My Quest to Ban the Remote

You know that guy who invented the remote? If I ever find him, I'm going sick the Ninja Bear or Chuck Norris on him because seriously, he ought to be nunchucked. Note to Blogger: no, I wasn't trying to spell upchucked!

I tried, really I did. I don't much like TV to begin with. There's just nothing on I have a desire to watch anymore except Food Network or perhaps a Westminster Dog Show. I was bound and determined to have some cozy family room relaxing time tonight. How about some supper in front of the TV which we never do (albeit a horrible supper, since Mother Hubbard never could cook)? Perhaps a basketball game, a movie, a drama, a poker tournament....watching anything for a spell. It might even trigger something in my brain that I wanted to say all week that either it left too quickly or there was nobody around to tell except a deaf dog and a cat who could care less.

But that dang remote can really ruin my mood. I would seriously rather get up off my bum and change the channel every time a commercial comes on rather than have to put up with the flipping flipping.

Flip. FLIP. FLIP. FLIP.

Three to five seconds on a channel and it's gone - even with 25 seconds left in a close basketball game. Oh look, it's a war movie with a tank getting blown u...by the weird sunglasses guy who has a pair of Queens....Eddie Murphy is so good in Trading Pla....oh what a cute little baby collie on Animal Plan.....45 degrees tomorr....and if we call right now we can get one for $9.95 but only unt....dang, a full house, who kne.....and the captain of the All-Tournament team is.....Walker, Texas Rang...with SNL guest host Tracy Morg....

You get the picture.

It's the ultimate display of ADD. Three different times I cozied up in the chair, only to be terrorized by the strobe-like screen and various decibel levels of angst. I kept telling myself to suck it up. I asked a couple of questions about the "movie of the second." But by the time my question was out, the scene was gone, and the calloused thumb and the glazed-over eyes told me it was pointless. So I went back to my work I brought home from work and my mounds of laundry, which I so badly didn't want to do.

"Remoting" yes, I just verbed that drives me absolutely crazy.

Fortunately, it will be a very short drive.

And I'm betting (that pair of Queens) on the Laundry Ninja to stealthily show up in the middle of the night, only because he'll find my remote and mistake it for his own.


Tea tonight: Green with Pomegranate