Home time recap
We got to spend a nice long while at home this time, thanks to the slow freight and Uriah. It was like a mini vacation. Now here we are, only about 90 miles out from home, and we have to shut down because the road is slick, watching people busts their asses on the icy parking lot of the truck stop. Gotta love trucking.
So, how did I take advantage of all that time at home? Did I clean out those cabinets that have been begging for relief? Did I attack that room that has all the crap dumped in it? Did I rake the leaves in the yard? Did I paint the deck? Did I do any of a hundred things that have been left undone for far too long?
You know the answer. Nope. I did nary a damned thing. As usual.
With the exception of a lunch date with my mom, I didn’t leave the house. I was captured once again by the television. When I’m on the road, I don’t watch any television at all; don’t even have one in the truck. It’s a pretty rare event for me to even watch a DVD on the computer these days. I get to feeling like I’m not addicted to TV at all. Then I go home and — BOOM! It has me in its brightly-colored thrall.
In pretty short order, I watched all the shows that TiVO saved for me while I was gone. There wasn’t much, thanks to Christmas. So this left me with lots of time for new shows. I wish I could say that I found some extraordinary new shows, programs that enlightened and educated me. Not so much. But that’s not the TV’s fault. For all I know, the airwaves were teeming with good stuff. I just didn’t watch it.
I wasted two entire Sundays watching “America’s Next Top Model” marathons on Oxygen. I shouldn’t like this kind of show. But I can’t seem to help myself. My favorite part of the show is when the girls go before the judging panel. There’s as much BS thrown around in that room as in Washington. One week they’ll tell a girl she needs to be more confident and out-going, then the next, they’ll tell her she’s arrogant and obnoxious. Tyra and pals say profound things like “You’ve got to feel it inside” when telling a girl that her picture sucked, the picture where the girl was supposed to be a rock slide.
The poor underfed girls weep and moan and try to figure out what they’re doing wrong, trying to obey the suggestions of the panel. I feel kind of badly for them, since there’s really nothing to figure out.
There were a variety of other silly shows I watched, but I got the feeling I was sinking pretty low when I spent this last Saturday watching a marathon on Bravo, “The Real Housewives of Orange County.” I know this show has been on a long time, and that it has been spun off into Atlanta and New York, because I watch other shows on Bravo and have seen the ads. I just always refused to watch the housewives. I figured I should draw the line somewhere, and this was where I was going to draw it. But now that’s blown and I know all about Jeanna, and Vickie and Tamara, and whatever the names of the other two are. I like Jeanna, hate Vickie, think Tamara’s a narcissistic bitch (but funny sometimes) … god, I need help. I actually considered TiVO’ing this show.
Thank god for going back on the road. If weren’t for my leaving, I just don’t know what might happen to me. I would need some sort of trashy TV intervention. I say this because the lowest point happened right before I left home.
While we were finishing getting stuff together and doing the last bit of dishes, etc., I was, simultaneously, actually watching “The Rock of Love Bus with Brett Michaels” on VH1. I know. You don’t have to say it. Even I can’t believe how low I’ve sunk. I just don’t know what to say. There’s something about that fake-ass long hair hanging out from under that middle-aged man’s bandana … mesmerizing. I spent the whole time waiting for one of the bowling-ball-boobed girls, in a throe of faked passion, to pull the entire fiasco off the guy’s head.
I need help.