Things That Happened in Massachusetts
I walked downstairs; hearing the laughter and wondering what hilarious situation comedy my father was watching. We’re usually a Seinfeld or Simpsons family, but it was primetime on a Monday night. So I was thinking – No. Not Two and a Half Men! Not Big Bang Theory! I raised him better than that!
Then I stepped in front of the television and saw that it was worse than I thought. Holy shit. Not only was it Lifetime. It was fucking Reba! As in McIntyre! As in I had long since forgotten that anyone had actually given her a show.
If it had to be a Lifetime sitcom, I would have maybe understood Designing Women. You had those crazy ole gals – not quite Golden Girls old, but old enough to be practically unwatchable. Then they brought in Jan Hooks and super cute Julia Duffy, and the show really jumped the shark.
Now, I don’t like to go throwing terms like “Worse than Hitler” around lightly, which is why I save it for times like this. The ten minutes I saw of this show was maybe worse than Pol Pot. A half hour might have been Hitler.
I know it must have something to do with the theme of the show, but Reba had the last words of this episode: “We’re survivors.”
LOL! Great tagline!
I figure she’s a domestic abuse survivor like that Grace Under Fire woman, or she followed the band Survivor on tour like a Dead Head for years in the 80s.
When the show ended, I finally said to my Dad, “Dad, I’ve gotta ask why. Why Lifetime? And why Reba?”
He said, “What? It’s funny. I like the comedy.”
I had no response to that. In fact, I really have nothing more to say now. I watched ten minutes of Reba. I never thought that would happen.
Sooooo. we're having an open house this afternoon to sell our li'l hut in the woods. And I'm picking up here and there before going off to a church in Stow for a Mass being said for my grampy n' grammy.
Suddenly, I say, "Shit. I need to clean the dishes in the dishwasher." Then I remember that I need to buy more dishwater detergent. "Fuck!" I whisper.
So, do I race to the store and buy some more detergent? Of course not. That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead I pick up the dishwashing liquid and poor that sumbitch into the little cup. All the while thinking, I wonder if you're supposed to do this.
Well, I just thank my Lord our God that I noticed this before I left, but suddenly our kitchen is slowly filling with suds. Damnit. And we don't have a wet vac or anything. So I'm scooping up suds with napkins and paper towels. My mom tells me to run the thing again. Good show, Mum. More suds all over the floor. It was only after scooping up all those suds that I saw I could just drain the machine.
I hadn't planned on coming back home after the Mass. So our realtor would have come in to suds all over the place.
Yep. That's me, the happy homemaker.
For breakfast this morning I had a can of Hormel roast beef hash. And I microwaved it. Mmm. Sure, it comes out of the can like dog food, but it tastes pretty good once heated up. The problem is that hash begs to be coupled with eggs. You need a nice overeasy egg or two so the hash can mix with that delicious egg yolk). Without that, what are you eating? Heated dog food from a can. But I'm just too lazy to fry up a couple of eggs. I also suck at it, and who wants to clean that up? Not bloody me, matey!
On my own I've been eating cheaply, which means I've been eating like a child. My breakfasts are cereal. Lunches are Lean Pockets. Dinners normally frozen chicken nuggets, either supermarket brand or Banquet or Tyson, and French fries, always supermarket brand. I have plenty of pasta in the cabinet, but, again, the laziness. I keep getting nagged about how I need some vegetables, but I'm just too shy to approach the cute gal at the veggie stand. Aw, shucks.
I also frequent the Triple Dome of Terror - McDonald's, Burger King and Wendy's - entirely too often. Just wait until my choices increase nearly threefold out west. But I realized that Morgan Spurlock missed the whole reason I'm sure many people eat at these troths: it's fucking cheap. Despite the fact that you have to wait an hour to get into any restaurant for dinner, many people can't afford to eat well, motherfucker. But, what? A double cheeseburger for a dollar? Holy shit! Gimme! So what if you feel like death fifteen minutes later?
I went through a Wendy's drive thru. This was before I heard about the new bit of ordering a shake or a soda, then, when the guy gives it to you, taking the cover off, yelling, "Fire in the hole!" and throwing it back at him. So, I've yet to do that. I saw a news report that said a kid made a Gatorade and hot sauce concoction and blinded a worker with it for a few minutes.
But I ordered my shit and pulled up to the first window, where I saw the person in front of me pay. There was no one in site. I sat there for 30 or 40 seconds until the person in front of me got their food and drove off. So I drove up to the second window, thinking I'll just pay there. Again, I waited 30 seconds. Then it occurs to me: I might get away with not paying here. I thought that for maybe three seconds, when the girl opens the window, hands me my food, and says, "Have a nice day." I was all, "Thanks," Then drove away, brandishing my free dinner. Mind you, this was after throwing away nearly an entire frozen pizza because it sucked. So I pretty much broke even here, which means I did nothing wrong.
Now I have to go to a bar tonight and not spend money, which is actually pretty easy for me. Get there before they start charging and order water when your friends go up.