Let me start out by saying that, apparently, I cannot top last Thursday’s post. I don’t think I should even try- and I hope that’s cool. It was certainly not my intention to make people weep (there’s enough intentional weeping in the world), and the fact that it resonated with a) people with kids, b) people without kids, and c) maybe even kids, themselves, leads me to believe that I have reached the apex of my blogosomeness and should probably just rest on my laurels.
But, since ‘blogosomeness’ isn’t a word (yet) and I have no laurels on which to do any sort of verb…I hope the minutiae of my Monday will suffice.
Presented for the consideration of the Midnight Society (Thanks, Chel!):
Last night, having done every ounce of cleaning that a home deserves, corresponded with everyone whom I ought, and completed the tasks for the upcoming week, P.J. and I opened the Netflix’s Instant Queue. (Only one of those prior statements is true. I’ll let you place your best guesses.) Since I am nearly caught up with the shows of my Boyfriend Trifecta (John Krasinski, Demetri Martin and James Roday)- and, since I am completely unable to start the darned series that friends have been raving about (due to utter laziness, not disinterest- yes, they’re different), I decided to take Peej up on the offer of “adding some shows to the Queue.”
I think he’s gonna stop offering stuff like this.
There are so many good shows right now. And so many excellent cancelled ones. But my first suggestion? Highlander! (P.J. had no idea that there were so many seasons. He knows now.)
And then we worked backwards.
The first season of Sesame Street. The Care Bears movie. (“We care! We…care! I…care!”) The original Strawberry Shortcake and, of course, My Little Ponies. (For Nora.) Then we got a little crazy and began Googling shows that we vaguely remembered (Shirt Tales! Getalong Gang! Mapletown!) And seriously? The animation on these things leave a little bit to be desired. Faces are made up of like, four pixels. They are still greatness incarnate, however.
(Question to my Mom and/or Kate: Remember when I used to carry that panda bear trading card around with me, circa ’84? Was that ‘Getalong Gang’ or ‘Shirt Tales?’ I can’t recall. Perhaps because I was four. Or maybe because they’re essentially the same show. Also- did you know that ‘Mapletown’ was anime? I sure as heck didn’t. Was I a particularly dense seven year-old?)
We then found a YouTube copy of The Felix the Cat movie- a flick that, until last night, I half wondered if I had imagined. It is so great. (“Anairo mines…Anairo! Oriana!”) Yes, I realize that will resonate with, oh, one of you. And it’s Kate, again. Peej and I have started watching it- like we do with most things- way too late at night, rendering it a four part miniseries.
We’ve done this before; some of you may remember that during our engagement we enjoyed a seven part series called “Far and Away.” At 1am. Each part was roughly ten minutes long. (Boy, I thought I was tired then!)
And this morning I introduced Nora to the glory of both YouTube and Strawberry Shortcake.
A confession: my nearly-six month old has seen TV. She loves it. Also? I feel no shame in this. During our late night feedings she developed a Pavlovian response to hearing The Office’s opening theme, and I’m pretty sure she caught some Law & Order interrogation out of the corner of her eye. In our work week she’s the youngest of three children, all of whom have a very special relationship with the Boob Tube. (NJ digs anything with the word ‘boob.’ See what I did there?) And I’m certainly not gonna hide her in the kitchen when Dora or Max & Ruby appear. Thirty minutes here and there is not going to fry her neurons. Plus, I would like to pose the question- how are the spinny fish on the aquarium bouncer not just a less-awesome version of a TV show? I’m not gonna plop her down unattended in front of either, but if you had your choice: learning how crayons are made OR a watching a starfish who only knows three songs? Crayon factory, all the way.
Please do not report me.
And, to firmly plant us in the here and now- This Week’s Commercial That Bugs the Bejeebers Outta Me: The International Delights Coffeehouse Inspirations ad (I realize that’s a lot of words). It features a guy, clad in an apron, pouring a mug for an attractive woman.
“Here’s your caramel blahdiblah,” he says. (Liberties with dialogue have been taken. I was too irate for accuracy.) Said woman takes the mug, smiles, and replies “Thanks, hon!” Get it? It was her husband the whole time!’s
Except.
If Mr. Man has time to don an apron and be all shenanigan-y, couldn’t he just as easily have made dinner? For example? Maybe scrubbed a toilet or two? Also- that’s his idea of pampering his wife? Dumping [admittedly delicious] flavoring into straight-up java? Step it up, pal. And, worth a mention- Guy wants to play dress-up and the best he came up with is barista? COME ON.
Perhaps I should turn off the TV for today. Too many hard-hitting issues really get the blood pressure goin’. Time for a nap. Or a coffee break.
I do have an apron.
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