Wednesday, October 17, 2012

No politics before bedtime!

What was I thinking?

Aiiight, boyz. Let's do this.

E was gone last night and I got myself completely spun up watching the debate. Like, crazy tense, even for me. I claim that this is only partially my fault. If we're being honest, that whole Real Housewives reunion-style Town Hall dealie was imagined solely with the purpose of getting me all excited and shouty (I half expected Andy Cohen to come out and ask the candidates to play "Marry, Shag, Kill..."). I was talking to my TV. I was taking sides. I was laughing at the smirks they were each making while the other talked. I was judging their shoes and the audience member's bangs. Big time.

I was enjoying the fight. I was glad I was not in it, but I was deliciously invested in their squabbling.  Classic Heather Reality-TV-Reunion Response.

Let my message here be clear: I want more reality TV in my political television. Ooh, I loved it. Perhaps next time Romney can wear a pirate costume or Obama can be sipping some Pinot Grigio.  There can be tables for flipping and someone can have a pregnancy scare. They already brought the thinly-veiled hatred, the awkward and rehearsed zingers and the stomping around the stage. And SOMEONE NAMED CANDY WAS RUNNING THE SHOW. All we needed was Tyra Banks with a handful of photos to pass out. "The next name that I am going to call is..." {DRAMATIC PAUSE.} We could do that and then Heidi Klum could kiss the loser auf wiedersehen. Anyway. I was into it. A little too into it, if we're being truthful, and I found myself in a state.

So the debate was over and it was, like, 8:00 and I was a GIANT BALL OF EXCITEMENT! I had twitter open and the Facebooks and I was texting my little heart out. I could not get enough of this stuff. I blew up my poor friends' Facebook feeds with ridiculous commentary. I was flipping channels like a madwoman to see what the post-debate response was and refreshing my feeds like it was 2001 and I was on dialup. I tuned in to Jon Stewart even though I knew he wouldn't get to it until the next day. I was fiending for jokes about Lady Binders... And then I was like,

Wait. Heather. Let's pause for a moment. You have to work tomorrow. Remember why we don't watch sports?

And then I had this moment of very serious contemplation about the meaning of my life. Because I DON'T watch sports. On purpose. You know why? Because my life is complicated enough. I don't like to be mad/sad/glad/tense arbitrarily about things that don't matter. I don't like to hand off the responsibility for my emotions to outside forces. Any outside forces. Sorry, Candy. And while I 100% believe that politics matter, for real, in my real life, my being wound tighter than a Jennifer Lopez ponytail at 8:00 PM is never a good idea. Even if it is in the interest of us being honest about foreign policy. I had slipped the surly bonds I keep on my shit.

So I took a Benadryl, put on my sweats, and settled in to watch something calming and peaceful--Boardwalk Empire. I was passed the heck out by 9:00.

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