Last night I began a conversation with a co-worker with one the most reliable moves in my chatting repertoire.

“So…Do you watch 30 Rock?”

“Actually, I just started watching it recently,” she replied.

And just like that, I underwent an uncontrollable physiologically reaction and began to cry because that’s appropriate workplace behavior.

Not big, messy tears. Rather the tears that just fill your eyes and yet still completely betray the fact that you’re on the verge of a fullblown meltdown, heaving, snotting, you know, the works.

“You. Are. So. Lucky,” I said, blinking furiously. “You get to experience each episode for the first time.”

I have a long history of inexplicably crying at inopportune moments—a certain college admissions interview comes to mind. This crying jag, I fear, spouted from somewhere deeper. 30 Rock means a lot to me. Over the years, its made me laugh so hard and totally boggled my mind with its brilliance. As this last season comes to a close, I’m grieving  like Liz Lemon after she realizes Sandwich Day is over and not coming again for another year. But this time Sandwich Day will never come again. Ever. [Read more...]