Still passing the open windows and falling down the stairs

DVR is the best thing to ever happen to me…OR…How DVR ruined my life

I love, love, love my DVR.
I was sick last week and I found that I’m able to watch twice as much shit in half the time with my handy jump forward button. I can scan the shows at 4x, 15x, 60x, or 300x normal speed. That means I don’t have to watch a whole episode of Oprah. I can skip right to the part where Doctor Oz has the diseased omentum in his hands. I can rewatch the pickle licker on The Soup over and over, crying from laughter and experiencing an uncomfortable urge for a kosher dill. And, as I mentioned here, sports are extra fun at an accelerated speed.

I hate, hate, hate my DVR.
I have lost all sense of reality. I find myself, several times a day, reaching for the jump back button…on my radio, on my steering wheel, on my phone. Saturday, I was in my car when someone pulled a seriously crazy maneuver on the road and I started looking for the remote so I could see it again. Mumbley Joe calls me on the telephone and I’m searching the buttons for the left arrow. People have started standing a fair distance from me because I’ve been known to reach over and push their left nipple if I need a do-over. To date, I have not yet sensed an urge to jump forward but I’m sure that’s just a budget meeting away.

The worst part — last night as I was drifting off to sleep and the dreams were starting to come, an info box popped up, I guess giving the plot and running time of the first dream in the queue…?

Save the children…from the monkeys

I love this new angle in the spam comments war:
hello , you have a very nice site, but Im hired to leave advertising comments on sites, sorry i hate to do it but i have to . If you dont like advertising comments please send me an email with your site address to (redacted) and I will not write on your site. Sorry for inconvenience.

Can you believe it? Now someone has actually hired some nine year old Guatemalan to sit in front of a computer and post comments on the blogs of the world. And this poor child hates to do it. But (s)he has to. The poor thing. Oh no, here comes the guilt factor…(s)he’s just doing her/his job. Must.Send.Email.With.Personal.Information.to.Make.it.Stop.

Because what I need is more shit cloggin up my cyber world, what with confirming the web site AND giving them my email address.

The weirdest thing is that the spam-bot (posing as a helpless humanoid) didn’t even leave me any advertising.

Listen up, if you want me to react to the thought of someone having to do something they hate, the comment should go a little something like this:
hello , you have the most amazing site I have ever had the pleasure to read. I would hate to do anything that might distract from your insightful writing, but I am a nine year old Guatemalan whose parents have recently died. I have been left to fend for myself and my 13 younger siblings. There are only two lucrative fields in my remote village: 1) leaving advertising comments on sites, and 2) fisting monkeys in the porn circus. If you would rather that I don’t bother you again in the future, please send me an email with your site address to idontwannafistmonkeys (at) theporncircus (dot) org, along with $49.95. I truly apologize from the depths of my soul, as do my brothers and sisters, Carmen, Fernando, Lucia, Sofia, Antonio, Rafael, Guadalupe, Rosario, Hector, Brendita, Edmond, Flora, and Bob. Thank you. Come again.

That was my skull! I’m so wasted!

Or…
Don’t be a spaz.

So, I’ve been not great in the health department as of late.

Guess what? I’m stressed. And apparently, I have the swell ability to give myself chronic pain when I’m stressed. The weird thing is that I thought the stress was lessening while the pain continued to worsen. Maybe the truth is closer to…I was feeling less mentally stressed because I was suppressing and internalizing. Blah, blah, blah. Result is twisted colon. I don’t even want to talk about my anaconda colon.

But I do want to talk about these drugs. I’m taking an antispasmodic that is an ass kicker. And to get things off to a really fucked up start, I still took Rozerem the first night I took the new medication. How do you think a drug that “May cause drowsiness, dizziness, and blurred vision” will interact with a sleeping pill? These are the questions Elvis attempted to answer.

I literally slept for 19 hours, waking periodically to let the dog in and out, eat something, and watch enough shit TV to knock me out again. So, I’ve given up the Rozerem, which I had just started taking. I’ll be sticking with the Spaz-Away pills, which are actually prescribed to Parkinson’s patients to control tremors, so I’m thinking they’re kind of serious. In any case, they’re much more heavy duty than anything I’ve taken, especially since I’ve been sober. And I hate how they make me hazy, but I think that is already starting to pass.

I’m just sayin’, if you see me in a sequined leather jump-suit headed toward Vegas, feel free to plan an intervention.

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