a few blogs ago, we determined that the best sound in the world is the sound of an empty beach. well, everything has its opposite, so i am happy to report that, while driving in my car this afternoon, i had another huge revelation. i realized what the worst sound in the world is: the way radio stations “sing” their stupid call letters.
the worst perpetrators: easy listening stations, e.g. “spiriiiiitttt one oh fi-i- ve threeeeee!!!!!!!” (cut to me sticking finger down throat)
to be fair, i realize that identifying one’s radio station in a decent song is a difficult, if not impossible, task. but my question is not “how” but “for God’s sake, why?”
some things are better read.
and some things are better verbally summarized. like six feet under.
i tried to watch it for a few seasons, but it didn’t do me any good. just bad. real bad. the occasional healthy emotions it coaxed out of me just couldn’t out-do the general feeling of doom that would hang over me afterwards like my own personal head hovercraft with the angel of death at the wheel.
so this season i banned it. but rob still watches it, and we have somehow developed a little ritual of sitting at the dinner table on mondays while he updates me on the gang. we dialog about keith, david and their newly adopted boys like they are our alternative lifestyle kinsmen. we puzzle over nate’s enormous capacity for unfaithfulness, and laugh about how everyone in claire’s office goes around saying “yeah, baby” like its frickin 1997.
occasionally, rob will do such a creepy job of reenacting, say, nate having a stroke immediately after cheating on his new wife, that i will have to watch the scene on tivo.
but only a few scenes here and there, so as not to summons the craft.

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