Why.

A couple of years ago CBS cancelled the show “Judging Amy”. I was bitter about it, wrote several letters and blog entries on the subject, raised some hell with the CBS e-mail servers and then let it lie. By the way, the show is not out on DVD yet because Fox and CBS are arguing over compensation.

This past week NBC announced the cancellation of “Las Vegas”. The series finale is a cliffhanger that wasn’t suppose to be a cliffhanger but the writer’s strike messed all that up and now there’s no scheduled resolution to the dangling storylines.

I don’t watch a lot of network television. With my recent dismissal of “American Idol” (the unbelievable praise of the vocalists singing key changes [what the hell], out of tune performances and “runs” was giving me gas) and the aforementioned cancellation of “Las Vegas”, my consumption of network television viewing has been weeded down to one show: “Private Practice”. I probably should do some research to see if that’s been cancelled as well as I haven’t seen it pop up on the TiVo lately.

Now that I think of it, we can save $10 a month by getting the networks removed from the satellite service. Perhaps I should look into that.

Earl and I are watching the Top 24 “ladies night” on American Idol. So far the first two performers have done their thing, the crowd is going wild for lackluster, mundane, uninspired performances.

I feel like I’m wasting my time.

And this trend of the audience booing anything that’s a remotely negative comment from the judges is absolutely ridiculous. American Idol needs to get back to their roots and let these folks sing with little in the way of accompaniment and no audience for this stage of the game.

And while I’m cranking on this show, they made a mistake keeping the “plus-sized model” (who keeps reminding us that she is a “plus-sized model”, what’s that got to do with her singing voice? She’s no Martha Wash!) and getting rid of the other girl that could really sing.

I really am wasting my time and your time with this blog entry.

Time to click through the TiVo. Maybe the chipmunk version will be more entertaining.

I was going to write a witty blog entry regarding Sherri Shepherd’s (“The View”) latest revelation. But that would just be mean.

A couple of years ago there was a big hullabaloo about the big box retailers using “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” on their signs, sales and other joyous ways of prompting you to spend money. I believe it was the Christian right that was having such a fit about the use of “Happy Holidays”, regardless of the fact that Christmas was sort of ‘borrowed’ from the Pagan Winter Solstice celebrations and modified for Christian use (some believe Jesus Christ was actually born in June), much like the other holidays that are sprinkled throughout the year. The argument apparently lingers on this year and will most likely continue to do so, like a bad fruitcake that comes back year after year to haunt you.

I couldn’t care less about what people say to me when they wish me good tidings this holiday season, but in the spirit of trying not to offend anyone, I’ve decided that I’m going to wish everyone a “Joyous Juanita” this season. I really don’t know why I’ve picked this particular phrase. I guess the word “Juanita” looks holidayish to me. I can easily picture the word decorated with holly and maybe a few berries. I don’t know anyone named Juanita, aside from a fifth grade teacher from my childhood who’s real name was “Rotten Totten”. I was never in her class though so I don’t count her.

I believe Earl has already ordered the holiday cards for the season though, so I guess I’ll have to make like Sears and print some hastily made “Joyous Juanita” inserts to slip into each card before we send them out.

Personally I find this argument to be incredibly ridiculous and that’s why I’ve decided to do my own thing. If I really like you, I might follow it up with a “Blessed Be.” Just don’t get offended if I do.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Everyone in the neighborhood (except us) has begun the task of decorating their homes in the spirit of the holiday in as many crass, tacky and cheesy ways as possible.

I’ve mentioned before that the neighbors enjoy lighting up their house beyond belief. Said house is a year-round mess in serious need of repair. They still have bats and witches on display, which have been tossed aside haphazardly for their Christmas display. Every year Freakboy and his ugly sisterwife (probably not their real names) throw gargantuan blow up ornaments all over the lawn and surround them with lights of every size, shade and hue, none of which match. This year they’ve added some new trinkets to the wild mish-mash of color, including a blow-up manger scene. Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like a puffed up Joseph and three puffy wise men. They’ve also added “animation” to the horrific affair by making things blink. Randomly. Everything blinks randomly. In fact, I believe they’ve hooked some of the blow up things into the blinking mechanism because the giant Santa Claus that appears to be molesting Mary also seems to be breathing hard. (I haven’t figured out why Santa Claus and Frosty are both standing at the manger yet). There he is, Santa Claus standing erect, deflated, erect, a little deflated, up and down in time with the lights while simultaneously groping The Virgin Mother. The baby Jesus keeps time by flashing on and off as Santa breathes hard while groping Mary. Why have a baby in a manger when you can have a baby with pizazz and make him blink on and off?

