Sep 19, 2011

Desperate Housewives: One of My Weaker Moments

Shame?

I know I should feel that right now. I guess I kind of do, really. I suppose that some part of me wants to turn off Netflix at this point and explore another avenue. Ya know, the outdoors, a social life, cleaning the house (oh...you have no idea how badly I actually need to do that one), yet, here I sit. I am just infatuated with the intricate and idiotic lives that the ladies of Wisteria Lane are leading. Granted, I am only 14 episodes in on Season One...but something tells me that I will be hanging around to catch the rest of them at some point. The way things are going, I fear I may get through them pretty quickly as I cannot seem to turn the dag blasted television off.

Guilt?
Oh, now I definitely should be feeling this one!! How can I sit around here and watch Netflix when I have so much else that I could be doing. I really am quite talented you know, and very crafty. I could be making a freaking scarf or painting a gosh darned mountain side with the prettiest green trees you have ever seen. Overboard? Yeah. I tried knitting once. I was outdone by my mildly retarded college roommate. I tried painting as well. Those were actually decent...for a 10 year old. Seriously, though, I could be feeding homeless people at a soup kitchen or something. Instead, I sit in my comfy recliner, drinking my diet pepsi (and, yes, that means I am a fatty with this idea that drinking diet somehow makes me appear less fatty-like to the general public. Don't judge me, demons, it's how I roll.