Last night I watched five hour-long episodes of Locked up Abroad on the National Geographic channel before my TiVo committed suicide again. It keeps making these exasperated sounds (like how I imagine the robot from Short Circuit would squeal if someone was trying to murder him) before it freezes and shuts down, leaving me to scream at the ceiling and rip apart cables with my teeth. Perhaps the rage-induced cable biting is not helping, but if I get electrocuted at least I might pass out and get some sleep.
I thought my insomnia sucked after I got all Courtney Love and had to perform an intervention on myself to get off the Ambien. Insomnia without sleep aids is one thing, but insomnia without TiVo, well that’s just torture. Maybe not Locked up Abroad trying-not-to-drop-the-soap-in-a-communal-cockroach-infested-shower-in-a-Mexican-prison type torture, but still, it’s pretty rough.
I mean what else am I supposed to do with all my time besides feed my new docudrama addiction? I am obsessed with this show. It’s the best thing on TV since Arrested Development got pulled off the air. I can’t just stop watching it and what? Read books? Do something about the worm problem in my garden? Go buy some food so I can stop eating Cool Whip straight from the tub for dinner every night? Psh. I’d have to go outside to do that. Going outside is such a pain. Fresh air is for the birds. All I need is Nat Geo, my freshly Fabreezed couch, and a bucket of light dessert topping – the light part makes it healthy. Is that too much to ask for, God? Really?
Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, Lord. You can stop right now. I’m not going to get all Sara Pallin about my broken TiVo. You’re not going to convince me that I know somewhere deep down in my sleep-deprived soul that my perpetually breaking TiVo is a sign from you, Holy Father, that I am wasting my life and should finish writing my book already and/or build an oil pipeline through Alaska. I won’t even admit it’s a sign you really want me to stop recording two shows an hour before my TV explodes and shoots across the living room, paralyzing me with digital shrapnel.
Listen here, God. I have important work to do and it’s called Learning How to Avoid Becoming a Drug Mule While Traveling Abroad and Educating Myself on Escape Strategies Should I Get Kidnapped by Terrorists and Chained to a Floor in India.
Also, there are 87 upcoming episodes of Magnum P.I. that need to be watched. Who else is going to stay up all night gazing at Sellick’s hairy legs revealed so sexily in his daisy dukes? Who else is going to shun ShamWow! infomercials to investigate my theory that Higgins is wearing a thong under his khakis?
I can ask myself only one question in this dire situation and it’s not why I’m here or what my purpose in life is. Obviously I already know that. What I need to know now is: How do I get my TiVo to stop breaking?
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I might [I'm not going to openly admit to being that me-centric] have done a search for my name amongst all your blog entries. Yes, I just typed the word ‘amongst’ – what of it?
Anyway …what do I find … an entry that reference saran wrap and sara palin. Boo! Boo! I say.