I may have mentioned (at great length, no less) in my last blog that I had recently been ill. I also may have mentioned it on Facebook (although in not nearly as great length). The reason I mention this now is that I am not done mentioning it. Or, as the case may be, complaining about it. I had posted on FB that the true measure of an illness is in how many movies (a.k.a. DVD's) you watch while bedridden. While I was diseased, I managed to watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy (director's cut- which anyone who is an LOTR fan knows fully encompasses nearly fourteen days of your life), the first three Shrek's (I don't own the fourth), and the entirety of the Harry Potter series.
That's a lot of movie watching.
Yet, still, the beasties continued to mount their attack, beating extraordinary rhythms on my brain (which, not unlike the Grinch's heart, grew three sizes that day). With my head pounding, it wasn't likely that I would get to sleep any time soon. And lying in a dark room with nothing to do only made me feel worse. Much worse. I could actually discern each and every individual beastie without something else to occupy my time and what was left of my brain. But, alas, I was too tired to get up and change out the DVD. And my eyes were too crossed to read. Therefore, I was relegated to whatever was on TV.
Now, I have to say, aside from a few cooking shows (I'm a HUGE Top Chef nut) and The Walking Dead (prerequisite for a woman that runs a haunted house, wouldn't you say?), I rarely, if ever, watch TV. I'm more of a book fan. But, as I said, my eyes were crossed and my brain was swollen, therefore, TV seemed like the only alternative. Besides, I could always change the channel. With 300 plus channels (I say 300 plus because although the cable company likes to advertise 600 plus, most of them are the same channel twice over- I still haven't figured out the reasoning behind that one- and a good hundred or more are either sports or Spanish channels- I understand them both equally- which is to say, not at all- and that leaves roughly 300), anyway, with 300 channels, how hard could it be to find something to watch?
It didn't take long to realize how hard it could in fact be and why I don't watch TV.
First, I found, 'Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.' Somehow, with my encephalitis lethargica, I thought this might be something about Yogi Bear. Hey, it's logical- honey equals bears- just ask Pooh, and then there was that reference to Boo Boo, Yogi's best bud. I thought, maybe it was one of those Hollywood behind the scenes scandal kind of things that would drag all the skeletons- or pic-a-nic baskets, as it were- out of Yogi's closet. Maybe the Goose wasn't so Spruce after all; maybe Boo Boo Runs Wild, was more Girls Gone Wild; maybe- E-GADS!- Yogi wasn't a bear after all! I couldn't wait to tune in and find out. I snuggled down in my thick, fluffy blankets and awaited the antics.
Boy was I in for a surprise.
There was no bear. There was no ranger. There were no pic-a-nic baskets in Jellystone Park. There was no whimsy, no flights of fancy, no joy in Mudville. There was only horror. I witnessed a decapitation (and only because I didn't turn away in time) on The Walking Dead that was far less gruesome and heaps more entertaining than the 'Honey Boo Boo' family. I'm fairly certain the swelling in my brain was the only thing that kept me from losing cells- they were pressed too tightly against my skull to go anywhere. Thank God for the raging fever that allowed me to forget all but a few scenes- something about a squealing pig- although how I was able to differentiate the pig from the rest of the cast as they all looked fairly identical, is pretty much anyone's guess. Actually, I think the pig may have been cleaner.
I vaguely recall having switched channels and finally landing on something called 'Swamp People.' I thought it was a horror movie.
I was right.
And I couldn't help but to think, if this is the stuff reality TV is made up of, then reality bites. And it has rabies.
Whose reality is this, by the way? Certainly not mine! When I see people like that, only two things come to mind. Neither of which is good.
Option #1- Chainsaw-toting, not-their-own-skin wearing, maniacs who inhabit some portion of Texas.
Option #2- Banjoes playing the opening to Deliverance. At least I think it was the opening. Having never seen (nor having any desire WHAT-SO-FREAKING-EVER to see) the film, I can't really be sure. But that's how I picture it.
The point is, either way, it's time to run.
