… But I’m going to talk about it anyway.
Last week my roommate and I finally entered the digital age. We got a DVR.
I definitely feel like the guy who just watched Heat, a la Jim Gaffigan’s comedy bit, and now, ten years later, wants to talk about it with all of his friends.
For a while I’d argued against the acquisition of such an item based solely on the changes it would make in my life scheduling. Life is so much easier when you can get out annoying social obligations early by saying that you don’t want to miss 30 Rock. When you’ve got DVR all of a sudden you’ve got no excuse not to attend every single little dinner, drink or what have you. “Oh just record it.”
Albeit, that’s a weak excuse, and just a few hours after installing the new box, my roommate and I stood pie-eyed before it like two toddlers with the shiniest BB Gun imaginable on Christmas morning. We plugged in all our favorite series and then sat around and waited for them to record, because God forbid we actually watch them live. That would be insulting the box and its intended purpose.
We’ve gone a bit mad, actually. When looking at the depressingly empty storage meter, my roommate decided to record all the long format movies that neither of us would ever watch, just so it we’d have something on there. The Bridge Over the River Kwai, Seven Years in Tibet, Titanic, etc.
We haven’t watched any of them.
Some days into the digital occupation I began to feel a slight panic set in. I’ve a limited devotion to a handful of prime time network series. With the fall season already in full swing, I’ve got my week outlined. Monday night, at home. Tuesday night, out. Wednesday and Thursday night, at home. Friday, out. Weekends, splayed somewhere in enraptured in whatever deviance I can afford.
Now I can do whatever I want, whenever I want and catch up on my shows at any time. Such freedom was not meant for man. Now that commercial breaks have no meaning in digital playback, when am I supposed to go to the bathroom? Get a new beer? How am I supposed to find the will to pause an episode of Scrubs that I’ve seen a billion times and just walk away and do whatever it was that I was supposed to do when I can just watch the whole thing another billion times?
I am afloat in a sea of entertainment possibilities and drowning like a cramped up fat kid swimming ten minutes after the pie eating contest.