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There's only one thing worse than having chicken pox as an adult. Luckily, I haven't discovered what that one thing is. |
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Yes, gentle browser, I recently enjoyed ten glorious, incredible days (translation: stuck on the couch for a week and a half) with the chicken pox. With a high temperature and red marks all over my body, I alternated between chills, sweating, and some weird area in between. Much more than any 32-year old should have to endure. But, hey! What better time to catch up on all the TV I've been missing lately! |
Friday, 6:55 AM:
I wake up feeling even worse than the night before, with body aches, fever, and an overwhelming feeling of "blah." I assume I'm getting one of those "bugs." You know, one of those things "everybody gets," one of those things that's "going around." I know I'll have to take the day off from work, take some aspirin, and rest a little. I have absolutely no reason to believe that little red marks are going to engulf my entire body.
7:15: Little red marks are beginning to engulf my entire body. Starting point: my forehead. A few minutes later, my stomach. Then, my torso and back. I swear, they are popping up as I look at myself in the mirror. This is the fastest spreading sickness I've ever encountered. I fear my whole body will become one giant red mark with hair. Oh, about the hair... thinning hair doesn't help in covering up pox on top of the head.
7:30: I call in sick to work. My boss tries to act calm, but I find out later that an e-mail was sent out warning the entire Web division where I work that people might have been exposed to chicken pox. Terrific. Not only do I feel bad physically, now I have the lives of 40 or 50 other people on my conscience as well. Time for television!
7:45: "Cory Everson's Gotta Sweat." Well, she doesn't HAVE to, but she does, along with her co-horts. I want to think, "Boy, they sure are cute." But I just keep thinking, "How the heck can anyone move around so much when I'm so sick?" One of ESPN's many morning workout shows.
8:00: Channel surfing: "CBS This Morning." Why can't the Tiffany Network find capable hosts for this show? "One Day At A Time." Whatever became of Bonnie Franklin? "Doogie Howser, M.D." I wonder if Doogie would make a house call?
8:20: Breakfast: Toast and tea. I'm not sure if I really WANT toast and tea, but it just seems like that's what you're supposed to have when you're sick.
9:00: I turn on "Regis and Kathie Lee." Then I quickly turn it off, realizing I'm sick enough already.
9:09: I switch to "Jerry Springer" just in time to watch "Lesbian Nuns Cheating On Their Alien Husbands," or something like that. Of course, two fights erupt. If there is a Hell, this is what's showing 24 hours a day.
9:30: Martha Stewart is making a 25-course holiday dinner for her family, and at the same time making a life-size model of the North Pole out of styrofoam, whipped cream, and cotton balls. Not only do I feel sick, now I also feel lazy and incredibly inadequate. Make mental note to send Christmas cards this year.
10:00: "Guiding Light." If anyone needs to know why I'm watching this, just take a look at my previous column. And how come no one ever gets sick on soaps, unless it's vital to the plot (amnesia, rare illness, etc.)?
10:23: That Mr. Clean commercial where the woman is moving into her new apartment. She says something like, "This place is a mess!" Well, didn't she look at the apartment before she decided to rent it? You'd think she would notice something like that.
11:00: "The Gayle King Show." Oprah's best friend. But I'm SURE that had nothing to do with her getting her own show.
11:30: "The Andy Griffith Show." Ah, one of my all-time favorites. Then, in the middle of this episode (maybe my fever is giving me extra-sharp deductive powers), I realize that even though this is a Southern town in the 1960s, there are no blacks in sight. Hmmmm...
High Noon: "Headline News." All the day's news in just a few minutes. Brilliant!
1:05 PM: My temperature is now 103. I think I'll sell at 104.
1:10: According to MSNBC, the Dow is up 30 points. They'll never catch up to me.
1:30: I become mesmerized by CNBC. I don't know what any of those little numbers at the bottom of the picture mean, but I don't care.
2:00: "Columbo" on A&E "The Case Of The Chicken-Poxed Man." Well, okay, maybe I'm just delusional. But I can't be TOO delusional. After only a few minutes, I know who the killer is! It takes Peter Falk over an hour and a half. And he calls himself a detective.
2:30: More "Headline News." Nothing has changed.
3:20: Being stuck on the couch watching TV all day is starting to get to me. I'm beginning to memorize the rotation of commercials on certain shows! And I can recite the script from the "Headline News" newscasts. That'll happen if you watch the same news every hour. Hey, I like TV as much as the next guy (actually, much more than the next guy), but even I have my limits. And by "limits" I mean watching it for almost nine hours straight. But I can't turn away. The remote control is glued to my hand as I lay back on the pillow, afraid to move even a few inches in fear of making my body ache even more. I could turn off the TV and go surf the 'Net. But that would involve many things: shutting off the TV, getting off the couch, turning on the computer, and actual typing. I'm not in any condition to do any of those.
