Thank you, DVR

I Heart my DVR. I arrived a little late on the scene, but I'm a total convert now. Writer strikes can be frightening. Then I think, "But I watch reality t.v. shows. Those don't have writers. I will be OK." And this is (sort of) true and reality t.v. marches on.

And then my Dancing with the Stars threatens me with Celine Dion and I fast forward. Thank you, DVR. I can still love the show. And I get to watch Chef Ramsay insult everyone in sight (although I only get to hear bleeps and yet I secretely admire Gordon) and the Survivor people execute an excellent move to eliminate a threat. And I am happy.

And my Dancing with the Stars goes away, but I have my Extreme Makeover Home Edition stored up to watch in a sniffling marathon. Thank you, Ty.

And then I watch all my stored up reality shows. I am afraid again.
But I have 50 hours of worthless movies to watch, movies that I would never pay to see but they are certainly good enough to take up space on my DVR. And I am OK again. And I sort of enjoy The Librarian: Return to Kind Solomon's Mines (and then I realize that I have sort of enjoyed overacting, slightly strange special effects and cliches like a weird African manservant named Jombo and I am afraid again.)

So, I still thank my DVR. But I need to go out and get a book. Or maybe a life.
But getting a book is definitely easier.

Sorry. It was either this or more Christmas ornaments. I'm a little worried about tomorrow.