The plan was to follow up my stirring, nearly 1200-word opus on how long winded I can be including (bonus!) coverage of the rules around here with a considerably less exciting, but crazy insightful review of the new Apple TV unit currently resting happily in our (my) audio visual stack. While I’m sure you’re all going to be terribly disappointed to hear this, that’s unfortunately just going to have to wait for another day.
Sadly, it’s not because I have some other fiery topic I feel compelled to pop off about. No, I didn’t win a habanero-eating contest today that ultimately turned my digestive track to the Seventh Ring of Hell; no, I don’t have a story about how I got cut off in traffic today which led me (somehow) to the realization that all Barbie Dolls are tools of a government conspiracy; and sadly, no, I didn’t have one of those touchingly reflective moments today where I realized that my kids are growing up too fast.
Well, actually, that happens almost every day, but if I wrote about it all the time, you guys would start going elsewhere for you rambling, snarky silliness.
So, then, if not because I have something more interesting
to relate, why am I sparing you the fanboy-style ode of devotion to my Apple TV? Well, because I’m just too tired to do it justice and apparently have been since Friday. As a result I couldn’t begin to make it even mildly worth reading, and I’d hate to blow rule #2 just a day after revealing that entertainment is a priority around here.
I say that it’s been since Friday because I haven’t been able to make it through a single thing I’ve tried to watch during late-night Me-Time since then. That was the night I first hooked the Apple TV up, and I was all pumped to stream a show from Netflix. I’d been waiting to see that particular show for over a month, so I was happy like a knothole team at the pizza parlor when I fired that bad boy up. Several hours later, I woke up in my recliner looking at the end credits for my show with a stiff neck and no recollection of what happened, kind of like waking up at a frat house.
Saturday and Sunday were no better. After putting the finishing touches on my Triumphant Milestone Post, I sat down with an Arrogant Bastard and Prince of Persis: The Sands of Time
on DVD. At 3 o’clock in the morning, the Puddinette politely yet insistently suggested I quit being a fool and come to bed. I doubt I even made it half-way through the movie, although I haven’t checked yet. Last night I decided to watch this week’s DVR’d Boardwalk Empire (which I’m not sold on yet, but that’s another post) after playing hockey. Guess who’s going to have to fast-forward to the last part he can remember seeing?
So, I spent the weekend falling asleep in my recliner instead of compiling a list of things to say about my new toy. Basically, I just got no game. Maybe tonight I should try to get to bed at a decent hour instead of nodding off wherever I happen to be sitting.
But then, where’s the fun in that? At least this way I get the sense of what a werewolf feels like the morning after a full-moon, minus the inconvenience of being naked.