When I Say “The Internet Is Broken,” He Just Rolls His Eyes Because It’s Not The Dumbest Thing I’ve Said
Technology and I have a somewhat tenuous relationship. Without certain members of my family doing such things as “programming my remote” and “plugging in the microwave,” I’d probably still be stuck staring at a can of Spaghetti-O’s forlornly and wishing I could figure out how to open it. It’s not that I’m inept, it’s just that I’m inept.
I’m okay with this because while I have routinely explained that dirty socks actually do not have to roam about the house in pairs of two, looking for a family, but prefer to actually live in the basement by the washing machine, my pleas have fallen on deaf ears.
Division of labor, I guess.
The television, however, I have figured out.
Not maybe the fancy doo-hickeys that go along with it and all the buttons on the 57 remotes that we own (apparently they all do mystifyingly separate but all equally important functions and can never, ever be thrown away, ever), but I understand how televisions work.
See: my television is home to a number of very small actors who are incredibly versatile. While sometimes they boringly report the news (although never naked, because we’re not in the UK), when I switch channels, they seamlessly switch to contestants on American Idol, a wee Ryan Seacrest joyfully narrating and building the suspense. The tiny actors then whip out instruments and sing and dance and occasionally even have talent.
The actors that live in my television set are not the same as the ones that live in yours, though, so we’re never watching the exact same episode of Law and Order: Incredibly Depressing Episode Where You’re Reminded That At Any Moment Someone You Love Might Be Raped (and Probably Die), because having MY actors live in YOUR television set is positively absurd.
But the actors that live in my television are amazing, I’ll admit. They’re almost as awesome as the hamsters that live in my air conditioner that hold ice cubes in their mouths and blow cold air through the vents at me (but nothing, let’s be honest, is THAT awesome).
No, the actors are awesome because no matter how hard I try to catch them in the act of switching between programs, I simply cannot do it. That means that no matter what, I can’t catch Ryan Seacrest announcing, “THIS, is your NEXT RAPE VICTIM!”
But THAT, Pranksters, is what I so desperately require my television to do. If I could make my television set do anything at all, I would make it so that all of the programs did a mash-up.
Meaning, that at any time, you could catch Dexter Morgan mutilating one of the Desperate Housewives, his hair all sexy and askew, as he told them all of his secrets, yelling about his Dark Passenger.
Or maybe Dr. House could come in and do a musical number with some of the Glee kids about the wonders of Vicodin, because honestly, there’s nothing not wonderful about Vicodin, once you get past the potential for addiction and stuff. (WHATEVER)
The horrible contestants at the beginning of American Idol would be chased off the show by some roaming sharks from Shark Week, screaming as they were eaten alive, right in front of your very eyes. I mean, don’t tell me you haven’t thought “Jesus, people GET A FUCKING LIFE” when you’ve seen some of your fat male television actors traipse across the American Idol stage in a Star Wars themed thong bikini, making your ears bleed.
Kate Gosselin would find herself on Dog, the Bounty Hunter as his new wife and occasionally all of the actors would duke it out a la Celebrity Death March.
Then my television would have to make me popcorn. OBVIOUSLY.
“It’s not that I’m inept, it’s just that I’m inept”
Love that!
This absolutely coincides with my theory that my car is powered by magical invisible leprechauns, who occasionally go on strike and then have to be cajoled back to doing their DAMNABLE jobs and making my car run. And I’d pay for a shark to eat someone (ANYONE!!!) on Idol, except Randy Jackson, because I am convinced by his omnipresent necklaces that he in fact DOES practice Santeria, and I am not messing with THAT sort of mojo (again).
If Kate Gosselin was Dog’s wife, I wonder what he and his mullet would do to her when she bitched about not using coupons.
As a child I was sure there was a whole band of musicians & singers in the stereo speakers. Well in those days the speakers were big enough that my fantasy was probably true.
I just found out that my mom has a FULL bottle of vicotin and she’s not going to take it because it makes her feel funny and she won’t give it to me…………..She’ll get the Christmas card that was bought at hallmark this year and not one of the kids……Yes, I’m that evil!
Does this mean… and I cannot underscore this enough…that your television husbands are actually POCKET SIZED? Because, as you say, that would be FULL OF THE AWESOME.
Hmmmm Pocket sized husbands. WEll that sounds yummy.
I’d pay to see some of those AI people eaten during shark week. Especially if I can watch Mike Rowe narrate it in tight jeans and a tee shirt
If you switch back and forth REALLY REALLY REALLY quickly between Dog the Bounty Hunter and Jersey Shore, maybe something violent will happen to somebody. Keep me posted.
OK. Now I’m concerned about my mental health – I started reading this and thought “I’ve read this before”.
Haven’t I??
I laughed out loud, for a LONG time.
Like you, I am completely dependent on “certain members of my family” to ensure the correct working order of the hardware. This is especially disturbing since I make my living as a UX (user experience) professional. I LIVE on the internet. And yet, the 40 or 50 remote control devices that cannot be thrown away at my house (which are NOT THE SAME as the ones at your house) are a mystery as profound as The Big Bang Theory Expressed in Mathematical Equations or the Bermuda Triangle or Who Put Those Rocks There (Stonehange).
Good work, Aunt Becky.
Just like Neil from Citizen of the Month in a red dress, after looking inside your head, all I can say is, “What has been seen, cannot be unseen.”
I totally get you. (which may be scary) – Is the fact that I cannot recongize the difference between uploading and downloading pathetic? And if you KNOW the difference can you explain it or have The Daver do so? Both get shit on your computer right?
One of my favorite Aunt Becky Posts EVER. What an awesome fucking idea. All of television combined into one big chaotic episode. Genius.
You- are a fucking genius.
Or perhaps, the world’s biggest moron?
I tend to go the other way with my technological complaints. Like how can anyone be really worried about Skynet taking over the world? It’s a computer.. wait a day or two for it to crash and then don’t reboot it.
Like Twitter. I mean, if they can’t keep THAT running, how can we be so worried about it coming to life?
I somehow suspect that Twitter has already come to life and throws up the whale just to fuck with people.
So, I’m more then a little late in making a comment, but I am terribly behind in all my blog reading…do forgive me AB.
I do think that some water spewed out of my ears (not my nose) when I envisioned Kate Gosslin as wife of the Dawg the Bounty Hunter. Visons of her “jowels of a dog” belly, and a rat tail to go along with her old asymetrical hairdo were going right along with that vision. I can just imagine the sexteplets, with plastic handcuffs, mini rattails and pepper spray, jumping into a mini-bus to go catch some bail-jumper crack head now…