I don’t watch a ton of TV. I do have a bunch of shows I DVR and watch religiously like Archer, Tosh.0, Top Shot (I love Colby, and I love his teeth), some cooking shows (farewell, Good Eats, and thank you for really teaching me how to cook like a badass), Doctor Who, Top Gear, some BBC comedies… well, actually, that adds up to a shitload of TV. But hey, when repeats are factored in, it comes to just an hour or two a day at most. Some weeks we watch none at all.
Sometimes, though, I don’t have anything on tap, or I’m just trying to relax for a bit after work, and we’ll surf around and find something to watch. A lot of times it turns out to be odd shit like Mythbusters or What Not To Wear (don’t judge me) or – hey, I said don’t judge me – something like – you know what? Fine. Judge me all you want. I FIND THE SARCASTIC BANTER OF STACY AND CLINTON BOTH WITTY AND URBANE. So there. – or something equally random. It’s during these times that I am forced to see commercials, a vile life form I hate so vociferously that they can literally make me shake with rage. I have a friend who finds it endlessly amusing the gymnastics I’ll go through when diving 16 feet over a table, 2 dogs, a laptop, and couch to snag the remote so I can mute the first non-show sounds I hear. I really hate commercials.
Every now and again, though, I see them with or without sound. Or I’ll be flipping through the guide and notice the titles, and think to myself – what the fuck? Who watches this? Why? Is this country doomed? What follows is a list of some of those shows that make me wonder about or completely lose faith with humanity.
Oh, and if you’re easily offended, skip the “Toddlers & Tiaras” section below. Actually, you’re better off heading off somewhere else in general, but especially with that section.
I am fully aware that sports fandom is a wholly irrational pastime. There is nothing inherently logical about identifying oneself with a group of strangers who wear a particular uniform. “Cheering for laundry” and all that. I get it. But just because my logical brain recognizes and acknowledges this doesn’t mean that the lizard brain way in the back doesn’t get its way. I go nearly insane about my chosen type of laundry. There is something else, though, beyond my deep-seated rooting for the Washington Redskins. That is my hatred for the Dallas Cowboys.
I fucking hate the Dallas Fucking Cowboys.
Thanks to everyone who made a suggestion. It’s really nice when people come out to lend a hand, suggesting awful things for another person to perform for their amusement as they bask in the glow of another’s failure. I appreciate it, and that’s not even being said sarcastically.
I’ve decided on the Humiliation that will happen if I fail. To quote the author of Blood Skies and its sequel Black Scars, Steven Montano:
If you fail, you’ll have to attend the opening of the new TWILIGHT movie.
You have to go dressed up as Edward…wearing an Edward tee-shirt…and with Edward glitter on your face.
I believe the film opens in November, so you’ll get a full month-and-a-half to look forward to the experience. =D
I’ll even go one better. If I fail my goal of 15,000 words by October 1st, then I will attend the opening of the new Twilight movie wearing my wife’s Team Edward t-shirt (she’s a lot smaller than me, so I think it’ll end up as a belly shirt [shudder]), black skin-tight pleather pants, knee-high boots, body glitter, vampire teeth, and eye makeup. The event will be filmed (although probably not by my wife, who I imagine will be holding her hands over her eyes for 4 straight hours as she shakes her head at me). The film will be posted on YouTube. I will want to eat glass until I die. I may get arrested as a suspected pedo.
The good news for me is that I can prevent it by finishing those 15k words. The good news for you is that I am currently behind on the pace I need to do it.
And for suggesting the “winning” Humiliation, Steven will get a free copy of The Storm of Northreach when it’s done. Of course, he was already getting a free copy of it, so it’s kind’ve anticlimactic, but I will also send him a SIGNED COPY in paperback. So, you know, there’s that.
Hidey ho. For the past few days, I’ve been contemplating new blog posts. My last one, though, is a hard one to follow. I’ve struggled with writing some pointless angry rant about flip-flops or some other equally stupid shit when the last thing I wrote here was a heartfelt and painful goodbye to a friend I wasn’t ready to lose just yet. It just didn’t feel right to me. I’m sure if Carl was here, he’d insist that I write some stupid piece of shit drivel because that’s what I do, and he wouldn’t want me to change.
So I’m trying. It’ll be drivel, no doubt, and useless, but it’ll be something, at least. Read the rest of this entry →