What does it say about the state of my love life/mental state that after tonight’s 30 Rock, I totally want the Beeper King to hold court in my heart? Think about it: he’s an entrepreneur in the pager and coffee vending machine markets, he loves a good nuggie, he always comes back–like a horribly delightful boomerang, and he writes a damn good letter:
Dear Liz Lemon: While other women have bigger boobs than you, no other woman has as big a heart. When I saw you getting ready to go out and get nailed by a bunch of guys last night, I knew for sure it was over between us, and for the first time since the ‘86 World Series, I cried… I cried like a big, dumb homo. And if it was up to me, we’d be together forever. But there’s a new thing called “women’s liberation,” which gives you women the right to choose and you have chosen to abort me, and that I must live with. So tonight, when you arrive home, I’ll be gone. I officially renounce my squatter’s rights. Goodbye and good luck. I’ll never forget you.