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There are days in which all you want is a big tub of Ben & Jerry, bad telly, bad fics and not a care in the world.
Taking in account the fact that I have two homes at my command, a TV, a VHS and DVD player and that from the 20th onwards i will have to start seriously thinking about what I want to do with my life, I had decided that this week was going to be such a week. My holiday. My only worry is to feed the goldfish.
I have to confess that after three days of such regime I am bored.
You see, I do not own a television set. I have a DVD player and a friend who very kindly let me watch the only things I care about on telly: House, Angel, and sport.
I have been looking forward to this all viewing experience, but one episode each of Everwood and Summerlands has been enough, I had a very scary experience watching "Guiding lights" for the first time in 20 years and discovering that not only the actors are the same, but that THEY STILL LOOK THE SAME. I reached the conclusion that soap actors are cryogenically kept between one shoot and the next. Not worth mentioning the endless gossip programmes about the lives of people about whom I couldn't care less, never watching television.
The only highlights are a police drama called "Carabinieri" only because the Maresciallo is really cute, and the Athletics world Championships because the sport commentator gives us such gems like the immortal "The aptly named Roger Black is the only white in an all black 400mt final" and even with his incompetent, racist and sexist commentary, men in lycra shorts doing very athletic gestures do it for me.
So, I think for my holiday I'll have to resort to old favourites: a couple of Tom Clancy novels, and then moving to not bad telly favourites: watching again "Beautiful things" to sing along to mama Cass and Awwh at the cute boys kissing, Season 1 Angel and House and when things get though, the though galls persuade the goldfish that a West Wing marathon (first three seasons only) is what we need. Horst will do it for food.
Taking in account the fact that I have two homes at my command, a TV, a VHS and DVD player and that from the 20th onwards i will have to start seriously thinking about what I want to do with my life, I had decided that this week was going to be such a week. My holiday. My only worry is to feed the goldfish.
I have to confess that after three days of such regime I am bored.
You see, I do not own a television set. I have a DVD player and a friend who very kindly let me watch the only things I care about on telly: House, Angel, and sport.
I have been looking forward to this all viewing experience, but one episode each of Everwood and Summerlands has been enough, I had a very scary experience watching "Guiding lights" for the first time in 20 years and discovering that not only the actors are the same, but that THEY STILL LOOK THE SAME. I reached the conclusion that soap actors are cryogenically kept between one shoot and the next. Not worth mentioning the endless gossip programmes about the lives of people about whom I couldn't care less, never watching television.
The only highlights are a police drama called "Carabinieri" only because the Maresciallo is really cute, and the Athletics world Championships because the sport commentator gives us such gems like the immortal "The aptly named Roger Black is the only white in an all black 400mt final" and even with his incompetent, racist and sexist commentary, men in lycra shorts doing very athletic gestures do it for me.
So, I think for my holiday I'll have to resort to old favourites: a couple of Tom Clancy novels, and then moving to not bad telly favourites: watching again "Beautiful things" to sing along to mama Cass and Awwh at the cute boys kissing, Season 1 Angel and House and when things get though, the though galls persuade the goldfish that a West Wing marathon (first three seasons only) is what we need. Horst will do it for food.
