I tried to watch Homeland the other day and I had to rewind the first five minutes five times, before I turned it off. Not because it isn’t a great show. I’m sure it is. I couldn’t watch it because of my attention span. After having my four-year-old, my attention span is that of, well…a four-year-old.
The minute my daughter’s head hits the pillow, I run to the recliner and meditate during reality TV, the CW and comedies or dramas about parents. As long as I’m wearing yoga pants and do long, deep breathing it counts as yoga, right? Wine counts as grape juice, right?
My mind is mush and I need my fix of something stupid to make me feel smart. Or, maybe something stupid to make me feel better about my boring life. I’m tired and I can’t take anything intellectually stimulating or remotely complex.
Halfway through Game of Thrones, I realized that I had already hit play. Zombie mommy got the antidote and had to restart the show again. The problem: I keep getting reinfected, until it’s past my bedtime. Play, zone out, rewind and repeat.
Let’s face it, with Reality TV, if I miss an episode or two or three, I’ll still get a 10 or 15-minute recap of the previous shows. If I miss a few minutes because I’m cooking, cleaning, tweeting or just zoning out, Kim Kardashian will still be whining about how difficult her “career” is.
Then there is my escapist meditation. If I’m watching Keeping up with the Kardashians, I’m Kooky Kardashian. The normal one who never gets filmed because Kris thinks I’m too strange and I’m not interesting enough for E!. If I’m watching The Bachelorette, I’m Emily’s sidekick that she never listens to. I’d scream and tell her to run away from Arie, but she just wouldn’t listen. If I’m watching Survivor, I’m the one who lays low and seems too boring to get camera time, but everyone lets listen in on their conversations. Sneaky, sneaky.
Then there is my obsession with teen TV. I love the nostalgia of feeling like I’m reliving high school or college again. I would really like a do-over on the whole high school thing. John Hughes has sadly passed away, so I rely on the CW and, dare I say it, MTV. The scripted shows on MTV are actually pretty good. Okay, maybe they’re all scripted. The shows that are meant to look scripted. I like to pretend I watch these shows so I can keep up with the youth and understand my daughter better when she’s a teenager. Yeah, right. I’m more like a teenage poser.
Almost everyone had a little bit of Jenna from Awkward in them, when they went to high school. The Inbetweeners is like The Wonder Years meets American Pie or Roadtrip. I like to pretend I live on the Upper East Side and wear $2000 dresses, while I cheat on my boyfriend with my hot, new professor. Blair will be mad at me and Gossip Girl will catch me in the act, but I’m the IT girl and I don’t care. Naughty, naughty.
Last but not least, there is Parenthood. Each season, I close my eyes and cross my fingers this show will not get canceled. I want to be an honorary Braverman. As a parent, this show is a roller coaster of emotions. I laugh, I cry, I sigh and I can relate. It’s the one show that I watch no matter how tired I am. It feels like I’m going to my second home for an hour.
Then there is my obsession with zombies, which would take an entire post by itself. Stay tuned.
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