This weekend I was sick with one of the worst sinus infections I’ve had in years. I watched 8 episodes of season 3 of Gilmore Girls. I marathoned Keeping up the Kardashians in between naps. I cursed my parents for passing down these miserable allergies. I tried to leave the house but I didn’t even enjoy thrifting. I was broken.
My cute husband drove us on some relaxing errands to the big box stores a few miles from our house (Target is magical). After putting back some DVDs (I am really cheap), he decided to buy us a Roku. Yes, my husband, who would rather watch baseball and music documentaries than one of the million shows I DVR, could not live without HBO Go on our TV.
After we plugged in that teeny tiny box, we had so much fun scrolling through the myriad of programming now available to us. I like getting my husband excited about TV. We might watch The Wire! Owwwwwww, look out world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We also went through the archive channels and began watching vintage commercials.
Beautiful Crissy gave us nightmares. It was like an SNL skit.
Then something else happened. After six months without it, I signed back up for Netflix. It was going to happen eventually, what with Arrested Development and all. I laid on the couch and started UK Inbetweeners (I like US Neil better; is that a controversial opinion?) and Cheers right where I left both of them. It was glorious. I might get rid of it again after I finish Breaking Bad & all the UK shows I haven’t seen. I am fucking cheap and I might need that $8 one day. Or maybe not.
I think it’s pretty clear to our five readers that no one comped me for these items, but just to be certain: I paid for this all myself.