Huh?

Me watching "Lost"

Flash-sideways.  Parallel universes.  Oy vey.  Talk about lost.  Like a lunatic, I spend all Tuesday preparing for the season premiere of "Lost."  This is the sixth and final season of my favorite show.  EVER.  I want to be ready.  I want to be a little less confused.  Ha.  So I revisit the Season Five Finale.  I re-read Doc Jensen's theories on Entertainment Weekly's fab and addictive website.  I warm up like an athlete, preparing my brain for all the hurdles and mind-benders up ahead.  At 8 p.m., I begin my long-awaited (eight months of waiting!) journey.  I board my flight to god-knows-where.  The first hour offers a tempting overview, in the unlikely event that prospective fans might care to enter the crazy end zone of "Lost," this late in the game. 

 (Check me out.  Short Jewish Gal makes a sports reference.  A winky-wink at the upcoming Super Bowl.  This will be the only sports reference I make.)  At 9 p.m., the real fun kicks in.  (Whoops. Last one.) It looks like the re-boot of time has worked.  We're on Oceanic 815.  There's Jack.  There's Rose.  There's scary-ass, oh-no-we're-gonna-crash turbulence.  There's no freakin' crash.  Woo-hoo!  They're alive!  Oh.  But wait, where the H-bomb are we now?  Under the sea?  The Island is under the sea?  As my close friend Tina Fey might say, what the what?   Fine.  I'll go with it.  What choice do I have?  For the next two hours of blissful confusion, we move sideways between two parallel worlds.  I'm up half the night trying to figure it out.  And now, I'm all over the Internet, watching the exec producers of "Lost" pontificate on "Nightline" and "Jimmy Kimmel."  I'm reading dissertation-length analyses of last night's premiere.  I'm exhausted.  Frantic.  Over my head.  Again!  And luvin' it.