You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)

Tales of Driving Under the Influence of Cold Pills, part 2: Death By TV...

Remember a while ago I told a story of being sick and driving while under the hypnotic spell of "non drowsy" cold pills that lie? No? I don't either, not so much. This time is 427 times worse than that. The kind of flu that makes you think you'll be stuck like this forever and probably never get better again, so just suck it up and face it, this is your life now and just get used to hallucinating and sleeping on the couch to old episodes of Married With Children, like a college hippie on a Sunday morning.


I got SERVED karmic retribution this weekend, yo. Probably from getting my hate-on with hippies. I've had the grand poobah of ass-kicking flus for the past few days and I can only imagine the universe is trying to teach me a lesson, because no one around here is sick, those damn flu germs just surprise-attacked me overnight and I woke up Saturday morning ready for the Grim Reaper just to take me to the purgatory that will be my afterlife (because let's face it, the chances of me getting into heaven are pretty damn slim at this point). The joke's on the universe though, because I NEVER learn my lesson and will be back to making fun of hippies in no time.

Being Super Sick for 2 days leaves you with only 2 options: to sleep and to watch TV all day. In between hallucinations and conversations with people who weren't in the room (I'm telling you, it was bad, and not in the Michael Jackson way), I watched enough crap TV to hold me over for a while. And you KNOW I loves me some crap TV, so this is a new low, even for me. Nick at Night and TV Land are my bitches. Here are a few musings about Too Much TV When You're Dying From The Plague:

* When did Friends get really, really really annoying? Like, to the point where you actually say out loud "Oh, shut UP." Those nervous, twitchy
spazz characters...if they were my neighbors in real life, there'd be a slew of flaming brown paper bags on their doorsteps, I can assure you. (I know. I'm badass, try to stop me.)

* I have a new appreciation for Danielle Steele-inspired Lifetime movies from the late 80's. They're all called, like, "A Heartbeat Away" or "Not Without My Jazzercise Videotape. Oh! And My Daughter! Not Without Her, Either." All the plots are versions of this: 80's Wall Street business-type couple wearing power suits and velcro Reeboks. Woman gets pregnant, husband doesn't want it, divorces her to be with his 19 year old secretary. Wife moves into a small unfurnished house, starts a home business of some sort and goes from rags to riches. Has baby, meets a man with a beard who loves her and her bastard kid like it was his own. The 19 year old girlfriend ends up dead somehow, old husband comes crawling back to old wife. Will she pick old husband or new, sensitive lover with beard? Of course, nice guy with beard wins.

* There was a "Grunge Fest" on (I kid you not), with back to back flicks that supposedly defined our generation such as Empire Records and Reality Bites, and I forgot how much I love the 90's. Minus, of course, the neo-hippie music (Phish? Really?!) and like, causes and stuff. I'll be digging out my Docs and fishnets promptly, though I wonder if Teens These Days will look at me like some kind of aging loser desperately clinging to her youth. Which is SO not me, except in every way possible. I think in 30 years, someone should make a sequel to those Gen X movies, only the characters will be riding around the mall on Rascals, wearing track suits and "Loser" tee shirts, oxygen tubes in place of nose rings. Think about that, Cameron Crowe.