Sharp Corners

Not long ago, my pal Dave and and I decided to come clean about the embarrassing songs we’re willing to admit we love. Obviously, there are other ways to absorb the nuances of pop culture besides popular music, so recently we decided to tackle television shows we secretly watch when no one’s looking.

I used to love “Big Brother” and “Survivor.” While everyone else sat around making fun of the shows and diving for the remote, I was glued to the screen waiting to see who’d be voted off or out next. In the end, I got tired of the repetition and viciousness, and I haven’t watched shows like that in years.

However.

When I have a few minutes to catch something on tv these days (which, admittedly, isn’t often) when no one’s around (which also isn’t often), I do have a few guilty pleasures.

“Jon and Kate Plus 8″ - I cannot stand the way Kate talks down to Jon and yells at him like a carping fishwife (double the metaphor, double the fun). I can’t stand that Jon puts up with it. I think their daughter Maddy is a spoiled little girl who needs to learn some manners. The 6 younger kids are cute, but still in the shrill and whiny stage of life. And, god, that Kate. She makes me want rip off my car’s radio antenna and stab it into my eardrums. I never miss an episode.

“Deadliest Catch” - Have you ever seen this show? Bait a crab pot, put it in the water, fish it out a day later, empty it (or not), re-bait, release, repeat. The only other things that happen on this show is that “greenhorns” throw up, captains act like sea-farin’ salty dogs (yarrrr), and sleep-deprived deckhands stagger around biting the heads off fish for luck (I’m serious). I cannot explain why I am drawn to this show like a new sailor to Dramamine, but when Discovery Channel runs marathons of it, I’m glued to the screen as if I expect to learn tomorrow’s lottery numbers.

“Law & Order: SVU” - Dun. Dun. Yes, it even annoys the crap out of me. Yet, I watch. Always. I swear it has nothing to do with Det. Stabler. Pinkie swear.

“CSI: Miami” - There’s no doubt that William Peterson and his character Gil Grissom own the CSI brand, and if you don’t at least sorta-kinda like the original CSI, you should seek therapy. “CSI: Miami” is an entirely different animal though. It’s over the top with camp and implausibility, but I love it. I’ve searched deep within for an explanation of why, and have come up dry. Perhaps this sums it up best.

“Hannah Montana” - I know. Even I can’t believe this one. My middle son adores this show to the point that I half expect him to wear a Hannah costume for Halloween (and, you know, I’m okay with that). Somehow he’s gotten me hooked on it, too. Now, let me be explicitly clear: Billy Ray Cyrus (the main character’s father on the show and in real life) drives me up one wall and down another. I was subjected to listening to “Achy Breaky Heart” so many times when the song was popular that I once considered blowing up a jukebox with my hairspray and a lighter. He’s appears in this show, as do a number of truly terrible actors uttering truly terrible dialogue. So, tell me, why can’t I turn the channel after the kids are in bed, and why the hell am I always humming her songs!?!

Tie: “Will & Grace” and “The Golden Girls” - There’s nothing wrong with either of these shows on their own. In fact, they’re both fantastic. The problem is that I’ve seen all the episodes of both shows literally dozens of times. I can recite virtually every line of every episode and can tell you which ep is on, by listening to three lines or less. Why, oh why, if I was born with a particular talent did it have to be that?

Now c’mon. Level with me. Not everyone out there is watching C-SPAN and IFC. Tell me your guilty pleasures and make me feel better about myself. And if you don’t watch anything we can laugh at, don’t tell my heart.

My Achy Breaky Heart.

When I’m not busying annoying the daylights out of my kids, my next favorite hobby is embarrassing myself. You’ll be pleased to know that no matter how busy I get, there’s always time for that.

Last week, there was an accidental mishap while the maids were cleaning my house. One of the doors in my kitchen got damaged and I left it as-is (as-was?) until their boss could come have a look. Though he was happy to pay a repairman to come fix it, the damage was really so minor that I knew between the two of us, we could easy take care of it. All we needed was a screwdriver and a pair of pliers so I dove into the toolbox while he fiddled with some hardware.

Let’s pause at this point for a bit of explanation, shall we? The kids and I have been running all over creation going to the shuttle launch, SeaWorld, out with friends, swimming, etc., and I’ve got a boatload of clients I’m doing projects for. To say I’m worn out and distracted would be an understatement — I’m lucky I can boil water on some days. That’s my excuse for my verbal stupidity, and I’m sticking to it.

Anyway, I was rummaging through the toolbox, highly impressed with myself for having such an organized kit and that I know what they heck everything actually does. I was blathering on about how much I like my tools, how much I use it, how much I love to fix things. Y’know, the stuff you say right before you make yourself look like the stupidest person on planet Earth.

I called over my shoulder and asked the guy what kind of screwdriver we needed. “Phillips,” he answered.

“Okay! Here you go!” I chirped.

He gave me blank stare a waited a beat before gently saying, “Um, this is a slotted.”

I turned Calmato red and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“ARGH! I’m sonot a girl!” The point I was trying to ineptly make was that I’m not your typical bubble-headed female. Instead I came out sounding like I was RuPaul. I just left the room.

