I realized recently that I watch almost no TV anymore, something that my shitheel of a boss constantly mocks me for. He wants those clicks, you see, and a television writer who watches no television isn’t really helping the cause.
He may have a point.
Anyway, I figured that just because I don’t watch TV doesn’t mean I can’t review TV, right? You just need the proper setup (read: whiskey). So here we go, your real-time review of me not watching TV. With whiskey.
9:00 - To make this as authentic as possible, I’m starting at a time when, from what I understand, the good shows come on. Worry not, I actually started drinking at 7:30.
9:05 - I’m already bored.
9:07 - I feel like my cat is judging me. Don’t look at me like that, you little fuck. You came from a research laboratory, you’re lucky to be alive at all. YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE.
9:10 - I’m staring mournfully at my Playstation 4 and realizing what a dumb fucking idea this is. Goddamnit, this would normally be prime Destiny time and I’m wasting it for you assholes.
9:12 - By the way, this Scotch (Dalmore) is fantastic. I highly recommend developing a taste for a specific kind of booze, because a side benefit is that people will then routinely gift you that kind of booze. Which is why I have like nine bottles of Scotch in my cabinet upstairs. My liquor cabinet is, like my family tree, heavy on the brown side.
9:17 - My cat just took a crap in his litter box. I think he did it while I’m sitting here just to piss me off. He stared at me the entire time. Fucking creep.
9:20 - Sitting here in the quiet, I realize that I have a shitload of DVD’s that I haven’t watched in probably four years. And yet I refuse to part with them. Why is that? I’d sell any one of you for a buck and a quarter and half a sandwich, but I keep old, shitty unwatched DVDs for years.
9:22 - I wonder if I could get a group rate on selling our readers into slavery. Or maybe just their parts for medical use. I’m sure I could grind up whatever’s left into some sort of paste that can be used for industrial lubricant or something.
9:23 - Maybe I shouldn’t type out every thought.
9:25 - A friend of mine just texted me to ask me what I’m up to. I told him I’m drinking whiskey and staring at a blank screen. His response was “again?” Sometimes I wonder about my life choices.
9:26 - Actually, if I’m going to wonder about my life choices, I should be blaming you lot of worthless lackwits. It’s your fault that I’m doing this in the first place.
9:27 - Yours and Dustin’s, I guess. Fuck you all.
9:28 - Seriously cat, stop staring at me. He’s actually very sweet but tonight he’s creeping me out. Although, maybe I’m creeping him out. Honestly, he’s too dumb to be creeped out by anything.
9:30 - Do peanut butter cups go with whiskey?
9:31 - They sure as shit do.
9:33 - Any of you who went “aw” at my earlier insult at my cat should know that he’s legitimately fucking stupid. He just fell off the couch. That’s not the first time it’s happened, either. Basically, the Clumsy Scale in this house goes: Ceili The Wonder Dog -> Louise the Small Black Dog of Death -> Mrs. TK -> Audrey the Three-Legged Beagle -> Me -> My three year-old son -> Desmond the Stupid Cat.
9:35 - The bottom of that last finger of Scotch went down like nails. Probably an anomaly. Best to try again to make sure. SCIENCE, MOTHERFUCKERS.
9:38 - I just shifted my position on my couch and ended up jabbing myself in the ass with a toy car. The perils of living with a toddler. Also, now that I’m staring at the blank screen, I see that it’s pretty much covered in tiny handprints. Kids are great.
9:39 - This was a really stupid idea.
9:40 - Seriously, is anyone still reading? Why? I mean, you can’t possibly be more bored than I am. If you are, you’re even more useless than I thought.
9:43 - This is still better than Safe Haven.
9:45 - After much careful analysis, I can tell you that there was definitely an anomaly. This current glass of Scotch is smooth fuckin’ sailing. Also, I can’t feel my face.
9:47 - I’m not convinced that this hasn’t actually been better than watching real television. I mean, at least there are no commercials, right?
9:48 - Hold me.
9:49 - I just said “why the fuck am I doing this again?” out loud in a dark room with no one in here but a judgmental fucking cat and a diminishing bottle of scotch. Pretty sure that my Batman artwork is staring at me in disapproval. Yeah, well fuck you too, Bruce. Who are you to tell me what’s normal. You’ve got Iron Man money and what are you doing with it, huh? Running around in a gray unitard. THAT’S RIGHT, YOU FUCK. GO CRY ABOUT YOUR DEAD FUCKING PARENTS SOMEWHERE, OK, AND STOP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT.
9:52 - This wasn’t my best idea.
9:55 - If my cat walked up to me, rubbed his head against me, and then unhinged his jaw and bit my head off right now, I wouldn’t be the least bit shocked.
come to me, sweet release of death
9:57 - I love my wife, but I’ve never been more glad that she wasn’t home. She doesn’t deserve to see this.
9:59 - [quietly humming the bars to The Misfits’ “Some Kinda Hate”]
10:00 - Fuck you all and die.