catheroominations

I’m at home with a fever today, so I am watching One Tree Hill on SoapNet. Because I love intelligent programming. I have some issues with this show.

1) Are these people really supposed to be in HIGH SCHOOL?
2) And if they are in HIGH SCHOOL, how is it that one couple is married? MARRIED?!? In HIGH SCHOOL? Anyway, the married dude is pissed because his wife left to go on tour with Michelle Branch and some other singer, along with a guy she kissed (oh! the drama!) So the husband is mad (obv), and he throws a keyboard (the musical kind, not the computer kind) at the wall to demolish their wedding photo, and of course it breaks, and shatters everything in its path. He can’t feel better after doing this because now he’s still pissed (even moreso) and he has a huge mess to clean up. And since wifey left him, who’s going to clean up the mess? Yeah. Bet he feels better now. But he does not cry. Because he is a MAN! A 16-year old man! Also, he should have sold his runaway wife’s keyboard on eBay or something so he’d have some money to buy more video games.

And I’m not even going to mention the boy who has a baby and DOES NOT HAVE HEALTH INSURANCE. Was the baby born in the back of Daddy’s Tercel? Doesn’t birthing a baby cost a fortune? More importantly, don’t these kids have parents to teach them how not to be idiots? Or a trust fund of some kind to pay for medical insurance? What kind of teen drama is this anyway? Where’s Dylan McKay when you need him?

Now I am researching this fabulous waste of time by wasting even more time reading IMDB. Apparently, the married couple wed in their junior year. Then the wife bailed for life on the road, and when she returned to reality, they reconciled. Oh, and on the night of high school graduation, they welcomed their first baby. These kids today!

By the way, I thought these kids looked a little old. That’s because the guy playing the keyboard-throwing husband who is a junior in high school is also TWENTY years old. And his brother Nathan, also in high school, is a 24-year old junior in high school. Perhaps Tree Hill, NC should re-assess their faculty or curriculum. I’m terrible at math, but even I can figure out that someone who is 24 and a junior in high school is definitely a taco short of a combination plate.

Wow. I need something more intellectual to occupy my time before my brain turns to oatmeal. Good thing Days of Our Lives starts in 10 minutes. In HD, no less.

NaBloPoMo bites. If I were not forced to post every day, I might post something insightful. As it is, I am putting up this post just to meet my deadline.

I now give you my latest TV obsessions:

Dexter. Are you not watching this show? What is WRONG with you? I never was attracted to the sweet and gay David Fisher on Six Feet Under (Nate is another story). But when Michael C. Hall plays a serial killer? Damn HOT. For serious. (This does worry me a bit. That I find a killer sexy.)

The Biggest Loser. I’ve said it before and yada yada, but really. These people inspire me. I watch them work their assess off (literally) and it makes me think I can and will complete a half marathon in a few short months.

Grey’s Anatomy. If they could just DO SOMETHING with Meredith. She bugs. And I don’t want Izzy and George sleeping together. But other than that, I love the characters, the story lines, the soundtrack. When they run out of episodes, I will be sad.

How I Met Your Mother. I love this show. The humor is intelligent, and gets away with many dirty jokes. And I love that. I hope they never tell us who Your Mother is, because I love the search.

Project Runway. OMG. Designing something for SJP’s Bitten line? Could they BE more excited? I don’t have a strong favorite, but Spit-marking Elisa bugs. I’m sure she’ll go far in the competition and they are just editing her to be a freak. It makes for better TV. I envy Monique L’huillier’s haircolor. Also? I love Tim Gunn with the heat of a thousand suns. (OK, not like that, but I want him to fix me and the crap in my closet.)

Saturday Night Live. Which is no longer airing on Saturdays, nor is it live these days. The writer’s strike has put the kaibosh on it. If you gave up on this show long ago, go back to it, when/if it returns. They have some excellent writers (now on strike) and never fail to make me laugh. Amy Pohler is my hero and Kristin Wiig kills me with her one-upper character and one of the Two A-Holes.

