I have never been one of those people who pretend they don’t watch television. I do. I watch lots of it, and I don’t pretend to watch only PBS, though Sesame Street is on much more now that my grandson is around. I really should support public television. Hold on, let me make a donation. (Go to ninenet.org. It took less than five minutes, and now, I have access to all their programming—Sesame Street 24/7.) Anyway, the following are clear signs I need to turn the TV off.
I have started to pay close attention to drug ads. Specifically, I now know if I only take two doses of a drug for a disease I know nothing about, I will look very cute in a swimming suit, smile widely and jump off a dock into a clear lake. OK, there are so many things wrong with this idea. First, I am a hypochondriac, and I am almost certain if I paid attention to whatever the disease was, I would not want it. Also, I won’t jump into my own pool, much less a lake that has snakes, fish and other kinds of monsters lurking beneath the surface.
As many of you know, I am a true crime fanatic. Somehow, I found myself immersed in a show called Buried in the Backyard. The title gives it away, doesn’t it? Well, apparently not to the people searching for the missing person. After three episodes with me screaming, “look in the backyard!” at the TV, it occurred to me that none of these people knew that this horrible event in their life would one day be poorly reenacted and featured on a series titled Buried in the Backyard. Who at the network decided answering the mystery in the title was a good idea?
I am done with the Real Housewives. I love Andy Cohen, the St. Louisan who is the executive producer of these shows, and I watch his show Watch What Happens Live faithfully. But the mean girl stuff has to stop. I know people refer to it as “high school” behavior, but (fortunately) I went to a high school where we didn’t behave that way. And a Glam Squad to do your hair and makeup to go out for drinks? My friends are lucky if I remember mascara and a little bronzer.
I guess the real problem is that our Amazon Fire Stick doesn’t work anymore. We have tried troubleshooting the problem with help from the internet. So far, nothing has worked. Now why is this a problem? Because I don’t remember any of the passwords to our streaming services like Netflix or Hulu, and they are all saved on Amazon. I realize what a whiny little brat you must think I am. And you would be right. But perhaps this is a good thing. I will stop watching so much TV and start … hmmm … I think I have my old writer pal Raschelle convinced to start a podcast with me. Maybe I will do that. Unless one of you readers can fix my Amazon box?