Street has a lot of senior goodbyes to make as the Spring semester comes to a close. But really, rather than interact with precious friends for the last time, we have become obsessed with the final episodes of our favorite TV shows. Here are some goodbye notes to our nearest, dearest boob tube friends.
Dear Rachel Green,
Do you remember when my friends and I did that fake The More You Know public service announcement for my Talmud class in seventh grade, and I had your haircut, and I was you? That was the best moment of my life -- well, one of. I want to be you so badly. Really, you are my idol. Goodbye.
Dear The Tick,
Please come back. You were the funniest show in Cartoon Network's Adult Swim, and now you are gone, leaving my life both meaningless and devoid of any kind of joy whatsoever. Remember the episode where you got the mustache? And when your sidekick Arthur found someone else with a moth suit. That episode was better than all Friends' episodes put together.
Thanks for the memories,
Thank you for reminding me, every Thursday night that Wharton kids aren't the only "ambitious" ones in the world. Other people suck too. And also, although Ivanka may have dissed Street (twice!), with two simple words -- well, one word and a contraction -- The Donald does it every week.
Cheer up, Street, you're in good company,
Dear Most Extreme Elimination Challenge,
Do you know that amazing feeling you get when you do nothing but laugh for half an hour? Only you make me feel this way. Your crazy antics -- having nameless people straddle giant ears of corn and catch soccer balls launched 200 feet in the air -- fill my heart with joy. I love you.
I like Eddie the dog. And Frasier's dad is funny. But everyone else is awful. Daphne used to be cute, but then she started dating Niles, and that's enough to crush any guy's fantasies. I'm still baffled that Frasier even got a spin-off show. The only thing worse would have been Diane or Lillith. At least those would have left the air sooner.
What will I do without you on Thursday nights? Omarosa, you should get some help for your pathological lies. Katrina and the girls who posed for FHM, now we take you seriously as businesswomen. That's a lot of silicone. Amy, well done for dumping Nick, he's a copier salesman. Bill, I will stalk you down and marry you. Thanks Donald.
Don't change the hair,
Dear Forest Whitaker,
Picture a man hosting a show beneath sight and sound. He's left the Twilight Zone and entered ... the realm of crappy TV remakes that only last one season. If you haven't figured it out, Forest, I'm actually talking about you. Remember the time you hosted that show featuring B-actors in trite situations trying to pay homage to a '60s classic? Yeah, I'm trying to forget it too. Seriously, though, what were you thinking? I didn't realize starring in Phone Booth and Panic Room could really make you that desperate for a role ...
Usually, I don't like southern boys. That accent, truthfully, makes people sound really dumb. But Troy, my dear, you can speak to me in Southern all you want. Watching Donald Trump fire you was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Although I can't really forgive your admiration of The Donald, I can forgive you for not getting the $250,000. Please come back to me next season. I don't think I can stand television without you.
Dear Pimp My Ride,
You are the reason I respect MTV more than other three-letter networks such as TNT, USA, PBS and, at times, BET. You not only stress the importance of a fly car with over $20,000 worth of tricked- out stuff over a college education, but you also show those hot guys from West Coast Customs! I thought MTV fell off when they gave Ashton Kutcher his own show, but seeing the smile on people's faces as Xzibit makes fun of their lack of bling makes my own heart smile. Don't ever change.