I'm kind of done with Twin Peaks now

Because I am of the age that Kyle Machlachlan was Charlotte's husband on Sex and the City, I decided to try and watch Twin Peaks.  After one or two episodes I started to wonder if it was indeed supposed to be hilarious.  
Per Wikipedia "Twin Peaks is consistent with Lynch's work as a whole in that it is not easily placed within an established genre. Its unsettling tone and supernatural features are consistent with horror films, but its campy, melodramatic portrayal of quirky characters engaged in morally dubious activities reflects a bizarrely comical parody of American soap operas. Like the rest of Lynch's oeuvre, the show represents an earnest moral inquiry distinguished by both weird humor and a deep vein of surrealism."
I've seen Mulholland Drive and Naked Lunch.  I went to a Salvador Dali exhibit in Bruges.  My favourite movie - My Dinner with Andre - while not Surrealist, makes several references to Surrealism.  I confess to not being able to make it through Pynchon's Gravity's Rainbow.
I'm not sure how to adequately phrase this except that I am growing increasingly tired of Twin Peaks (even when baked) because it feels like a joke that's gone on too long:  the cutaway shots to the ongoing soap opera that some of the characters are watching that is just as outlandish as Twin Peaks itself; Cooper's constant fascination with coffee and pie; the protracted and lingering camera shots zooming in on characters' faces and they struggle with the eternal question "did I leave one of my stove elements on this morning?".
I get it: it's a play on contemporary culture; it rips on soap operas; it has the world's most fucked up dream sequence (massive prequel to Mulholland Drive); the background music is almost a living character; it's eerie; it's the paradigm of absurdity.
I kind of don't care and I'm not sure if I should care.  The "earnest moral inquiry" has been displaced by the sheer sense of over acting and oddness which I guess is part of the very point, except Naked Lunch didn't go on for hours and hours and I almost think I derived more meaning out of the anus cockroach typewriters than I did from Cooper throwing rocks with his eyes closed at milk bottles in an effort to divine who killed Laura Palmer.
In conclusion: I feel Surrealism loses its lustre after about three or four hours.

In other news.  Had a catastrophic communication failure today, but was able to be proactive and resolve it without throwing Michael's Ghost bicyclette over the balcony (which I told him that I did - he's away right now - and that it bounced up "like a foot when it hit Eastern Avenue").  See: I am a funny girl.  Who wouldn't want to marry me, really?
Also had a two hour strata meeting which was as surreal as anything one could ever hope for.  All that was missing was an anus typewriter and a really, really good cup of coffee.

UPDATE: I just realized I don't like Surrealism because it just takes too long to get to the goddamn point and I'm a pretty succinct person.  Cough (Modernism).

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