On my ride in to work yesterday morning, I had a gnawing feeling that it was a special day. A famous day in history or someones birthday. A day that needed celebration! I thought about it for a minute and then it hit me- it was Dana Scully’s birthday!
How the fuck did I remember that, I’ll pretend you asked?
Well, I used to be embarrassingly obsessed with The X-files. Like forced my elementary school friends to call me ‘Spooky’ obsessed. Paraded around in pantsuits at eleven years of age obsessed. Read poorly written NC-17 fan fiction during the beginning days of household Internet obsessed. Lulled myself to sleep night after night with dreams of Mulder and Scully taking off those dismal 90’s suits and gettin’ busy obsessed.
I had every episode on tape. Every book, every magazine, every newspaper clipping about the show was neatly pressed in binders. I built a shrine to The X-files in my childhood bedroom equipped with posters, action figures, and makeshift FBI badges and guns.