I used to say I didn't have a TV, and it sort of had that snotty "and if I did I'd only watch PBS" tone. After five months of living alone, however, I've spent so much time watching "television" - thanks Hulu and uTorrent - that it would be kind of pathetic if I didn't have anything to show for it.

1. The drama
Do you miss Pacey and Joey and Dawson and the feeling of trying to be with your first love but then wanting to be with your first love's best friend because maybe they're a better, cooler, less-douchenuggety person but then your first love comes along and he's all I want you back but you're with that other person and then they do something inexcusable or weird and so you're alone even though they both want you and then you choose yourself? Well, I found them again, only their names are Cappie and Casey and Evan and it's like we never left Capeside. I can't find Jen anywhere, though. Maybe when you're killed for ratings you're unresurrectable.

2. The realness/feel
This part isn't easy to explain, but there are scenes where Casey and Ashley talk about a boy or a sorority debacle or a party (generally all three are involved) and sometimes they finish each others' sentences or make lame jokes and sometimes they mug or sigh or squeal, and it feels very real. The dorky freshman makes out with a "funbuddy" and it's hilariously, painfully awkward, or the golden frat boy slouches against the doorway in rumpled self-entitlement. The drama is over the top, but the actions of daily college life - grabbing coffee, studying in a bar, hanging out with a friend - are satisfying to watch in their normality and comfortableness.

3. The sorority girl mystique
I grew up with girlfriends who were more likely to own hiking boots than hair dryers, and my time at college involved a lot more ponytails and holey jeans than I'd care to admit. While I know the business end of a mascara wand now, I still don't understand why the hell women on BART insist on coating each eyelash fifty times (although I am completely certain of the fact that it makes me want to clock them). In short, watching the evil tactics of the Zeta Beta Zetas is a fantastic anthropological experience. The social manuevering and twinkly/stabby eyes in every searingly perky confrontation make me feel very nervous and at at the same time it's kind of instructive and makes me interested in finding my own weapons-grade lip gloss; maybe it will just make my lips that much shinier, but maybe it will also make me that much more fearsome the next time I tell someone off with a terrifyingly fake smile and a hair flip.