I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty certain he went back to the office and gave the cleaning team an immediate raise for having to put up with me every week. I didn’t get a chance to find out when they came back to clean today because I was too busy clarifying for them that I am, in fact, the stupidest person on planet Earth, in case they missed the memo.

When the crew was packing up to leave today, the lead gal accidentally locked her keys in her car. They were very, very upset and not sure what to do. I helped them get in their car and afterwards they thanked me profusely — hugs all around.

They must have thanked and hugged me four times but, really, I was glad to help. I’ve gotten to know this team a bit and I know they work very hard, have young kids, and I think at least one is a single mom. After watching them clean my house every week (yes, I still tidy up beforehand), I have nothing but respect for them and I was glad to assist them in getting their keys back.

Wouldn’t it have been nice if I’d said it that way?

Instead, I said, “Oh, hey, it was nothing. We working girls have to stick together, right?”

Criminy. That was so not what I meant.

They drove off at about 90 MPH.

Right about now, you’re wondering how I make a living putting words together, aren’t you? Yeah, me too.

You know, I really need to stop posting in invisible ink.

I’ve been up to my greying hairline in work and end-of-the-year school stuff and the minute I got some free time, did I write something up for this site? No, I bailed on every last one of you and took my kids camping instead. (Of course, my Twitter followers knew that already). We had a terrific time and we learned new things about ourselves and each other. For instance, judging by how much time we spent in the pool, I’ve learned my kids are part guppy (don’t go there). They learned I can cook pretty much anything but spaghetti on a table top grill.

Anyway, the trip was fun but the memories and details are probably more interesting to me than my readers so instead I’ll tell you about something you’re likely to enjoy much more. The day I won the Stupidest Customer Ever Award because, really, when does it ever get old to laugh at me?

I’ve been having Internet connection problems recently which, given the nature of my work, you know just overjoys me. My ISP has potentially the stupidest, most unreliable employees I’ve ever encountered in my life (with the possible exception of Sprint because, really, that whole company just needs to die). Here’s a prime example of just how stupid the people at my ISP are: when I first moved into this house, they showed up to install the cable/phone/Internet four days in a row. I’m not saying it took them four days to do it, I’m saying that Tech One showed up on Monday, finished the job and left. Tuesday, Tech Two showed up to install my cable, never knowing Tech One had been here. The same thing happened again on Wednesday. And Thursday. Friday I set up coffee and donuts at the front door and waited with a banner that said “Take one and GO AWAY!” but of course that’s the day they never showed.

The customer service reps at my ISP are dumber than a boxful of termites (and just as obnoxious), but the techs are usually pretty nice — though not much smarter. Technician Du Jour showed up on time (amazing!) last week to figure out what was going on with my equipment so I led him straight to my office and gave him an extremely detailed description of what I’d done, what what wrong, what did work, and what didn’t. He tinkered with wires, jiggled connections, and even replaced the modem twice. No luck.

While waiting for someone at his mothership to flip some switches, he looked around my office at the mass of computers (six, just in plain view) and assorted gadgetry. I could tell he was thinking of a tactful way to ask why on earth I had so much stuff. Finally, he said, “So….are all these computers, you know, like, on?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Um, do you use them all?” he asked

“Yes.” (I like to toy with the techs sometimes. Does that make me a bad person?)

Finally he just blurted out, “WHY?” but at least he had the decency to look sheepish.

“I use them for work. You see, I write about technology and I use them to do different things, depending on what I’m working on.” (Actually, I use one of them mostly just to watch tv, but I didn’t tell him that…sssshhh.)

“Ohhhhh, so you must be, like, you know, smart and stuff. [Ed.- Uh, no.]You must know all about this Internet stuff then. That’s why you knew how to try all that stuff with the modem.”

“Um, yeah.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him, “No, actually, I knew to try those things because in the five years I’ve had your service it sucks so bad that I’ve learned all this crap along the way from the two hundred technicians I’ve met from your company!”

The poor guy started squirming and fidgeting as if I was going to start quizzing him on the modem’s schematics or ask him to describe fiber optics in fine detail. Finally, mopping sweat off his forehead, he said he had no idea what to do, that all he could do was put in a temporary fix. He was, however, scheduling me for a follow-up visit next week. When I asked him what those techs would do, he told me he was going to have them install more cable outlets. To fix the Internet connection problem. Seriously.

I asked what good he thought that would do, and he admitted he had no idea. Then he suggested I call an electrician. Dear God.

I just wanted this social event to end so I thanked him and said I looked forward to next week’s visit, maybe I’d have cable installed in my kitchen or something. As a gesture of good will, before leaving he made a sweeping gesture toward my computers and said, “You’re smart, maybe we should hire you to run our tech calls.” Geez, if all it took was a desk full of computers to impress him, I know a bunch of gals he ought to meet. But, he was kind for saying so.

The second he was gone, I ran back to my office to get back online since I’d already been off for several hours. His “temporary fix” didn’t work! I ran back outside and jumped in front of his truck before he could pull away. I let him know that what he’d done to get me back online hadn’t worked and he needed to fix his fix. He apologized profusely and came back inside, anxious to address whatever was wrong.

I forgot to plug in the modem.

Damn.