Me and the Idiot Box
I've been spending too much time with Mommy... I mean TV.
Today as I was sitting in front of the television watching a rerun of Roseanne,
sippin' on my 20 oz. Citra Cola, shoveling chip after salsa-con-queso
covered chip into my cake hole (that's my mouth, by the way), I thought
to myself, "You know, if I could manage to get myself out of bed by 3
p.m. every day [this was seriously a challenge], I'd be up just in time
for Northern Exposure reruns on A&E from 3 to 4, and then at 4 o'clock watch syndicated Roseanne on TBS, from 5 o'clock to 6 o'clock, Golden Girls reruns on Lifetime, Simpsons at 6, and then top it all of at 7 o'clock with a Seinfeld rerun. Why, I could have my whole evening planned out for me!"
This thought only lasted for a second, though, before I realized how sad it was. "My God," I thought, "has my life sunk to this level? Have I truly become this pathetic?" I know what you may think, that this poor boy is living day to day off of television. But that's not even the part that depressed me. The saddest part is that all of these television shows are syndicated reruns of sitcoms! I can see living off of television, if it's somehow enlightening -- Documentaries, shows about sharks and nazi's, as my friend puts it. But every one of these: mind numbing sitcoms. It occurs to me that I now have two options. I could just scream "SCREW YOU WORLD, AND YOUR STANDARDS," strap on the expandable sweat pants, grab a soda and find another salt-based snack, and plop down in front of the television just in time to spend an hour with Dorothy, Blanch, Rose, and lovable old Sophia, or I could make some sort attempt to get out of the house. The latter probably the wiser.
This thought only lasted for a second, though, before I realized how sad it was. "My God," I thought, "has my life sunk to this level? Have I truly become this pathetic?" I know what you may think, that this poor boy is living day to day off of television. But that's not even the part that depressed me. The saddest part is that all of these television shows are syndicated reruns of sitcoms! I can see living off of television, if it's somehow enlightening -- Documentaries, shows about sharks and nazi's, as my friend puts it. But every one of these: mind numbing sitcoms. It occurs to me that I now have two options. I could just scream "SCREW YOU WORLD, AND YOUR STANDARDS," strap on the expandable sweat pants, grab a soda and find another salt-based snack, and plop down in front of the television just in time to spend an hour with Dorothy, Blanch, Rose, and lovable old Sophia, or I could make some sort attempt to get out of the house. The latter probably the wiser.