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

Earl and I like to go out to supper after we do the voting thing. It’s become a tradition of sorts and we keep the dinner low key.

Tonight we went to the local Panera.

I’ve mentioned before that I find our Panera to be a little frustrating. Actually, I find the customers of the local Panera to be frustrating. True to form, the queue was 15-20 people deep and few knew what they were going to order before standing in front of the register with their mouth agape. Tonight’s featured question was “What’s gorgonzola cheese?”

Panera has been kind enough to put out “courtesy cups”, these little plastic cups for patrons to use for little sips of water. They’re smaller than those Dixie cups that used to be dispensed in the kitchen (and there’s no jokes along the side to read.) Many feel that these cups are for iced tea and pop, even if it involves 8, 9 or ten trips to the soda fountain to refill them due to the size of the cup.

I found this infuriating.

I also noticed that several people just left their garbage on the table instead of taking it to the trash bins as most of the other customers do. While we were waiting in line to order I glared at a woman who left her garbage spread out all over the table. She looked at me defiantly. I continued to glare and she softened her return stare. She didn’t do anything about the garbage but I made her feel sufficiently guilty. When another party left their garbage I proclaimed loudly, “Why don’t they just rip down the Panera sign and serve nothing but Happy Meals since everyone is intent on making this place a DUMP.” That garnered a few startled glances that made me feel quite proud of myself.

All in all the meal was enjoyable, the company was extraordinary (Earl is always a good date) but the clientele was frustrating. Earl says I can’t change the world but I’m going to keep on trying.

I’m pretty dependent on the internet, especially when I’m in bachelor mode with Earl being away for work. The internet is my main source of entertainment. I chat with friends over iChat, I watch videos, I make videos, I read up on all things geekly and I get good sized dollops of news via the tubes we call the ‘net.

It’s not nice to fool with my internet connection.

A couple of weeks ago our high speed internet connection over cable (RoadRunner) died. The Fine Folks At Time Warner promptly sent a tech out to our home 72 hours later. Said tech had no testing equipment that worked with him, so he put a signal booster on our cable, said a prayer to the cable gods and viola, instant mediocrity which he said was the fastest experience they could provide. He was cute, but he was a liar.

Don’t mess with the geek.

On Sunday the internet started crapping out again (surprise!) so I made a call into Time Warner once again and made them adhere to my schedule; send someone out after my work hours. They promised a tech after 5 p.m. today. He called at 2:45 and wanted to know where I was.

It’s not nice to fool with my internet connection.

Slightly irritated but pleasant nonetheless, I coaxed him into coming after 5 p.m. He said he’d be here at 5. He arrived at 6:30.

“There’s nothing I can do”, said the cross-eyed, twangy sounding tech. He then ran out the front door to calm the four kids that were bouncing in the back of the service van. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

“Your tap runs under the driveway and you have your own private tap and we are not allowed past the tap.”

“There have been many techs here over the years and they’ve all climbed the poles. They used their ladders and everything.”, I retorted.

He threw a bit of a hissy fit, as only a cross-eyed twangy sounding tech can do. That’s when our sometimes working connection died completely.

He then packed up to leave.

“Uh, it’s not working at all, you need to undo what you just did.”

A few more hisses and fits and it was once again cooking with blazing mediocrity.

“I just called in to the dispatch center and they’re going to send a line crew. They’ll probably have to tear up your driveway but we’ll get your internet going right fast.”, he said.

Earl is simply going to kill me if there’s a ditch across the driveway when he gets home tomorrow night.

The phone rings. Caller ID announces, “Coldwell Banker.” (from out of town)

Me: “Hello?”
Him (exceedingly chipper): “Hi, this is Ken at Coldwell Banker. We recently listed a duplex home in Utica for sale and we’re wondering if you know anyone that would be interested in buying it.”
Me: “Nope.”
Him (exceedingly chipper): “Well thanks for thinking that over carefully…”
Me: click.

Since when does a real estate agent randomly call a home and ask if they know anyone that wants to buy a house?