Blogatron

Hi, my name is Hilatron, and I'm a trashoholic.

It's all because we don't have cable anymore. I wouldn't even be using again if it weren't for that, so you can blame goddamn AT&T and their damn high rates for the trouble I'm in now.

I was clean, man. I put the V.C. Andrews books in storage, even! Hey, hey, don't look at me like that. I wasn't going to read them again, I just wanted them around, sort of as a... as a reminder. So I could remember the shame I felt buying them, and I wouldn't be tempted to go through that again. That's it.

Okay, so maybe I read Once Is Not Enough, but big deal, so what? It was a going away present. What was I supposed to do, say no? I mean, that would have been plenty rude, wouldn't it? And I swear, I've hardly even looked at it sitting next to Valley of the Dolls on my bookshelf since I finished it. I mean doesn't it say something to you that I could just have that lying around and it didn't even affect me at all, really? I was doing FINE.

And then the cable thing just messed me all up.

See, we don't have cable, because fucking AT&T only wants to line their dirty pockets with blood money, they don't care if their outrageous high cable rates turn perfectly normal people into raving addicts - no, I'm sorry. I'll calm down. I realize that I'm partly to blame. But let me tell you what happened and maybe you'll understand.

So we don't have cable, right? But we do get a few channels, one of them being the WE network. Anyway, one night I'm sitting down to dinner and I flip on the TV and there's nothing on the, like, three channels I usually watch, but there's this movie on WE with Candace Bergen in it. So I'm watching, figuring I'm safe, because hey, that's Murphy Brown, man! I mean, she's intellectual! No danger, right? Well, wouldn't you know it, before I know what hits me, there's Suzanne Somers on the screen, and there's Angie Dickinson, and there's a whole lot of 80's designer fashion, and I suddenly realize I'm watching the TV miniseries of Hollywood Wives. I didn't have a chance. If we had had Comedy Central, I never would have gone near that thing, I swear.

But I tell myself, hey, I'll just watch a little of this while I eat dinner, and maybe catch some of it tomorrow night, seeing as how it's a miniseries. It's not like I'm committing to anything, like reading a book. But then, you know how it goes, the next night I'm running late and miss some of it, and the night after that I miss some really important stuff, so there's all this action at the end that just doesn't make any sense. I told myself, hey, it doesn't matter, it's just trash, you know what that stuff does to your brain, blah blah blah, but I was gone by that point, of course. I HAD to know every improbable, salacious detail. The very next day, boom! There I am, first in line at the library, signing up for a card with the sweaty palms, the shaky knees, the whole bit. I headed straight for the C aisle, scooped up Hollywood Wives and a couple of respectable books to hide my shame from the other patrons, and headed for the checkout desk. I couldn't look the guy in the eye, man. I know he wasn't fooled by the Alice Munro novel. He knew what the real prize was, the bastard.

So that's where I am, back on the stuff. I know, I know. But I really think that if I just get this one out of my system, I'll be okay. It's just a momentary setback.

Oh, don't even mention her to me. No way! No way will I ever read Danielle Steele. The very thought grosses me out. I do have some limits, you know. You don't have to worry about me, man. It's all good.

Posted by hilatron at August 29, 2002 11:24 PM