VH1 Is A Time Sucking Black Hole

Contrary to what Sheryl Crow would have you believe, my mood lately has been less "all I wanna do is have some fun" and more "all I wanna do is sit on my ass and have ice cream, which causes instant weight loss, spoon-fed to me by a hot cabana boy." But that seems to have a few too many syllables, which, now that I think about it, is probably why she just went with "have some fun." Clever girl, that Sheryl.

Sadly, instead of sitting on my ass, eating weight-loss-inducing ice cream fed to me by a hot twenty-something with loose morals, I have instead been keeping rather busy. My brother and sister-in-law borrowed Turtle last week, from Monday to Saturday, which left me an unholy amount of free time on my hands, which, in turn, meant that I had to scramble to figure out what I used to do with myself before I had a rambunctious preschooler to chase around all day. Of course, the answer to that question was, "Hello, moron, you had a JOB!" so I didn't find much inspiration for how to fill my days by looking in that direction.

Instead, I decided I would tackle a project which has been plaguing me for, I don't know, maybe 5 years now. I decided to clean out the garage. Now, I have, in fact, cleaned my garage in the past, but that mostly entailed moving boxes from one section of the garage to another, and what I REALLY wanted to do was go through those boxes and figure out what could be tossed and what needed to be kept. But every time I suggested that to Oscar, he moaned pitifully and then rent his garments and it only went downhill from there because the whole reason we have all of those boxes full of crap we haven't looked at in several years is that every time Oscar needs to uncover his desk from the piles of paper and miscellaneous detritus, he fills boxes and then puts them in the garage because, as he says, "I'll be forced to deal with them if they're out there because they'll be in the way." ................ Uh-huh.

So with several days of freedom in front of me, I thought to myself what a perfect project that would be for the week. It ended up being only sort of perfect. I started out strong, going through 5 boxes in the space of a few hours. I took several boxes of paper out to the recycling bin. I only kept a small pile of (what looked like) important papers for Oscar to file and an even smaller pile for myself to file appropriately. But day two was not so productive. Mostly because I made the mistake of not jumping up and changing the channel the SECOND VH-1 stopped playing music videos and I was done with my breakfast. Instead, I ended up getting sucked into Rock of Love with Bret Michaels.

I had thought that working in the living room with the TV on would be oh-so-wonderful because I would be able to keep one eye on the TV and one eye on the crap I was going through and by the end of day three, I would be able to sit back and marvel at my feat of multi-tasking. (Stop laughing.) Instead, I found myself slack-jawed, watching some lame "reality" show on VH-1, wondering what those crazy bitches were going to do next, and hungering for a new episode.

I was shamed by my complete lack of anything resembling willpower. I could NOT pull away from that show. And not only could I NOT pull away from that show, I found myself getting unreasonably attached to one particular contestant. So now, I find myself talking to Bret Michaels, as though he can hear me yelling at my television, passionately arguing that if he has any sort of heart, if he is in this for anything other than a quick publicity boost and a cheap lay, if he has any reasonable bone in his body, he will ditch these other women as quickly and efficiently as humanly possible (especially Lacey because OMG with the crazy) and ask Jes to "rock his world."

I quake at the thought of what I have become.

I am grateful, at least, that VH-1 only played two episodes that day, and I was able to get back out to the garage and get things cleaned up. It's not perfect in there, but progress was indeed made. And now, of course, Turtle is back home with his endless pleas to play with him. So I am keeping busy with him and my other friends and various and assorted chores. And I'm trying very hard to avoid VH-1 like the plague.

Except on Sundays at 11:00am. Some people root for their favorite football teams. I root for my favorite fame-whoring wannabe-rocker girlfriend nut job!