So during lockdown last year, I had a chance to catch up on life.  I had a chance to read all the books, watch all the documentaries and listen to all the podcasts I’ve been putting off.  I had the chance.  I didn’t take it.  I didn’t better myself.  I plopped my fat ass in a chair and did what I do best:  I watched TV.  I didn’t watch educational things.   I plunged headfirst into the absolute worst of the worst TV shows ever.

I started off with Tiger King.  Gay, big cat owners with meth head non-gay boyfriends! Sardine oil on a missing man’s shoes.  Weddings, funerals, rednecks, bad fashion, and a villainess!!  Cats and kittens, sign me up.  I was completely hooked from the first episode until the last.  My girl was right there with me.  3b sat that show out.  Pussy.  I can’t believe this subculture even exists but I am so glad it does.  Oh, and mullets, did I mention the mullets? They were exquisite.  More than I deserve.  There were also tigers.  Lots of them.  There was a caretaker who got her arm ripped off by one of the tigers.  I have had acid trips less interesting than this.  It was a good kickoff to a lockdown.    Also, she did it.  She totally did it.

The next program I became obsessed with was Ozark.  My sister was watching it and told me I would love it.  I was alone watching all three seasons in four days.  Once I got a gander of Jason Bateman in flat front Khakis and I was hooked.  I didn’t cook or clean for four straight days.  It was literally sleep, coffee, Jason Bateman, lunch, more Jason Bateman, order your own God damn dinner, Jason Bateman, sleep.  This was not popular in my house.  People were left to make their own food.  I hogged the downstairs TV.  Keep in mind, my girl has her own TV and 3b does as well.  I told them both to shut the hell up and let me have this.  By the time I got to the last thirty seconds of the third season, I was hungry and in need of a shower.  The dog was pissed off as well.  Tough.  Ozark was well worth my family’s ire.  I will ignore them all over again when season four is here.

After the intensity of Ozark, I needed to cleanse my TV pallet.  My girl insisted we pick a series that we both like.  Just like that, The Mindy Project.   We absolutely fell in love with her and this show.  All 66 episodes.  Yup, we watched them all.  We analyzed her relationship.  We loved her sharp wit and her outfits.  We bonded.  Of course, I couldn’t watch until remote school was over at three.  My girl would text me from upstairs to make sure I was not getting ahead of her with the episodes.  She also would text me her lunch order.  I would leave it outside her door and knock like room service.  She would then leave the dirty dishes outside her door for housekeeping (me) to pick up.  It was my punishment for Ozark.

I don’t want to leave out any of the Bravo shows I watched.  I love, love, love the Housewives franchise.  My favorites are Beverly Hills and New Jersey.  We were just finishing up the BH episodes when covid hit.  Did Denise Richards have an affair with Brandie Glanville?  Who cares, you ask, ME.  I care deeply.  I was upset that they got rid of Teddi.  She was a stabilizing force among the crazy biatches.  It was a great season.  NJ starts next Wednesday and according to all the buzz, there are breakdowns in every episode.  It is always refreshing when the breakdowns are someone else’s and not mine.  I look forward to that.  It is like mine and Capri’s football season.  There is analysis, play by play, commentary, and judgment.  So much judgment.  Capri and I talk as if we know these women.  In our little minds, we do.  It has gotten us through this far.

One Saturday, I went up to my friend’s house.  She was in an accident and I was going to help out and keep her company.  I wasn’t much help.  We were flipping through streaming services and she asked me if I had seen that show, Dead to Me.  Fuck yes!  Christina Applegate.  Love her.  She didn’t see season one and I told her I will stay for season one and come up later in the week for season two.  12 hours later we finished season two, lunch, dinner, and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc (maybe two).  I fell asleep on her couch around midnight.   That is the power of mindless TV.

I want to give a shout out to my weekday stand by, The Young and the Restless.  They aired old shows and had different themes each week.  I want to thank YouTube for posting clips of Sisterwives, My Big Fat Fabulous Life,  The Graham Norton Show, and all things BBC.  I would like to thank the comics and their specials that kept me laughing and thinking.  Thank you, Dave Chappelle (I will not watch you on Netflix as they stole your show), Chris Rock, Amy Schumer, Chelsey Handler, and my new favorite, Fortune Feimster.

Watching all these shows was probably not the best use of my time.  I needed to escape from the news, the pandemic, and the sheer quiet that became part of the everyday.  The silence was screaming and walls were closing in.  Like you, I did the best I could and I did it in sweatpants, food-stained tank tops with a remote in my hand.