Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Oh For Christ Sake

I get home to an empty house last night around 6:30 looking forward to pizza, a cold Coors (not Coors Light; the original Coors, baby) and a movie.

Settle into my illegally cushy recliner with a plate on my lap and a Coors to my right and zap on the TV. Just to entertain me while I eat. Everybody knows you can't search for a movie and enjoy pizza at the same time; it just isn't right; it just doesn't work.

Too many goddamn choices, too many places to go. HBO, Amazon Prime, Netflix. If you don't have a specific movie in mind then you must troll. And trolling takes time; it takes attention.

I would rather enjoy my meat lovers pizza (each slice weighs about 8 pounds) in peace.

The tube was tuned to the NFL Network because I had scoped it out a little in the morning before heading off to work.

They were running a replay of THE PATS/broncos game, for Christ sake. It was in the fourth quarter and I watched it. I watched it, goddamn it.

Allowing myself to sit there and watch this thing was like, for instance, say I was in an action-suspense movie and somebody from across the room fired a gun at my head. Say all of a sudden everything was in slow motion. The bullet was coming straight for my skull. Suspend disbelief and assume I could have moved. I could have ducked. But I didn't.

And the bullet entered my skull, which exploded like a ripe melon.

That is how it felt to watch this thing and I sat there and watched it.

Right now I feel like a guy who lost a bar fight. I got a couple of broken ribs, a black eye, a broken nose and a mild concussion. What I need is rest. Peace. What I need is to stay away from that bar.

What do I do instead? I watch THE PATS lose again. I go right back to the bar.

I extended my convalescence by three days last night.

AND it poisoned my night. I chose to watch The Loft. Sounded like an interesting premise.

The movie sucked. I shut it down after an hour.

Unrequited, I looked around some more and came across a documentary about making Scotch in Islay, Scotland.

It was pretty damn interesting and salvaged my night.

Still, from now on I will power up the TV warily. Who knows when the next time will come around that I stumble upon THE PATS spiritual beating again.

I am fragile right now. I just can't handle it.

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