Tag Archives: television

Required weekly Dudley photos.

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Because he’s simply too photogenic not to share.

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Dudley likes to play with balls, and basically any round thing that rolls.

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Including raspberries his human drops on the floor.

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He also likes to stretch….

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And then runs out of energy before getting back in his original position. He sleeps like this all the time.

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While his takeover of the house is pretty much complete, from the look of this photo…. I fear the television might be next.

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So attractive.

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After a nightmarish week of battling Direct TV customer service and their bots, an hour long phone conversation with “Susie” from Bangalore, an hour and a half long conversation with “Susie’s” supervisor “Jimmy” from New Delhi, one service call from a technician who said he was given the wrong work order, a second visit from a technician who said we didn’t need a separate dish on the barn roof after all, a 40 minute long conversation with “Elaine” from Mumbai in which I told her I wasn’t paying an extra $100 for something that should be free, and a third visit from a technician who finally hooked up a mini receiver in the man cave ….

Can you see it?

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I hope not.

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But it’s there.

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An extremely long cable connecting the satellite dish on our house to the barn.

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Because someone…who shall remain nameless but answers to ‘Hey Marine’…. just had to have a television with a full program line up with DVR capability in his man cave.

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In Maine, lines don’t get buried until spring…. which means I’ll either trip over it and break my neck in the meantime, or the red squirrel bitch from Hell will chew through it when seeking revenge.

Good times.

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Did I mention I had to spend another 35 minutes online with a chatbot when Direct TV charged me twice for the same service call and then added a $9 monthly protection plan to my bill that I didn’t approve? Ever since AT&T took them over it’s been a horror show.

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Shame on you.

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If you’re not watching this…

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I have two things to say:

Why the Hell not?

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You should be. (Because you really should.)

Equal parts food…

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Stunning scenery…..

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And history…..

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Not to mention Tucci’s droll wit… (Do you know he broke the internet with a cocktail? My kind of guy. ) it really is a wonderful show.

So what are you waiting for?

Sunday 9:00pm on CNN.

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This bitch has got to go.

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Every Sunday night I kick the husband off the big tv in the living room and stay up late binge watching a bunch of recorded series. I don’t watch a lot of television, but I am addicted to a few HBO, Starz and Showtime programs that my other half hates.

So Monday is the one morning I sleep past 5:00am… and I relish my extra 2 hours. But this Monday morning? I was woken by a noise.

Scratching. And banging. Then more scratching.

I grumbled, I stumbled, I got out of bed and I found this….

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The red squirrel bitch from Hell. She had scaled the bush alongside the house and was scrambling up and down the screen, over and over. And then?

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She just hung there.

Taunting me.

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That bitch has got to go.

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The best one yet!

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So I walked in on my husband the other day, and this was what he was watching….

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I knew it was going to be good.

Or bad.

Or so bad, it’s good.

I wasn’t disappointed.

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A walking tree stump reincarnation?

I was in!

Having missed the first third of the movie I can’t give you the background story, but I knew something was going to go wrong when the visiting doctors dug up a tree with a face and a knife in it’s… chest?

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Back at the lab, the lady doctor/heroine whipped out her stethoscope to check its vitals.

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The diagnosis? None. They were stumped… (pun intended) and left the room to confer with colleagues.

Bad idea.

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Very bad.

The rampaging evil spirit tree, which we learned is named Tobanga, ran amok and captured a South Sea native girl.

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And hurled her in the quicksand.

She begged for her life…

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But Tobanga was merciless.

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Bye bye scantily clad native girl.

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Her death stirred up the villagers and they vowed to track the malevolent creature.

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But you know that didn’t go as planned.

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This fellow was tossed into a ravine and impaled….

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Which pissed off the guy in the stunning headband to no end.

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He gathered more natives to dig a pit… and used himself as bait to lure the creature.

Edge of your seat drama. Yessiree.

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Success! We shall stab the beast with our spears..

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Light him on fire and make charcoal briquettes!

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But alas, that didn’t turn out well either.

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Headband guy was doomed.

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And chucked off the side of a mountain.

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And as you know it had to..

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Tobanga then captured our heroine.

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Her fellow doctors armed themselves and were in hot pursuit, willing to lay down their lives for the fair haired damsel in distress.

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(Except for the guy on the right who knows that bitch Karen deserved it for digging up the cursed thing in the first place.)

Bam!

Our hero saved the day with an expertly placed shot to Tobanga’s … heart?

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And into the quicksand he went….

Bye bye Stumpy.

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The natives were so grateful they asked our hero if he would be their village witch doctor.

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And though flattered, he refused… and moved back to Burbank with Karen.

Yeah, you know he’s going to regret that.

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Another classic.

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Yes, the husband found another classic horror film while eating lunch the other day.

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The Green Slime, circa 1968. By the time I tuned in the slime had turned into tentacled creatures…

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And the perfectly coiffed nurses were desperately trying to save the injured.

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The creatures were relentless. Think Jehovah Witnesses…. they never give up.

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There was hand wringing and high pitched shrieking and numerous quivering lips.

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But never fear ladies, the hero has a high tech gizmo cart which will save the day.

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Only it didn’t…

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And the space station was soon in peril.

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Mission control had no answer.

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So an escape pod was launched.

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But no! There were creatures outside ready to block its path.

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Cue the hero and his handy dandy ray gun… he barbecued them.

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And then, just when you thought it was safe…. creatures were interfering with lift off on the bridge.

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Our hero battled bravely…

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Or maybe he experienced an interstellar orgasm, it’s hard to tell…. either way, he sacrificed himself for the greater good. The pod escaped.

And the station with all the burning creatures went down in flames.

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Yes sir.

A classic piece of cinema.

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Let’s play…..

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Because I don’t have time to post 50 pictures of squirrels or crap in the husband’s barn this morning.

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John Oliver is coming to rescue me.

Technically he’s not a fictional character, but if you watch the show…. you know he’s a character all the same.

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Of course with John doing the saving, I predict the rescue won’t go as planned and the kidnapper will have two hostages instead of one…

But at least I’ll be laughing while chained to that metal pole.

Who’s coming to rescue you?

What is it with men and old westerns?

 

They say there’s a little boy in every man….. and if that’s true?

Mine is playing cowboys and Indians.

Left to his own devices, my husband could easily watch the western channel 24 hours a day.  I know…. because True Grit, Fort Apache and Rio Bravo have been the background soundtrack to my life for the past 36 years.

He likes westerns, ergo he likes John Wayne.

Not as a real person, he neither knows nor cares who that was….. but rather as an idealized portrait of what a real man is supposed to be. At least on screen.

So when we went to Lowes the other day and were standing on the check out line? You know he had to grab this:

 

 

“Manly meals”.

I’m sure you can hear my eyes rolling from there.

 

 

Who knew my husband wanted to be a cookout legend?

The man who has never read a recipe in his life, but had to buy this book. And may I just say?

I was not impressed.

 

 

 

That is the saddest excuse for steak I’ve ever seen. And with pesto made from cilantro as an accompaniment? The Duke and his horse should be run out of town with their heads hanging down in shame.

 

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Now correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t Texas do everything up big?

If so, these are misnamed…. because those are the skimpiest, most pathetic tacos to ever grace a shell.

And I’m from Maine.

We fill our tacos with haddock and lobster… what do we know?

I’ll spare you the Gun Smokey Barbecue Chicken and the Ringo Kid’s Skirt Steak, but suffice it to say I doubt any of Wayne’s dishes will ever make it to our table.

And now, because this is my blog and you know I can’t help myself…. here’s one final picture of the quintessential manly man.

You can thank me later.

 

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