Operation Hot Brother 4.0, aka Motherboy XXXVII

Oh, happy day! It’s really here–it’s not a Home Fill!

Okay, if you read the title of this post and got it, then we are friends for life. If you were like, “What the…?”, then erase my phone number from your memory (with a forget-me-now if you must)–we have no chance at being soul mates. Or hermanos. Or brotheros for that matter.

Last night at 12:01 a.m. EST, Ryan and I were laying in bed, refreshing Netflix over and over. At about 12:05 a.m. EST, we decided to double-check online for Arrested Development‘s Season Four release time. Turns out The O.C. (don’t call it that) viewers won out, and we were sad sacks (cue Charlie Brown music) as the release was set for Pacific Standard Time. Bah. It was the first time since E.V. was born that I really felt like, “Aw, crap. We have a kid and can’t stay up all night.” But I suppose I love her more than I love Arrested Development. (Her?)

Since our final countdown was pushed back until this morning, it did give me a little time to think about restraint. I so desperately want to just marathon this whole season out, but now that I didn’t get to watch it right away anyway, we’re committed to dragging out the experience at least a little bit. (Although these first few catch-up episodes are making me eager for the cadence of previous seasons to set back in.) I’ll hold my opinions for conversations with those true friends of mine who are fans of the Bluths, but for everyone else in my life, if you call and I don’t answer, assume I’m glued to my Netflix for the next few weeks. (At least until I’ve memorized Season Four aptly.)

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