On please shut the fuck up, everyone in the world

I spent all weekend lying around with a fairly nasty cold, which means, yes, I watched a lot of TV. Marathon episodes of Law & Order, mostly. However, the problem with any extended exposure to “live” television is that I’ve noticed that commercials have become absolutely intolerable to me. I have been destroyed by my DVR. Unless you’re going all “We Obviously Don’t Care, Here’s What We Came Up With At 3AM After Several Bong Hits” like Dairy Queen (rainbows on fire!), I do not want anything to do with your commercials. Fuck your commercials.

All that to say that I invariably got annoyed enough by the commercials that I would wander the dial in search of something – anything – commercial free. Of course the only thing on television sans commercials are movies. Now, admittedly, I am no film critic. I will pretty much watch anything, provided the premise is not SO repellant that the simple idea of it makes me want to perform self-surgery (ie, anything by Tyler Perry, and mostly anything with Vince Vaughan in it). I don’t necessarily like everything I watch … in fact, I hate most of it. Which you think would teach me to develop more discerning tastes and just STOP watching whatever happens to be on just, you know, in case it’s good. It’s not going to be good. It’s fucking NEVER going to be good.

Case in point! I watched Eat Pray Love. I had thus far managed to avoid pretty much everything about this movie/book, other than the fact that it existed, it was about a woman on some kind of journey of self-discovery, and was FULL of saccharine and Velveeta; enough that they sold monogrammed bath mats on Home Shopping Network for it. Like, in the hermetic compartmentalization in my head, this movie fell into the category of “Oprah Dry Humped This”

This movie? OK? This move made me fucking livid.

This is a loosely transcribed conversation I had with my husband while this train wreck was happening. For context, he got home from work in the middle of it.

Him: Ugh. Why are you watching this?

Me: I don't ... I don't know. It's fucking terrible.

Him: It's rich people! Finding themselves!
Me: Right! And holy god if I have to look at Julia Roberts' "epiphany face" one more fucking time! NO ONE HAS THAT MANY EPIPHANIES.
Him: At least Richard Jenkins is in it?
Me: Yes, being intolerable! He speaks in bumper stickers! The fucking character who is herself a WALKING BUMPER STICKER called him out on it!
Him: Well. It's a movie. About rich people. Finding themselves.
Me: I get that. And yet every time Javier Bardem is on screen, I can only think: "Heads or tails?" That, and marvel at the size of his head. I mean, god. It's fucking enormous.
Him: So turn it off.
Me:  .... clearly you don't know me AT ALL.

My husband is ever the voice of reason. I insist on taking levels of unnecessary punishment; amounts to make the world weep, you guys. So I can, what, have some righteous indignation? Or something? About EAT PRAY FUCKING LOVE? 

Bollocks.