My beacon's been moved under moon and star

Something weird is going on around here. It's a new something weird.  Perhaps it's sunspots or some electromagnetic field emanating from all the back to school ions.  I've considered and dismissed any supernatural interference.  I'm not  interesting enough to have my own poltergeist.

It started this morning when I turned on the TV to see the weather. I noticed immediately that something was wrong with our DishNetwork because the channel that normally houses Turner Classic Movies showed something decidedly not classic, nor terribly theatrical.  The woman in the lab coat spoke Spanish while an 800 number crawled the bottom of the screen.

I investigated.

Food Network was now Pakastani TV resplendent with waving flags and echoing commercials.  HGTV appeared to be something from China.  Maybe Korea.  C-SPAN was, we assumed, coming from Japan.  The newsreaders bowed to one another.

"This is odd."

MathMan had to get himself and Nate out on time so he showed barely a passing interest. He must have forgotten that I'm banned from tinkering with the electronics.

Sophia and I watched a few minutes of something that looked suspiciously like Full House except it was in Russian. Possibly Greek.  And Uncle Jesse was some punk girl with a head full of long, dark hair.

Slowly, channels came back on line.  When Fox News returned and MSNBC continued to be some sort of French news broadcast, I considered the possibility of a right wing conspiracy.  My ability to understand the channels is usually the other way around - it's Fox News that doesn't make sense to me.  But then MSNBC, HGTV, and whatever channel it is that's obsessed with Little People came back.  Not that there's anything wrong with Little People, but how many shows following around Little People while they live their lives do we need?

Anyway, I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out my phone to post a Facebook status.

"Have TV again, breakfast is made, hubby and teen on their way to school, tween in the shower, the sun is shining and laundry is going.  Life is good."

Mid-crisis, shame and practical issues prevented me from contacting DishNetwork.  If I reach out to them now, they're just going to demand I pay my bill already.  They'll get paid what we owe, of course, but since we've been considering letting Dish become the latest casualty of our fiscal revamping, it might just do to let the service run out.  A natural death of sorts.  My main concern is for all those programs tied up on the DVR.  Poirots, Sherlock Holmes, a whole mess of Miss Marples, several Alfred Hitchcock movies.  I never remember to ask MathMan to show me how to record them onto dvds until it's too late, he's too tired or someone is watching something else on TV.

Still - in the grand scheme, losing a bunch of programs is nothing.  Nada. Rien.  Diddlysquat.

Later, other things started going wrong.  First, the DVD player became uncooperative.  The menu wouldn't come up.  The fast forward and reverse buttons revolted.  I changed the batteries to no avail.  If a change of batteries doesn't fix the problem, what next?  Sledgehammer?  Elephant gun?

Throwing the thing across the room is largely frowned upon in this household.  Being a good example is such a drag.

Adding to the electronic curiosities was the fact that when I pushed the remote's volume button, it would shift the sound up to 100 without stopping.  When I pushed it to decrease, it scrolled all the way to 0.  The only way to get it to stop at a somewhat decent volume was to play a sort of game - push the increase volume button and then quickly push it again where it would stop and stay on say level 16.

The final straw was a visit to the upper channels - the Island of Misfit Toys of the movie channels.  Not the premium channels.

Oh, that movie may have been British.  It was made in the 1990s or 2000s.  It was set on a country estate.  But that movie was not Howard's End.  There was no Helena Bonham Carter, no Emma Thompson, no Sir Anthony Hopkins.  I did recognize one of the male leads.  Matthew Goode.  He played  Patrick Simmons in Agatha Christie's A Murder is Announced and was most recently in A Single Man, but I only know that from IMB.  I haven't seen the movie.  Dang it.  A little research tells me what was being passed off as Howard's End was actually Brideshead Revisited.

"Do you suppose all of this electronic humbuggery is due to some cloud around me?  I have been rather difficult, putting off bad vibes and all."  The cat to whom I directed my question yawned and tucked her head under her paw.  "I don't suppose Dish Network would give us a month of free service in exchange for having messed with my head."  The cat remained indifferent.

