's what real people do anyways).  Go to the search box.  Type in Doctor Who and play the first episode.  It's called Rose, or something, and it is fantastic.  Now enjoy the rest of your life.  It will be about a bagillion times better.

This is all being said after five days of watching by the way.  So you know this is legit.  I'm already on Season 3.  It's a problem I'm proud of.  I was just recently cursed with the good television infection, but I am so very thankful that I was.  In honor of that gratefulness, I would like to publicly announce my gratitude to the universe and all the different worlds inside it.  Thank you AGS.  You have enlightened me to the world of the Whovians.  I am glad to be here.