Well, it seems like I’ve gone through another vacation with a proverbial jacket over my not-so-proverbial head. I took the camera. I didn’t take pictures.
Tanya and I spent Thanksgiving in Running Springs, nestled high in the picturesque California Mountains. It was really a lovely place. Very photogenic. But see, the camera was downstairs at the cabin in a suitcase and although I had no problem driving 5300 feet up the mountain, I couldn’t be bothered to walk 50 feet downstairs. So, no pictures for you.
Just imagine a snow covered house resting gently under tall swaying pines. Imagine the great room of every arts and crafts lodge you’ve ever seen. High ceilings, wide hardwood floors, the smell of cinnamon hanging in the air.
Our cabin was nothing like that.
Well, it was a little like that. It had Jello molds hanging on the walls. That’s rustic. It had wood paneling. That’s kind of rustic, right? It had an air hockey table. The kind Grizzly Adams used to play on. And there was snow.
It was a good time. I came in third in the great air hockey tourney. At least I finished in the medals. The turkey that Tanya and I had to make turned out really good. It was a fine bird. In fact, all of Thanksgiving dinner turned out well. Very tasty.
It was a good time. But I’m more convinced than ever that I’m not ready to have children. I’m way too selfish for them. I’m too selfish to even want them. There were two kids in diapers on this trip with us (we went with other people, we didn’t just steal some kids). They were cute. They were smart. They didn’t cry much. But, here’s the deal, they were still the focus of my attention when they were in the room. I didn’t have to change diapers. I didn’t have to feed them. I didn’t have to get them to go to sleep. I didn’t even have to watch them really. But they still wore me out. The parent’s were incessant…”what’s he getting into?” “Is he digging in the garbage?” “What is that in his mouth?” “Don’t hit…”
And then there were the things they said to the kids.
And those kids were well behaved! No thanks. The television is mine. The garbage is mine. The food is mine. Sleep is mine. It’s all mine! Stay away, kids!
Speaking of kids, there are kids on Desperate Housewives. Did you like that? It’s a tie in. A segway (not the scooter). It’s the type of thing that ABC’s Good Morning America is driving me crazy with.
It seems that ABC is happier tan a kid with his first bike to have a hit television show. Sure, it’s been a while. Some people see it as a sign of the apocalypse. They’re wrong. But, Hope and Faith is the fifth seal.
Anyway, GMA’s been doing these really annoying tie-ins with their number one show. I understand the excitement, but come on, enough is enough. It’s one thing to talk about Desperate Housewives during the entertainment portion of the show, it’s another to pretend like it’s somehow poignant enough to connect to actual news.
Desperate Housewives is not news! But today they introduced a story with a moment from the show. I don’t watch DH, but evidentially, there was a nightmare sequence in it last night. The clip led into a story about nightmares and dream analysis.
Dumb. It’s very transparent. If they’re not careful, ABC’s going to create huge backlash. I already hate the show, and I’ve never even watched it. What are the executives thinking?
“DH is the top show on Sunday nights!”
“Yeah, but we still need to advertise the hell out of it. What we need is synergy!”
“Yeah, you know, we need to be able to advertise the show on the news without making it seem like a flagrant plug and vice versa.”
“Is that why that lady flashed the football guy?”
“Sort of…Think. What on the show could be newsworthy?”
“Well a lady died last night.”
“Yes, but she’s not really dead. It’s just a show, she’s very much alive. Although, she’s probably wondering how she’s going to pay for that new house in Brentwood without the nice paycheck.”
“My house cost a lot too.”
“Phil, you’re a genius! Desperate Housewives reminds people of news! There’s a dream sequence in the show…nightmare analysis! There’s a murder on the show…the rising violent crime rate! There’s kids on the show…Cardinal Mahoney’s indictment! It’s perfect.”
“Do I get a raise now?”
“But, what about my house…?”
Well, you get the idea. It’s relentless and dumb. Much like my little dialogue there. We need to be smarter about these things. It’s bad enough that the news is full of crap like Julia Roberts’ weird-named babies. Disney needs to stop whoring itself to itself. Diane Sawyer didn’t claw her way up to the top to tell me about some dumb ass TV show. At least I hope not. She should be above that too.
Fun Fact: Julia Roberts named her kids Phinnaeus and Hazel. I would make fun of them for being born in the wrong century, but I have a sneaking suspicion that someday I’ll be begging them for a job.
Nepotism sucks when you’re the child of teachers.