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  • Another reason to cancel cable TV

    March 13, 2006

    The other night after we got Sean to bed, I gained control of the remote control in a hostile takeover maneuver. Antique Daddy had inadvertently set it down within my reach and glanced away. So I propped myself up in bed like the domestic despot that I am and in a demonstration of my she-power, I autocratically went directly to HGTV where we watched paint dry until his eyes glazed over. And then I turned to the food channel where we watched chopping and dicing and more chopping until he was nearly comatose. Then, ignoring his DNR orders, I revived him by flipping through 99 channels of basic cable schlock paying no heed to his pleas to “Hey, what was that? Bikinis! Shooting! Bikinis AND shooting! Go back, I wanna see that!” Oh, sweet payback for all those times I was forced to watch “Platoon“.

    At one point in my channel surfing, I happened upon the reality show “The Girls Next Door.” (No link because you’ll just have to find your own smut.) Anyway, the show centers on Hugh Hefner and his three buxom blonde girlfriends who all live merrily in the Playboy Mansion. Only in Hollywood or on Mars would this be considered reality. I’m embarrassed to admit (really really embarrassed) I could only turn slightly away, in the same way I read the Enquirer at the checkout line at the grocery store — with one eye on the picture of Angelina Jolie’s lips while the other eye is keeping a lookout for anyone I know. With each eyeball going in a different direction and a toddler in tow, you don’t have to worry about the weirdo’s so much.

    Anyway, we watched it just long enough to agree that Hugh looked like somebody’s silly old grandpa padding around the mansion all day in his robe and slippers, playing house with babes young enough to be his grandchildren. What an old fool! And that’s when Antique Daddy brought up the fact that I hang around the house all day. In my robe and slippers. With a babe. Young enough (gulp) to be my grandchild…

    That’s just great. I’m the Hugh Heffner of motherhood. That was a bit more reality than I needed. What time does Platoon come on? A war movie will lighten my mood.

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