Please don’t call me at home or bother me in the grocery store. I am in a big rush.
I have to watch television. Hours and hours and hours of TV.
My life is complete. My dream came true. I got a digital video recorder that records television shows two at a time. It’s really simple to use. You just click on the shows you want to record from a channel menu and they stack up in a magical black box.
Even a nonelectronics person like me can easily play the shows.
The first Friday after the installation, I taped “Divorce Court,” “Sex and the City,” “The View,” “Regis and Kelly,” “David Letterman,” “A Wedding Story,” “Two-A-Days” on MTV and a crime biography.
Though sheepish when folks say they hate daytime TV, I could watch it all, from the “Today Show” at 7 a.m. to “The Tyra Banks Show” and the court shows, then “Maury,” “Jerry Springer” and “Maury” again.
My homebound husband never turns on the TV during the day.
What a nut.
To me, watching TV is kind of a sweet, naughty thing to do. As a kid in the 1950s, I got to watch one show after school and then one show after homework. I could hear “Bonanza” at 9 p.m. Sundays from the living room while I was tucked into bed after watching something mesmerizing from Walt Disney.
I try not to watch TV at night when my granddaughters are spending the evening, but it’s usually on in the background. My daughter, Kati, called me the other morning. She relayed a conversation she’d had with my granddaughter, 2-year-old Kelbi.
“Will you eat grapes with your breakfast?” Kati said. “Deal?”
Kelbi replied: “Deal or no deal.”
Yes, Grammie had watched “Deal or No Deal” the night before, but in my defense, we also were arranging magnetized Polly Pockets in her little dream house with the neato elevator.
I was excited after my first day of recording, but my weekend turned out to be pretty busy. I had about six hours of stuff to watch, but darn it all, we had to get groceries, do laundry, weed the flowerbeds, eat and watch the Seattle Seahawks.
Meanwhile, I recorded “20/20,” “The O’Reilly Factor” and “Access Hollywood.”
By Sunday night, my list of taped shows had expanded like my belly on Thanksgiving. Relaxing to watch some of the taped shows, I realized regular Sunday night TV was coming on, and I love “Bridezillas,” “Million Dollar Listing,” “The Amazing Race” and “Desperate Housewives.”
Frustration mounted. Depression followed. When could I watch all this darn TV?
Could it be?
Could there really be TOO much television?
I simply couldn’t view it all Sunday night, and I had automatically set my precious machine to record Monday’s daytime shows, which created a whole new blob of vacuous time stealers.
To find an hour here and there, you can fast-forward through what you record. Who knew “Maury” had so many commercials? I can fly through my favorite topic – who’s the daddy – in less than 20 minutes. Not much meat on that hour-long bone.
I can quickly watch the host chat on “The View,” where Rosie O’Donnell is a riot. The other day, a preteen actress was on the show, and the youngster said she didn’t like math in school. O’Donnell said that was OK, kids don’t need math, because when they get older people give them calculators.
Love her or not, O’Donnell is part of today’s TV scene, along with more than 90 new fall programs. Whining about the number of choices, my daughter-in-law, Lisa, gave me some insightful advice: “Just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to record everything. We only record the shows we want to watch and only because we are doing something else at the time that show is on. I refuse to spend all of my time in front of the TV.”
I hate it when she’s right.
I probably shouldn’t have taped “The Nine” on Wednesday night. I’ve got two “Grey’s Anatomy” episodes in the bulging holding bin. Sheesh, we have plans all weekend that don’t include face-plants in front of the boob tube.
When I find time to watch TV, I lay on my tummy stretched across a queen-sized bed. Two-year-old Kelbi stretched out on her tummy this week and told her Mommy she was “Sitting like Grammie.”
I hope she doesn’t get the TV bug like her Grammie.
It can mess with your head.
Columnist Kristi O’Harran: 425-339-3451 or oharran@heraldnet.com.
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