Over-indulging

I sometimes get scared that my relationship with crappy TV is like some peoples relationship with chocolate.  It tastes so good at the start, but after the tenth mouthful it gets sickly sweet and your mouth starts getting clammy but still you want more because it’s just too easy and biting off another chunk of chocolate isn’t exactly going to make much of a difference when you’ve already consumed more than your daily allowance of sugar.  And then you wonder why you even started eating it in the first place but then suddenly you don’t care because it’s just going into your mouth on autopilot.  It’s almost like gnawing on the same bone for a long time after you’ve stripped it of chicken, or wiping your mouth six times on a cup-cake instead of a napkin.  Is watching TV really as mind-numbing as some people make it out to be?  For the purpose of this argument, I’m going to pretend that Big Brother, The Only Way Is Essex, Made In Chelsea &c. do not exist.

Last night I lost my Desperate Housewives virginity.  In fact, I didn’t stop watching it till 1am.  And today I didn’t budge from my bed apart from to get my daily dosage of vitamins and take the dog on a walk.  The importance of “getting fresh air” has been drilled into me since I could barely crawl.  I obviously didn’t mind too much when I was trapped inside my mother’s womb for 9 months with nothing but some amniotic fluid to stare into.

Parents often complain if their children spend too much time watching TV or browsing the internet.  Is it because they don’t like the idea of their kids being trapped in their rooms all day being antisocial, or is it because they think TV and laptops are having a negative impact?  My response to such complaints revolves around “but we live in the countryside, what else am I supposed to do?”  Of course, going on walks and “playing” in the garden are among the numerous activities which I could be undertaking.  But the last time I checked, making sandcastles in the sandpit wasn’t number one on my list of priorities, or indeed socially acceptable for people my age.  Of course I could go shopping for clothes and handbags, but I’d probably get told off for spending all my money so facetiously.  “You can’t buy things just because you like them”.  Or I suppose I could find a job, but it seems that no-one will employ me in this financial crisis and sadly the local bank doesn’t need a waitress.  I tried, I tried.  Or maybe I could start volunteering at an OAP home?  But I’ve had it drilled into me that I should be earning money to start paying off my student debts so charity work is definitely off the radar.  I could always help my mother out by doing the ironing - that way I’m actually allowed to watch crappy TV.  Why?  Because I’ve proven that I can successfully multitask, thus being the perfect combination of woman and superhero.  Or maybe because no-one in their right mind would want to iron without some form of distraction.  Then again, I do have a bookshelf filled with some pretty powerful literature which I could always delve into if the mood takes my fancy.  But that would involve shutting myself in my room for hours on end as I devour volume after volume of Shakespeare.  Spending the day with a dead man is hardly the tip of the iceberg on my social calendar and doesn’t really resolve the issue of being antisocial.  I think I may have just singlehandedly proven that there’s not much more that I can currently do with my life besides lying in bed, watching TV all day. 

Most recently I used the excuse “I want to be a television producer so I need to watch TV to know what I’m talking about”.  Let’s just say it went down like wildfire.

Watch this space.

Montana