teeeveeee

I remember watching a forgettable movie/program where a character laments something about suburbanites isolating themselves with cable TV. Ever since the household upgraded to Verizon's FiOS, my face time with the boob tube has increased 200%. Which means my suburban visa has been extended.

I mean it's exciting to know that I can watch GOLDEN GIRLS on not only Hallmark Channel, but also WETV and the Family Network. Let's talk about how easy it is to eat your feelings on estrogen alley that spans from Lifetime Movie Network to Soap Opera Net.. The liberal in me wants to watch currentTV all day where 20something newscasters say shit like "yeah, man, things in Palestine are totally messed up" (direct quote) while the art fag wants to watch documentaries about Jeff Koons and Ray Johnson on Ovation TV (MAKE LIFE CREATIVE). The real fag snickers at Logo(and cringes at old US Queer as Folk episodes), but I pay my fairy dues by watching shows like Beautiful People which oddly resembles my sissy middle school years. And then there's the guilty pleasures of Degrassi marathons where I wish my high school years were that dramatic. Though NYC Prep on Bravo hits too close to home.

For other members of the household: My Dad, the WWII history buff, can escape to 5 History Channels, including THE MILITARY CHANNEL (???). My mom can redecorate our house again by following tips from not only HGTV, but also DIY, which sadly does not take place in a West Philly basement show, but in the collective cul-de-sac of boom years past.

The upside: I am so ready for water cooler conversations that I always avoided and can pick up any meeting with clients by referencing the Office. Downside: holy shit I stay up all night watching Twin Peaks marathons on the Crime and Investigation Network. I am currently terrified that Laura Palmer's murderer is going to dice me up and James (<3)/Agent Cooper are twenty years too old to save me.

a mother's day post for father's day

If you don't know my mother, she is a complete control freak. So it's no wonder that she planned her pregnancy exactly one year after she married my father. She married him sixth months after they met at a party. Prior to that she turned down three proposals because she felt her suitors lacked certain qualifications to raise a proper (Catholic) family. Suitor A had a bad temper, Suitor B had a moody orthodox family, or Suitor C worked as prison psychologist. All justifiable I suppose. Typically, nothing really surprises my mother and she is always prepared, but she was thrown off guard when my father mumbled a proposal over dinner. "I couldn't understand what he was babbling about and all I wanted to do was eat my fish." I like her word choice of babble, because she always implores me to quit babbling whenever I'm expressing my emotions on full blast. I'm sure my dad's nerves were high as well.  I wonder if he had been circulating scenarios is his head: You know, interrupting dinner to get on the Hollywood knee, woo her with the question she has been waiting to hear all her life.  Or not. 

But my mother had no patience for silver screen romanticism, and wanted him to get to the point, so that she could eat her fish. Though, my mother did find my father not only charming, but much more suitable than her previous flames.  However, if marriage was now on the table, the terms would have to be negotiated. No baby until a year has passed to ensure that all parties were committed. After a year, plans would be implemented as long as it would be baptized Catholic.  My parents passed the one year milestone and I assume they began to make preparations. 

As my parents continued to plot my debut, they also scheduled a trip to Quebec to celebrate their anniversary. It would be on the New York Thruway where my mother would realize that pregnancy would follow its own schedule and arrive unannounced in spite of vigorous planning. While thrilled that she and my father succeeded, she was disappointed to learn that she would have to forgo wine with dinner while frequenting Quebec City's finest restaurants. 

P.S. my parents both abhorred this song, and totally reveled their dislike for it by rocking out to it on full volume circa 1996.

live blogging from the dinner table

Mother: Oh I would get the white, how should I say this, "pottery style" dish set, but it chips easily. I think I'm going to go with Nantucket Basket. The same set I gave Wendy for her wedding gift. 
Uncle: Well, as long as you don't get them in black like our brother did. He said it made the food look better. HMMPH.  
Grandmother: His taste is simply too contemporary.
Father: I remember when he first got that set after he moved back to D.C. He lived in that dreadful basement apartment. The one where you had to trip over his parasail to get to the kitchen. HA!

Uncle: You're right. That was right off Connecticut Ave. 

Mother: And then he and John bought that much nicer colonial townhouse north of Georgetown. I wish they still had that place. The condo in Dupont is hardly impressive. 

Son: Mom, their old house was up on a steep hill and far from any public transportation. It was too residential. I like their new place. It's close to Whole Foods, restaurants, the metro, and other stuff. Plus, the windows provide a good amount of natural lighting [of course I would say this].

Uncle: You're right. It is closer to downtown. 

Mother: Spencer, they paid all that money for a view of the parking lot with a foul-looking dumpster.