I realize this is more of the same - modern day complaints.  Back when a person like me would have been out feeding the chickens in a blizzard or poisoning herself with bluing while laundering the Lord's and Lady's bloomers, the notion that pushing a button would cause so much fretting and consternation would have made us peasants laugh with our toothless mouths wide open. But I live now and I have certain expectations and when I turn on the television and can understand Fox and Friends better than I can understand anything else on TV, I think I'm entitled to a little modern day groaning.

I mean, a person can only take so much, right?


What buttons are you pushing today?

I Couldn't Remember the Name of the Show with Winnie Cooper

So I called MathMan from my sick bed. He was at his desk in the other room. I called him on the phone.

And thankfully, he had the answer because it would have driven my crazy if I didn't know, but I was too lazy and distracted to google it.

I don't know, but I ended up watching VH1's I Love the New Millennium. Because the history that just happened in 2005 has to be relived right now, that's why.

The following conversations were prompted by having this program on.....

Garbo: I think there should be a television show called "I Love (Garbo's real name)."
Me: No self esteem problems there.
MathMan: Are you kidding me? She's all self-esteem. There's nothing else there.
Garbo: What?!?!
MathMan: All that crying you were doing - you don't care who sees you cry.
Garbo: You're right. I don't.

Me: I'm taking steroids.
The Actor: What? Why?
Me: I'm taking parenting steroids. That's what makes me a great mom.
The Actor: That's what makes you so good at sitting around in bed.
Me: It's been nice knowing you. Enjoy the workhouse, yo.

Garbo: I want to be a vampire.
Me: Me, too.
Garbo: You can't be a vampire. You're a mom.
Me: That's true - only kids are blood suckers.
Garbo: I think my fangs are growing in.

MathMan: Actor, please stop growling like that.
The Actor: How do you want me to growl?
MathMan: I don't want you to growl? I want mom to growl.
Me: Rowrowrowrowrowrowr
The Actor: Gross, people. Just gross.

The Actor: Why wouldn't dad buy me a hotdog?
Me: Because he bought you a hamburger.
The Actor: Yeah, but I wanted a Big Mac and a hot dog.
Me: Nope. You got McDonalds. That's all.
The Actor (who can talk a blue streak): Actually I wanted a Big Mac and a cheeseburger with pickles. Then I saw a commercial for Taco Bell. But dad should have gotten me a hot dog, too........now I have the eater's remorse.
(This conversation was punctuated by lots of coughing. Nasty.)

And now we commence our time of silence.

Before I go - a favor, please. Click this link, scroll down and vote for Nora O'Sullivan. You know who Nora is? She's Bubs daughter. If you don't, my cold will get worse, I'll cough up my other lung and it's quite possible that Garbo might lose a tiny fraction of her self-esteem.

You wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you?

When We Did It, We Called It The Lifestyle

A blogpal emailed me the application to appear on Wife Swap, along with this note:

I did something really silly, I applied for my family to participate on Wife Swap. My religious background was the hook for the show, so yours wouldn't be the same. But, interesting families are what they're looking for and yours is right up there.

They pay (dollar amount deleted) two weeks after the show airs and you get to travel first class somewhere around the country, while your family back home terrorizes some poor woman.

I included an application if you want to know what they want to know. They also do a background check to make sure you're not a sociopath, or a convicted sex offender, as well as psychological screening. They want interesting, but not bat-shit crazy. It's a Disney show after all.

So, think a bout it. In my case, an extra twenty grand could go really, really far.

First of all, the very idea cracked me up, as did Crevass's cover note. I responded with a quick thank you and said that I'd think about it.

And I did think about it. Alot. I asked MathMan what he thought about it. Unfortunately, I picked the wrong time, when he was distracted. "Hey, honey, would you want to go on Wife Swap?" I asked out of the blue while we were puttering around in the kitchen.

He closed the cabinet he'd just finished emptying so we could pack up some things and muttered, "I thought you wanted to lose a few more pounds before we started doing that again."

Have mercy.