Damages. I know it’s over for the season but, DUDE. This show is like a feature film every week. The suspense is insane. The way they separate flashbacks from present day is ingenious and gritty and oh so good. Catch it in reruns, or rent DVDs so you’ll be ready for next season. It’s raw and nail-biting and just plain awesome. Glenn Close plays a raging bitch. (What else is new?)

Now I need to go eat some pizza and drink some beer because it’s Saturday.

Because then maybe I’d be given one of these fabulous outfits on her Favorite Things episode.

Seriously. Are they not fugly? Who would look good in one of these? I would look like a 3 ft 8 inch-tall mushroom, I think. Or a sausage.

I canNOT believe I almost let this day go by without notice. How could I be so forgetful? Wow. I’m usually the one who remembers every significant day, every anniversary, birthday, “first-time-I-ever” whatevered. But today, I’ll admit. I forgot. And I am ashamed. Had I not read your sweet “Happy Anniversary” e-mail, this special day might have slipped by like any other.

It seems like we’ve been together forever, but I know that it has only been three (maybe four?) years. I can’t remember life before you. No. That’s a lie. I do remember it. It pretty much sucked. I was missing out on so much before you. You broadened my horizons and taught me to like so many new things that I would never have found without you. From the start, I could turn to when I was lonely, sad, and even when I was bored. Today, you are still, always there for me. Ever faithful and reliable.

I remember when we first met, we spent SO much time together. I loved how you greeted me when I walked through my door after a long day at wotk, the sound of your voice was so inviting and cheerful. We spent many a late night together too, and sometimes I would curse you when I awoke the next morning to go to work. It seemed I was addicted to you, and I know you were turned on too. You were always ready for me. Shoot. I don’t think I could even turn you off. Is that possible?

My sweet, adorable one. Thank you for reminding me (by automated e-mail…so what?) of the day you came into my life. To you I say, “kiss kiss sweet nothing mushy mushy, my little schmoopsie-kins.”

And soon, it will be gone from my life. We kept it this long to finish out The Sopranos, but we’re dumping it. We only watch it maybe 2 hours a week, so it’s become one of those high effort, low reward type of things. (The high effort being the outrageous fee for 65 HBO channels with 37 Showtimes thrown in.)

So now, I think I need a dog to entertain me. A dog like this one.

keep reading It wasn’t TV, it was HBO

I don’t get to see a lot of Kentucky Wildcat basketball here in California, and as this is California, we don’t get a lot of sports news about Kentucky either. So when I saw Big Blue would play the Tennessee Volunteers, and would air today, I set the DVR to record it. In high-definition, no less. I watched part of the game while it recorded, then went out to see my boyfriend Joe (Trader Joe, that is), confident that my magic box would record the rest of the game for me to watch when I returned.

I arrived home from TJ’s, put away my groceries, popped a frozen Thai green curry entree into the microwave, and turned on the TV and Comcast DVR to watch the recorded game.

I fast-forwarded to the end of the part I had already watched and listened to the game while feeding the cats as my dinner spun around in the microwave. Suddenly, Kentucky was down by 3 and the game was almost over. Whoa.

Just as I started to head to the TV to rewind what had just happened, I heard…nothing. Silence. What? Where did it go? Momentary satellite loss? No picture either. Just dark. Then, just as quickly, the audio and video both came back on, but the channel had switched to the local news coverage. Wha? Who changed the channel? I was the only one home. The remote was on the coffeetable, and the cats were in the kitchen, their heads shoved into their food receptacles.

Why? What? Huh?

I ferociously pushed buttons on the remote to take me to the DVR screen that showed my recordings and fast-forwarded through the game to nearly the end. I hit play and watched as the clock ticked down. There it was, 84 to 81, Tennessee. And then? This:

It just STOPPED recording after 112 minutes. WHILE THE GAME WAS STILL PLAYING IN REGULATION. Mind you, the game was on the Comcast schedule from 4 pm to 6 pm. That means 120 minutes (I’m not good at math, but I think that’s right). Yet, the recorder let me down. Instead of living up to its promise of 2 hours, it decided to stop 8 minutes early. Just when there was a mere 29.5 seconds left, and the ‘Cats were down by three points.

I am very disappointed in you, Comcast.

Kentucky lost, by the way (sigh).