So, I got home from work yesterday and noted that something was being recorded on the DIVX box. I checked what it was and noted, with disgust, that it was the Oprah Winfrey Show. Apparently, it's not enough now for Melissa to simply catch the show when she can; now she has to record the dreck.
About 8 p.m. or so last night, as I was surfing around the Internet, Melissa comes into my office and says "I have to measure your waist, baby." Now, I was about to acquiesce to the measuring, thinking she was pondering her Christmas gift list or something, when I caught snippets of dialogue coming from the living room television, and I realized she was watching her Oprah show, and it was about some sort of weight management pop-culture nonsense for which Oprah is so popular for glomming onto. And, for some reason, it all just made me really mad.
I'm not sure why it made me so mad. Maybe it's because I've been buying 32 inch waist jeans since I've been 18 years old. Maybe it's because I still wear jeans I've had since 2001. Maybe it's because I'm 6' and 175 lbs. (as of weighing myself after jiu-jitsu last weekend), so it's a bit insulting to have my waist measurement questioned at all. Maybe it's because I detest the idea of having my waist measured because of the Oprah fuckin' Winfrey show. Whatever the reason, I flat out refused to play along, and Melissa left my office in a huff.
As a general rule, Melissa and I have radically differing television preferences. I prefer the History Channel and the Discovery Channel. She prefers Deal or No Deal. But, the Oprah Winfrey Show is particularly annoying to me. That woman could just die tomorrow, and I'd probably let out just a little bit of a giggle.
Yes, I'm in a particularly pissy mood for a Friday. It happens.
So, I've been reading all sorts, and I mean ALL SORTS, of articles about polls showing that Republicans are going to lose so bad in this mid-term election, that they may as well be better off not showing their heads after Nov. 7 until around the time the groundhog inspects its shadow.
Now, I'm just curious here, but if Nov. 7 proves to not be the Republican bloodbath all these polls are showing, what will that mean for polls overall? I've never really liked polls (too many of them, in my opinion), but I've still managed to cling to a spider-web spindle of faith in at least some of them. So if, come Nov. 8, there's not, at least, five dead Republicans on my doorstep (cause of death, several donkey kicks to the head), I'm not sure I'll ever again have any faith whatsoever in polls and those who hold them up as gospel.
Then again, I have so little faith in anything nowadays, a loss of faith in polls probably won't matter all that much.
UPDATE: Except for poop and fart talk. I'll always have faith in that. In fact, I'm thinking about establishing a church set up specifically to worship poop and farts. Adherents will engage in Communion and witness the wonders of Transubflatulation.
Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker. Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker. Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker.