I asked The Dancer. She simply rolled her eyes as if she's heard one too many of these get rich quick schemes from me. What a tart. When pressed and convinced with the idea that the money earned from the show could be applied toward her tuition, she conceded. Some. "If they choose us, it better be after I've left for school."

Noted.

Then I asked The Actor and Garbo their opinions. At first they were incredulous. Or maybe really groggy because I asked them as we drove to school. After I'd convinced them that I was really considering it, they started asking questions. Veteran viewers of the program, they had a pretty good idea of what the producers would be looking for.

"So if we're going to be on it, we need to think of what an opposite family would do," announced Garbo.

The Actor offered further clarification. "It' really has to do a lot with how the mom in the family is so we have to think about what the other mom would be like."

The two of them set about tossing out ideas.

"It could be a mom who never cusses and doesn't allow any cussing." Boring! was the verdict.
"It could be a fundamentalist Christian mom." They've done that to death.
"A Republican?" "A health nut?" "A mom who hates music?"
"It could be a flat chested mom," offered Garbo. Oh, nice. Very nice. And no.
"I know! It could be a mom who thinks computers and electronics are the tool of the devil and who doesn't blog!"

They agreed that would be perfect. They could stand to learn something from a mom who answers questions with something besides "Google it" or "Well, if it isn't in the Urban Dictionary, it can't possible be true."

Finally, I opened the application and read the questions. I kept thinking about what Crevass had said, "They also do a background check to make sure you're not a sociopath, or a convicted sex offender, as well as psychological screening. They want interesting, but not bat-shit crazy." Hmmmm.

Then I got to question that asked which adult in the family "wears the pants?" Yeesh. Now there's an outdated euphemism. The twelve year old trapped inside me wanted to note that both MathMan and I wear pants. Sometimes. Except on those days when we go without. Oh and on the second Tuesday of the month, MathMan wears a kilt for giggles.

Sure, sure - I get it. Who's in charge? Talk about a snag. I mean, I just asked MathMan who wears the pants in our family and you know what his answer was? You guessed it - "We both wear pants. The question is, who wears the frillier underwear?"

What a sexist thing to say. I took a running leap at him, attempting to deliver a death blow to his temple (I'll show him frilly underwear!), but I missed and landed on my back flat on the floor, MathMan threw the chocolate pudding he was holding at me and then shouted something nasty in Hebrew. I must have blacked out at that point because when I came to, the county sheriff's deputy was there taking statements from the neighbors. MathMan was sitting mute, covered in leaves and grass. Upon closer inspection, I noticed he wasn't wearing his pants.

The deputy mentioned that the house appeared to be in quite the state of squalor (hey! we're packing to move, dumbass!) and our neighbor from across the way shook his head sadly, "Weeelll, the've always been kind of loud, but they kept mostly to themselves," he spoke softly to the deputy who was still surveying the living room with a look of shock on his face.

I looked down and realized that I was tied to a chair in the middle of the living room and a fire was blazing away in the fireplace behind me. I tried to twist around in my chair to see what was on the fire that was making that terrible smell.

"Excuse me," I croaked to the deputy and Mr. Neighbor. "What's burning?"

The deputy's eyes flickered over me and then he exchanged a quick smile with our neighbor. I cleared my throat, getting anxious and impatient. Both men looked my way again and the deputy pulled a serious face.

"Well, ma'am, that's a laptop in the fireplace," he said. I could hear the hint of laughter in his voice.

Mr. Neighbor craned his neck and looked around me at the fireplace. I could feel the heat against my back and I was getting really uncomfortable. Why weren't these yahoos untying me already? My head hurt. My back hurt.

Mr. Neighbor took in a sharp breath. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Ah think there are actually two laptop computers in that fireplace," he choked out, bobbing his balding head up and down.

"What?" I shrieked, struggling to turn in the chair. Damn those ropes were tight! I started to go berserk, fighting against the restraints and wriggling about. MathMan turned his head and watched silently and expressionless as the chair and I toppled over. I lay on my back again, my feet, ankles bound together, in the air. It was then that I noticed that I wasn't wearing any pants either.

I guess we'll have to find another way to earn that (dollar amount deleted) because Disney will never call us now.