Diary of Bitterness and Shame
Every time I take a long break from the blogging, I make the same tired excuses. I'm too grumpy. I'm too tired. I'm too lame. I'm too overwhelmed. Well, whatever. Here I am again, back out of hiding. Basically, I listen to way too much news and talk radio. I need to follow the example of The Unseen One and turn it all off. Because right now, I'm almost entirely Mormon. Or at least my basement is becoming so, as I actually begin to stockpile dried foods and water because of Glenn Beck's constant heralding of World War III. Also, my beloved Douglas Cat, who is 14 years young, has just gone through major surgery. Because I do not have children, this is more important to me that it should be. (Or so people with children tell me.) On top of that, I'm in a sustained pattern of "angry at my spousal unit", here on the very eve of our 10th anniversary. Lucky he has no desire to read my blog. That might be part of the problem. If he had a blog, I'd want to read it. In fact, it would be compulsory. Because I desire to know about him. But after 10 years of him knowing very little about me, my desire to know him is waning. Today, a certain Dr. Phil, who I NEVER watch, said this: "The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior." With regard to my prime relationship, just shy of 10 years, this hit home a little too hard.
Which brings me to my main point:
I am embarrassed. I am completely and utterly shamed by my entertainment habits. Today, as you now know, I watched Dr. Phil. How low will I sink? One would think that my choices for entertainment would be at least approximately commensurate with my level of intellect and education. But such is not the case. (Perhaps I'm neglecting the possibility that my level of intellect is, in fact, indicated by that with which I choose to amuse myself. What a frightening notion!) Tonight, while listening to the significant other snore at a competitive level despite years of begging for a solution, I began to channel surf. I'll admit it. I was feeling pretty low right then. Pretty low. This unfettered snoring is an outrageously accurate metaphor for our whole relationship. But then I came across America's Funniest Videos. Naturally, I stopped because there was a video of people "fishing for squirrels". That is, tying peanuts to fishing line to make squirrels jump and run. This, I found mildly amusing. Then, a video of people falling down, mostly because they were adults doing things they ought not. This is where it gets ugly. I went from near total despair to hilarious laughing in a nanosecond. Uproarious laughter peppered with a bit of rooting for the playground equipment responsible for the groin pain of grown men. Hilarious uproarity when the fakely-smiling cheerleader tumbles from atop a precarious pyramid. And most of all, hootin' and hollerin' when some dude walks into a pole. Suddenly, I'm happy again, if only briefly.
It's then that it occurs to me: This is obviously my next blog entry. Let's get ourselves a glass of wine and write it out. It will make us feel better. Just as the royal "we" does. So we dragged our feet to the fridge for a wee glass of of Sauvignon Blanc (our favorite white wine when we are feeling low), and then we proceeded to the computer. And here we are.
I feel it is important to mention that I have just returned from a week of pottery camp, which I attend every year. For one week, I heard no cars, I saw no TV, and heard no radio or husband snoring. Only had the conversation of like-minded, if irretrievably liberal, friends and geese and clay. (The geese are practically Communists, but for a few ideological concerns about power corrupting and blah blah blah.) Re-entry into traffic world is SUPER hard.
Back to the matter at hand. Thanks to the timely information of Kelly, I am the proud holder of tickets to a Buffy Cabaret tomorrow night (tonight, actually). My God, I bought tickets to a Buffy Cabaret. Not surprising, really, since at this time of year, I watch a Buffy episode almost every night. I'm not going in costume. Sadly, this is only because I have been away and have not had time to concoct one. So, not only do I attain disproportionate levels of glee from people falling down, but also from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, of which I am a certified obsessive. One who remains fully in love with the Spike of season six. Let's look at what else occupies my down time.
I love reality TV. Survivor, The Amazing Race, Big Brother, Rock Star, and, my disturbing favorite, Dancing with the Stars. It's not bad enough that I watch Dancing with the Stars. It's far worse that I am actually concerned about Mario Lopez not yet finding favor with the judges.
I don't get enough with my faithful viewing of American Idol, so I have watched, via YouTube, every entrant in the 2006 Eurovision thingy. My only defense is that it was educational. I learned that Eurovision sucks, real hard. I thought the entry from my beloved Slovenia was bad, until I watched the entry from Ireland. It's hard to believe that the country that brought us U2 also brought us the insipid Brian Kennedy. There are no words.
I taped tonight's new episode of Spongebob. I taped it. Do you hear this? I taped it, so I could watch it later. I hope it has Plankton, because he's my favorite. I care about this. It's funny 'cause he's small and maniacal. Funny.
Add to all of the junk that I watch on TV that I have Starbuck's coffe almost every day and listen to movie soundtracks, especially The Scarlet Letter and anything composed by Rachel Portman. Put it all together, and to the casual observer, I am a giant cliche of an underachiever. I spend my time unwisely and am a big, giant, underachieving grump.
