I have a terrible cold, which has put me on my couch watching endless episodes of “Friday Night Lights” and television I wouldn’t normally watch. Every couple of hours I’d call my friend Sisyphus to tell her some new revelation that I found insane.
The first is that Anne Burrell on “Secrets of a Restaurant Chef” primarily cooks meat and potatoes. And when she does happen to cook anything else, she makes up more nicknames for food than even Rachael Ray could handle. And she likes to shorten words that just should never, ever be shortened, like taking “vegetables” and turning them into “veg”.
“I’m just going to push my veg around,” she said.
I called up Sisyphus and repeated what Burrell had said.
“Veg? That sounds like vag.”
Come on. Say it aloud. “I’m going to push my veg around.” Now, make one of those strange guttural noises she makes, “MMMM MMMM!”
Watching too many episodes of “Friday Night Lights” does weird things to me. Not only is my Southern accent coming back, I’m starting to wish that every man I knew played football in front of me, just to prove manliness. Keep in mind, this is simply an inappropriate thought to have that pushes masculinity into a corner and keeps it there, baring its terrible teeth. (I don’t actually believe men or women should behave in any one way, okay? It’s just the tee vee distorting my values, okay?)
I stopped shopping at Old Navy years ago. I think the clothes are poorly made and the stores are overwhelmingly annoying. In fact, the stores smell like warehouses.
Anyway, I was shocked to find out their newest ad is bringing Sexy Ankles back, like in Victorian times.
Sisyphus’s commentary on this: “There you go, Libra. This one’s for you. It’s all yours. Show off those ankles!”
It’s true, you know. I’m fond of showing off my ankles, like any young lady should be. Every spring after the first thaw I roll up my jeans and wear flats and show off those ankles. But you have to wonder– trying to make ankles seem sexy is like trying to make petticoats seem sexy. Again, it’s downright Victorian and a real stretch for generating income.
But it’s totally going to work.
When one is sick, watching Guy Fieri shove massive amounts of meat into his mouth can even help soothe a vegetarian, lulling her to sleep for a much-needed nap.
I suppose this is a little known fact which defies any medical convention. I can no more explain this than I can explain why I watch him even though I hate him. I think this is the “hate sex” of television-watching, but I never want to associate the word “sex” with Guy Fieri ever. Ever. MMM MMM!
I hit my limit with how much television I can watch. I want this cold to go away. I’d rather be standing outside in a wintry mix right now than watching Guy Fieri shove food into his mouth, Anne Burrell push her veg around, or Old Navy telling me to get my ankles all sexy.
However, there’s always room for men playing football. ‘Cause this is America. And we have values. Like free healthcare for everyone (right?) and the right to watch men take off their shirts to reveal suspiciously hairless chests (right?).
I may be terribly confused. Blame the cold meds.