It's Saturday, I have some free time on my hands and what am I doing with it? I'm hate-watching this:
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| Awful, awful show. |
We've been through how I feel
about this, and I'm going to continue to not only watch it but complain the entire time that it's the worst thing that has happened to television in...let's just say ever. It's so overdone, tacky clothes and tacky dialogue and tacky music - I can't stop watching.
And it gets worse. At the same time I'm eagerly checking Hulu to see if a new episode of this accursed show has finally been released (and experiencing the painful disappointment when I realize it has that annoying little H+ in the corner, symbolizing that I've been denied access) I am also taking a disgustingly long time to read a real book with some real awards. This:
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| What is wrong with me? |
According to my Kindle, I'm 46% of the way through this Prometheus Award winner and I can't seem to muster even a fraction of the urgency I feel to get to a new episode of a show I'm too embarrassed to admit to loved ones that I even know exists. On the one hand we have a Nebula Award winning novel by Margaret Atwood and on the other you have the latest attempt by the CW to promote what boils down to a lengthy music video for that one
Lorde song.
Maybe it's more than just bad taste. There is something cathartic about junk TV, the same way it feels good to eat out of that big tub labelled "cheese balls" and drink boxed wine. It feels kind of good to just hate something while hoping against hope that you're wrong and it will turn out to be really awesome. And then it doesn't.
So, Margaret Atwood vs the CW:
CW 1
Atwood 0
I'm the worst.
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