Be sure to stay tuned for tomorrow's entry: "Everything is Horrible." It'll be that or, "Why Can't I Get a Decent Glass of Iced Tea?". Depends upon how minute I'm feeling.
And last, a RARE blog P.S.--- Numerous listenings have made me completely enamoured of my gay homeboy Anzej Dezan of Slovenia. If anyone knows how to get that song as an MP3, please let me know. I'm SO not kidding. Maybe it's honest admiration, or maybe just my great love of the Motherland, but I must have that song playing in my car.
Which brings me to my main point:
I am embarrassed. I am completely and utterly shamed by my entertainment habits. Today, as you now know, I watched Dr. Phil. How low will I sink? One would think that my choices for entertainment would be at least approximately commensurate with my level of intellect and education. But such is not the case. (Perhaps I'm neglecting the possibility that my level of intellect is, in fact, indicated by that with which I choose to amuse myself. What a frightening notion!) Tonight, while listening to the significant other snore at a competitive level despite years of begging for a solution, I began to channel surf. I'll admit it. I was feeling pretty low right then. Pretty low. This unfettered snoring is an outrageously accurate metaphor for our whole relationship. But then I came across America's Funniest Videos. Naturally, I stopped because there was a video of people "fishing for squirrels". That is, tying peanuts to fishing line to make squirrels jump and run. This, I found mildly amusing. Then, a video of people falling down, mostly because they were adults doing things they ought not. This is where it gets ugly. I went from near total despair to hilarious laughing in a nanosecond. Uproarious laughter peppered with a bit of rooting for the playground equipment responsible for the groin pain of grown men. Hilarious uproarity when the fakely-smiling cheerleader tumbles from atop a precarious pyramid. And most of all, hootin' and hollerin' when some dude walks into a pole. Suddenly, I'm happy again, if only briefly.
It's then that it occurs to me: This is obviously my next blog entry. Let's get ourselves a glass of wine and write it out. It will make us feel better. Just as the royal "we" does. So we dragged our feet to the fridge for a wee glass of of Sauvignon Blanc (our favorite white wine when we are feeling low), and then we proceeded to the computer. And here we are.
I feel it is important to mention that I have just returned from a week of pottery camp, which I attend every year. For one week, I heard no cars, I saw no TV, and heard no radio or husband snoring. Only had the conversation of like-minded, if irretrievably liberal, friends and geese and clay. (The geese are practically Communists, but for a few ideological concerns about power corrupting and blah blah blah.) Re-entry into traffic world is SUPER hard.
Back to the matter at hand. Thanks to the timely information of Kelly, I am the proud holder of tickets to a Buffy Cabaret tomorrow night (tonight, actually). My God, I bought tickets to a Buffy Cabaret. Not surprising, really, since at this time of year, I watch a Buffy episode almost every night. I'm not going in costume. Sadly, this is only because I have been away and have not had time to concoct one. So, not only do I attain disproportionate levels of glee from people falling down, but also from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, of which I am a certified obsessive. One who remains fully in love with the Spike of season six. Let's look at what else occupies my down time.
I love reality TV. Survivor, The Amazing Race, Big Brother, Rock Star, and, my disturbing favorite, Dancing with the Stars. It's not bad enough that I watch Dancing with the Stars. It's far worse that I am actually concerned about Mario Lopez not yet finding favor with the judges.
I don't get enough with my faithful viewing of American Idol, so I have watched, via YouTube, every entrant in the 2006 Eurovision thingy. My only defense is that it was educational. I learned that Eurovision sucks, real hard. I thought the entry from my beloved Slovenia was bad, until I watched the entry from Ireland. It's hard to believe that the country that brought us U2 also brought us the insipid Brian Kennedy. There are no words.
I taped tonight's new episode of Spongebob. I taped it. Do you hear this? I taped it, so I could watch it later. I hope it has Plankton, because he's my favorite. I care about this. It's funny 'cause he's small and maniacal. Funny.
Add to all of the junk that I watch on TV that I have Starbuck's coffe almost every day and listen to movie soundtracks, especially The Scarlet Letter and anything composed by Rachel Portman. Put it all together, and to the casual observer, I am a giant cliche of an underachiever. I spend my time unwisely and am a big, giant, underachieving grump.
Be sure to stay tuned for tomorrow's entry: "Everything is Horrible." It'll be that or, "Why Can't I Get a Decent Glass of Iced Tea?". Depends upon how minute I'm feeling.
And last, a RARE blog P.S.--- Numerous listenings have made me completely enamoured of my gay homeboy Anzej Dezan of Slovenia. If anyone knows how to get that song as an MP3, please let me know. I'm SO not kidding. Maybe it's honest admiration, or maybe just my great love of the Motherland, but I must have that song playing in my car.
posted by Kristine at 1:46 AM
7 comments