Anyway, back to sur-reality TV.
'Duck Dynasty.' I had been hearing talk about this series at work. Several people had asked me if I'd seen it. Somehow, I instantly envisioned a cartoon. It sounds like a cartoon. I was thinking something along the lines of Darkwing Duck meets Dynasty. (The mystifyingly popular 1980's prime time soap starring Joan Collins- which by the way I never watched, but couldn't help but to be inundated with anyway. When I say it was popular, I mean it was POP-U-LAR.) Anyway, I was picturing Drake Mallard (a.k.a. Darkwing Duck) as Drake Carrington (John Forsythe's character on Dynasty- I had to look that up in Wikipedia, by the way, and found it immensely funny that they were both Drake's…). So that's how my brain works.
It's pretty obvious to those who have had the dubious pleasure of watching that particular television series, that I had never seen it. So I chose a time when I was too riddled with fever to do anything else to check it out. Hey, it's a cartoon, right? How bad can it be? Something about being ill makes you (or at least me) long for the childhood years of chicken noodle soup (something I hate) and PB&J sandwiches (something I detest) and cartoons (something I rarely watched as a child.) Yet, still, when I am sick, I long for them. Weird, I know.
Anyway, I decided to tune in, expecting, 'I am the terror that flaps in the night! And also an oil magnate.'
That's not what I got. Or maybe it is. I still haven't decided. I will say it's the stuff of nightmares.
I'm always behind in the times. I remember a few years ago when 'Jersey Shore' was all the rage and everyone kept talking to me about it. People kept mentioning this 'J Wow' chick. Naturally, I thought J Lo had changed her name a la Prince the incomprehensible. I later learned that 'JWoww' (thank you once again Wikipedia for that spelling), was an entirely different person. Also, there was mention of a 'Snookie' which I instantly related to pool. (For me the word 'snooker' relates to billiards, as in: 'To snooker someone at a game of pool.' It makes sense in my head…) I also relate 'Snookie' to a dog's name. So in my head, Snookie was a pool-playing dog. (And yes, instantly I had that awful Dogs Playing Pool print imagery in my head. On black velvet, no less.) Anywho, there I was, listening to babble about a pool-playing dog and J Lo, who had apparently changed her name, and some guy named Vinny (who was, of course, my cousin, the lawyer. Ask Ralph Macchio.) This didn't sound like anything that I would want to watch. And it was a little confusing.
I've always been a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to popular culture. I swear I'm not stupid. I just have some fairly severe blond moments at times.
For example, about five years ago (and this is a story my daughter still LOVES to tell), my daughter and I went out to Dairy Queen for ice cream. We were sitting there sucking down our hot fudge sundaes, when I happened to look out the window at the business next door. It's a lingerie store. And I'm not talkin' Victoria's Secret. There is NOTHING secret about that place. It's more whips and chains than feathers and lace. An interesting set-up when you think about it- Dairy Queen, the epitome of family fun and frivolity, and right beside their drive-thru, Exotic Lingerie, the epitome of YECH and BLECH!
So, there I sat, staring at their sign out front, which read, 'Pirates of the Caribbean, ONLY $6.99.' I frowned. Now that was a good price for a DVD, but still…
I mentioned this to my daughter (who was roughly sixteen at the time), adding, "I know that's a good price, but I think I'd rather go to Walmart or Target and probably pay the same thing. Even if you paid more, who would go into a place like that just to save a few bucks?"
Hot fudge jettisoned from her nose. Ice cream splattered out of her mouth and plopped onto the table. She nearly had a seizure she was laughing so hard. When she was finally able to speak, she said, (deadpan serious,) "Mom. I don't think that's the same movie."
And that's when it dawned on me, she was probably right. (And then I asked her how she knew that, but that's beside the point.)
The point is, I learned a few things while I was sick:
#1- Pigs are indeed classier than some people.
#2- Alligators have more teeth than the people that hunt them.
#3- There is an amazing amount of money to be made in producing duck calls.
#4- And MOST important- I need to buy more DVD's.
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