Sorry I’ve been so MIA, guys. I’ve been really, really busy. I am exhausted. Every night I’m up way past my bedtime (like 10 PM!) and even my weekends are jam packed. It’s rough, but I don’t know what else to do. The TV ain’t gonna watch itself.
I am on a bender of epic proportions. Over the course of the last 2 weeks I’ve been tearing through a box set of The Wire DVD’s so fast you’d think I’d just been diagnosed with one week til I go blind. Before that started, I crammed all three seasons of Breaking Bad over the course of about the same time period. That is one full month of binging on high-quality, drug-related cable entertainment. Not only has this convinced me that, despite my overabundance of street smarts, ruthlessness and chemistry knowledge, I might not quite have what it takes to be a drug kingpin, it has also forced me to consider a much more serious issue: I am legitimately addicted to watching television.
As a connoisseur of television, both highbrow and ABC Family Channel, and a former resident of Bodymore Murderland, many people are surprised to hear I’m just now starting The Wire – a show which is considered by many (or at least this one guy I found on the internet) to be the Greatest Scripted Drama of All Time. The show had long since gone off the air by the time I had access to HBO, but I could have easily gotten my hands on the DVD’s. I stayed away for as long as I could, I knew what would happen. As soon as I got my first taste I’d be hooked.
And here we are. Like a true addict, The Wire is all-consuming. I’m either watching or thinking about watching or talking about watching. I have an actual schedule – a schedule! – 3 hours a night on weeknights and as many as humanly possible on weekends. Last Tuesday I went to the gym for the first time in weeks, and quit after 15 minutes on the treadmill because I was worried about making it home in time to watch that night’s scheduled programming. Can’t get behind with these things! On Friday night I stayed in – I told my friends it was to “save money” which actually meant “I have to lay in my dark bedroom and watch 9 hours of this TV show that aired in 2003.” My roommate was also in for the evening and I almost slapped her across the face at the suggestion we watch a movie together. Who does this bitch think she is, trying to keep me away from my TV?!?! She’s a dear friend of mine and we’ll soon be living in separate apartments, and yet I had to literally force myself to sit in the living room and talk to her for ten minutes, convulsing at the thought of what might be happening with the Barksdale crew in the other room. Obvz I’m exaggerating a little bit here, you know I enjoy some hyperbole, but this is barely, barely amped up. I really, really am this obsessed. It is the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. Suriously. Last night I was laying in bed, and my boyfriend asked what was on my mind (Mom – he was in another twin bed across the room, I Love Lucy style!) and I replied, earnestly, “I’m really worried about Omar.” I was laying awake, on a Sunday night, unable to sleep because I was anxious about the fate of a fictional television character. I know this is my “comedy” blog (HAHAHAH best joke yet!) but this is not me writing a “funny” (the jokes keep coming!) post – this is just a recap of the exciting way I live my life. I think I need some help, y’all!
I have friends who try to back me up on this – The Wire is just so great, it’s hard to stop, it’s totally normal, etc. These people are enablers! They have no idea what I am capable of. This is hardly my first time down the TV rabbit hole and I’m sure won’t be my last. I used to DVR old episodes of Criminal Minds so I could watch them 8 eps in a row (what would that reveal on my criminal profile, Dr. Reid?!), I all but installed a catheter while watching the BBC version of Skins, god forbid I pause, and pulled an all-nighter watching the first and, tragically, only season of Freaks and Geeks. I watched the first three seasons of 30 Rock in one lonely weekend, both comforted and horrified to think that was exactly how Liz Lemon might live her life.
And, of course, there was the weekend my sister and I first discovered The Vampire Diaries. (Sidenote: Do not even get me started on TVD! If you are not watching this show, you are seriously cray-cray. I’m not into the whole supernatural vampire situation – we all recall my thoughts on Twilight (woof!) and I really only watch True Blood for the sex, but trust when I say this show is THE TITS. Everyone is sexy and dramatic and it’s bloody and campy and full of high school drama and they’re always having town festivals and flashbacks to Civil War Times and oyoyoyoy it is the BEST! End of sidenote. Now go set your DVR!) We were two young, single gals spending a weekend in NYC. The songs call it The City That Never Sleeps, and that’s just how we lived. I had the first six episodes of the series in from Netflix and after destroying them in one Friday night sitting, we ran to the neighborhood Blockbuster the moment it opened the next morning (RIP, Blockbuster 😦 ), paid 25 bucks to rent the remaining four discs in the set, and raced back home to watch, stopping only to pick up several BLT’s on the way back (TV binges demand grease!) We weren’t able to finish that night, so we set an actual alarm clock for 8 AM the next day to be sure we had enough time for the final disc before my sister had to catch a train outta town. It was, and I really wish I was kidding, the pinnacle of my young life.
I have no real point to this story, I just needed to explain where I’ve been and maybe give a cry for help? Does anyone know if there is a 12-step program for people like me? ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the shows I cannot watch, the courage to watch the ones I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” Ooof, that was both unfunny and offensive! Sorry, everyone!
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to run. I foolishly made plans to socialized mid-bender, so now must pretend I’m going to the gym while secretly running home to catch at least one, if not two more episodes, before I meet my pals for a movie. Pathetic, I know. But I’m REALLY WORRIED ABOUT OMAR!