Dear LOST,
I am writing to inform you that I am physically unable to wait for February for you to return to me. Without you, where will I find my daily dose of really crazy, inexplicably fucked up shit? (Seriouly, polar bears.. giant black smoke fists..what else do you call that?)
I am writing to inform you that you will be replaced as my main televised addiction by the mightly Scrubs as of November 30th, but and even though I do share a love for this program, there will be times when my frustration will shine through and fear not... I will curse the amount of days until you return safe and sound to that glowing box responsible for many a killed brain cells and future requirements of laser eye surgery.
I beg of you, please come back to us soon.
Sincerely,
Oh man, I need to get out more.
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