Since we moved — and just to be clear, we live on the outskirts of a town that is at least 20 miles outside of Radiator Springs — we have broken down and gotten satellite television. We figured it was either that or nothing, in a very absolute way; and when you live this far out there isn’t much to do for entertainment (have I mentioned that one of the more or less anchor stores in the Radiator Springs mall is Dollar Tree?), so we didn’t think we could actually go t.v. free.
Anyway, now that we have satellite t.v. (the cheapest package, of course) new vistas have opened up for us. For example:
BYUTV — The twice yearly internet church (General Conference) is now officially television church in our household! Yay! No more dropped connections during a particularly interesting or inspirational talk. You wouldn’t believe the amount of bandwidth we Mormons suck up during General Conference
iCarly — How did we survive all these years without a bunch of seventh-graders yelling into our family room? Happy, mad, surprised, sad, hungery, tired, it doesn’t matter what the emotion is these young “actors” are supposed to be portraying, they yell. Always. iHateThem.
Yo Gabba Gabba — For the love of all that’s holy. Were the makers of this show stoned? Would I enjoy it more if I were stoned? How did Elijah Wood’s career tank this badly? I actually heard once that Yo Gabba Gabba was the brain-child of some former BYU students. Initially I had a hard time believing this, knowing that chances were very slim that they would have been drunk at the time, but then I remembered my own years at BYU and some of the ideas my friends and I came up with while perfectly sober, so anything is possible I suppose.
Do It Yourself Channel — The things I can do with just paint!!!!!!!!!! And bird baths that can be converted to bistro tables in a matter of seconds!!!!!! Who would’ve thought?
Dora the Explorer — Gag. Puke. Vomit. And the inspiration for this post to begin with. For some inexplicable reason (perhaps that I feel like I’m getting the flu) I’m letting those who want to watch Dora the Ginormous-headed Explorer.
Anyway, I was just standing precariously (a bit dizzy, you see) in my kitchen (which I will post pictures of one of these days because it is so much nicer than my last kitchen) making cookies (because if I am getting the flu I won’t feel like eating for a few days, so might as well inhale snickerdoodles now) when I heard a plaintive, “Mommy!”
By three in the afternoon I’ve usually heard all of the plaintive, whiny, screamed, bellowed, and otherwise-kid-intoned “Mommy!”s that I can reasonably take for one day. So I heard this plaintive calling of my title, felt my skin crawl, and, with an Oscar worthy appearance of calm, looked to see who needed me.
It was a whizzle, or wizzle, or something like that. I didn’t really sit and watch the show to see what was going on, but apparently Dora was going to help this little wizzle thing find it’s mom and dad.
Wizzle? Really?!? Now who’s stoned? I only ever took French in school, but isn’t whizzle Spanish (or hip-hop?) for “what drunk men do on the street corner or side of a building so that their bladders don’t explode”? The darned thing was even yellow.
Maybe I misheard Dora the Androgynous Explorer. Maybe it was a fizzle. Sure would be nice if the show did a quick fizzle. Then Dora and Elijah could do the Puppet Master together on Yo Gabba Gabba and we’d all have to go into hiding for only one half hour each day (okay, an hour since I can’t figure out a way to get iCarly back into this scenario).
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says please don’t raise your knee, or your other knee, or your foot, or your other foot, and whizzle in his pond.