We’re spending most of the day curled up in a ball and crying over the end of 30 Rock while binge reading every article we can find about the show and suggest you do the same:

• The Clicker | ‘30 Rock’s’ 30 best guest stars
• Los Angeles Times | ’30 Rock’ just got better
• Flavorwire | 100 of the Best Quotes from ‘30 Rock’
• AV Club | How 30 Rock’s well-plotted final season echoes The Mary Tyler Moore Show
• AV Club | “A Goon’s Deed In A Weary World” review
• AV Club | 10 episodes that show how 30 Rock tweaked the sitcom formula
• Think Progress | Liz Lemon’s White Guilt, The Black Crusaders, and Grizz and Dot Com: Why ’30 Rock’ Mattered On Race

I’m not sure what all of you think, but this season of 30 Rock has been so on point for me.

Poorly lit dressing room.

There were at least two Lost references on two separate NBC shows last night: Community and 30 Rock.  I suppose just being Josh Holloway at this point is a Lost reference right? Do you think he will ever live down the Sawyer character? Probably not until he plays against the Sawyer type which he didn’t do last night.  Who cares, though, right? I loved him as The Man in Black, I mean the Black Rider. I wonder if the title of the character was a reference to the Tom Waits album of the same name?

Then in the season finale of 30 Rock (which was better than the last few episodes, but still not great which I’m kinda sad about.) there was a Lost moment with Kenneth.  “Give me more time, Jacob!  I beg of you!”

Seven Minutes in Heaven: Kathy Geiss

You know that moment when you know the worst possible situation could occur, and when it happens, it’s still trauma-inducing? That’s how I felt when the bottle landed on Kathy Geiss and I knew I had seven minutes of gag reflexes being tested. And not in the good way. 

As I sat in the closet, she immediately sat in an enclosed corner on the other side of the room where I thanked the universe for a brief moment where I didn’t think we would have to touch. But as soon as her eyes locked on mine, she got up and grabbed my hand to lead me back to the corner with her. Her hand was not moist as I suspected it would be. No, it was dry and flaking, and just like her hand had left visible dead skin on mine her scalp had also left visible flakes on her shoulder pads. 

She sat down in a way that she made it obvious I was supposed to sit next to her. I swallowed my breath/pride/sanity and just allowed this to happen with a promise that I would drink bleach that evening. I sat next to her. It smelled damp. Then the most beautiful evidence of God appeared - a picture of Mark Wahlberg. She wanted us to not kiss each other, but this picture. I looked at her smiling, and she then spit out not one, but two tubes of chapstick, for each of us. Her kiss to the picture was tender - sweet, even. She engorged his face and I realized I was going to have to kiss the abs. Her saliva fell down the photograph and I wiped off part of it with my hand that I would burn later. I kiss the photo. It wasn’t great, but it was a kiss of gratitude, not love. 

The seven minutes were up and I offered a hand to help her up (the same hand with the saliva on it - I was planning on burning it later anyway), she refused. And started to undress. I sensed the moment and excused myself to live life to the fullest.