Idiot Box

Is it too much to ask to go and pump some stupid gas and not have a TV blaring nonsense at me while I'm doing it? Can I just go, fuel up, inhale noxious fumes and stare at the pump, contemplating what else I could have done with that $30? Seriously, it takes like 3 minutes to fill up. I'd like to spend it in a moment of Zen-like peace, or at least be able to squeegee my windows without some tool screaming at me from a TV screen mounted above the gas pump. We already have idiots pumping gas while sucking on a cigarette or talking on their stupid cellphones: do we need a bunch of yahoos spraying gas all over the place because they were watching a segment about Star Jones' weave.

The worst is when every pump at the gas station has one of these things on top of it and they are all blaring at full volume, but are all like, an eighth of a second from being completely in synch with one another. It's an endless echo of insanity that I could do without. I don't need to be marketed to every time I step out on public, thanks, and I'm actually fine with not being entertained every second of my waking life.

Speaking of entertainment, I also don't appreciate paying $89 for a movie ticket and then being forced to watch commercials before the movie starts. Let's try paying Reese Witherspoon a little less, instead.

Speaking of irritating: now those things in the drugstore that they mount to the shelves to dole out coupons come with tiny monitors that talk to you while you're trying to buy some damn shampoo. Like, SHUT. UP. First of all, no. Secondly, sometimes I like to listen to the sweet sounds of Mr. Michael MacDonald or Ambrosia as I wander the aisles, OK? So I don't need some tiny woman squawking at me from a tiny monitor and telling me to buy lotion. I'll decide when I need lotion, thanks. I don't need you inflaming my touch of Aspberger's in the meantime. Maybe that's what the lotion is for.

Hanging on the Telephone.

Conference calls suck. You can't see anyone's face or body to judge what they're REALLY trying to say, and there's always some jackass dialing in from the street who can't hear what's being said because of sirens, horns honking or screaming homeless people. I was on a call today and wondered what would happen if I just started making oinking noises. Or just flat-out started saying, very softly, "Oink. Oink. Oink." Would anyone say anything? Someone try it and tell me.

Here are some conference call archetypes:
1. Darth Vader - the guy with emphysema who pulls the heavy breathing routine
2. The Aggressively Clueless - the one who asks dumb questions about stuff that was JUST EXPLAINED
3. The Babysitter/Dog Whisperer - the one with the wailing baby or rabid dog barking in the background. "Don't mind me. I'm just half-assedly supervising a hoard of 10 year olds who are demanding some purple stuff."
4. The Overtalker - won't let anyone get a word in edgewise
5. The "I Called this Damn Meeting but Can't be Bothered to Phone in on Time and Therefore I will Make you Listen to the Muzak Version of Huey Lewis and the News' Happy to be Stuck with You While You're on Hold Waiting for this Godforesaken Meeting to Begin"

Any others?

P.S. It's my birthday next week and I'm asking for that ALF phone.

DVRage

You know what stinks? When you program your DVR to "tape" (yes, I still say this. I also use the phrase "ice box" for refrigerator and "turn the channel" to indicate that I would prefer watching something else on TV) a show and it cuts off the last minute or two. ANNOYING. If the program doesn't run exactly on the hour, the DVR should know this, no?

Usually, the only negative effect this has on me is causing me to miss out on the previews for next week's "Top Chef", and since they run commercials on Bravo for the show approximately every 6 seconds, that's not a huge deal.

But on Sunday, I watched a very long, very boring, very dorky "Very Duggar Wedding." This was the "very special episode" of that show where the parents have like 64 kids as a penance for goofing up their birth control once and suffering a miscarriage. So now they have 136 kids and their own church or something. Evidently, their oldest is like 18 so it's time for him to be married off and start a cult of his own. Intriguing was the fact that prior to the wedding, the bride and groom had not so much as smooched. I think they were permitted to exchange a rousing high-five when they got engaged, but that's about it.

So after an hour of like, lame wacky hijinx ("We Saran-wrapped their car shut!"), they finally get married, the dude becomes the bride's master, blah blah blah, and then suddenly everyone is at the local Red Roof Inn to I guess engage in some sort of weird, medieval villagers-gathering-to-make-sure-the-marriage-is-consummated kind of a thing (Or something - I was simultaneously looking up Virgania Horsen SNL sketches on Hulu). Just as an uncle or one of the 48 brothers (or maybe the dad, JimBob) is sliding a key card into the door of their hotel room (thereby revealing whatever debauchery was going inside - hand holding?!?!), my DVR cut out. What the?! Now I'll never know what went on in there.

On second thought, thanks, DVR.