3:30: More aspirin, a little orange juice, and a quick review of how many marks I have on my body. I've lost count. Make mental note not to touch any of them... and to find out who gave me them, track him down, and kill him.
4:00: Or, as I call it, The Hour Of The Odd Rerun! There's "Matlock" solving another case. He makes Barnaby Jones seem vigorous. There's Screech on "Saved By The Bell," only now he's a 20-something trying to keep up that high-pitched voice. There goes the "Dukes Of Hazzard" car flying through the air. There's Gallagher on Comedy Central, violating fruit in ways I don't even want to think about. Is he on this channel every night, or is it me?
4:30: "Hard Edition?" "Inside Copy?" "Extra Affair?" Are these all the same show?
4:45: "Blossom." Oh, sorry, it's "a very special Blossom."
5:30: Okay, an interesting piece of trivia for you: "Full House" star Dave Coulier was the, ahem, "inspiration" for Alanis Morrissette's single, "You Oughta Know." And, no, that doesn't give you an excuse to watch this show.
7:00: Dinner time: A grape Popsicle, a piece of toast, and a cup of tea. Am I in prison?
7:30: After a classic "Seinfeld" (aren't they all classic?), I've gotten my second wind. I'm ready for several more hours of the kind of no-holds-barred, senses-shattering entertainment only TV can provide! I think "Wheel Of Fortune" is on.
7:32: I switch to "Entertainment Tonight" after someone asks Pat Sajak, "Is there an F, as in photograph?"
7:48: I'm playing the "ET Game." Count how many times the hosts say the word "supermodel," "hot," or "sexy."
7:58: I catch the last few minutes of MSNBC's "Internight," and I realize there's nothing "Inter" about it anymore. What happenend?
8:30: "Boy Meets World" I could sit here and say that my sickness is what makes me worry if Cory and Topanga are going to break up. But that would be a lie. I've been hooked on this show for years. Is this the definition of "guilty pleasure"?
9:00: More channel surfing: Larry King with his suspenders. I think he just got married for the seventh and eighth time. I watch "Fashion Files" on E! and realize I'm hopelessly behind the times. Yet, somehow that happy that I am.
9:15: Time for a video. I pop in an old episode of "Riptide" from 1984 (yes, I have the collection on video don't ask) complete with commercials, including one where Apple shows their new Mac and says that everyone will be using Mac software! Macs are still the best (I'm buying one later this year), but this sort of reminds me of those predictions from the '40s, '50s, and '60s that said we would all be going around in flying cars and living in glass-enclosed homes and using jet-packs to commute to work. Not quite. My distaste for Bill Gates grows even more. Someone get me a cream pie!
10:00: "20/20." Or, as Barbara Walters says, "Twwwentytwwwenty."
11:30: They've made "Pictionary" into a TV show? What next? "Chutes and Ladders," with your host Wink Martindale? How about a flashy version of "Go Fish?"
11:35: Anyone ever notice that Jay Leno, David Letterman, and Ted Koppel all have faces that could scare small children?
11:58: That commercial for a record called Italian Gold, or something similar. The same exact commercial I first saw, oh, say, around 1974. And the quality shows.
11:59: I reach for the phone after seeing an ad for "The Psychic Friends Network." Maybe they can tell me when I'm going to feel better. I suddenly have a moment of common sense and put the phone down. But it is nice to see "Miami Vice's" Philip Michael Thomas working again. After this, I'm sure he's calling Don Johnson every day: "Hey Don... you sure you don't want to do that reunion movie?"
Midnight: What better way to end a day of sickness and TV overdosing than with my favorite show of all-time, "The Dick Van Dyke Show?" But tonight I notice something: just outside the writer's office, there is a directory hanging on the wall. One of those black boards with the little white letters you slide in and out of the grooves. But why is it hanging there? This is a dead-end next to a door, not a wall near an elevator or secretary or main lobby! I now realize that maybe, just maybe, TV has taken over my life.
It's time for bed. The pillow is calling to me, saying that if I just rest through the night, I'll be peachy-keen the next day (little did I know there would be nine more days of illness to follow). But one last diary entry:
12:30 AM: I realize that I've watched hundreds and hundreds of people on TV today, and you know what?
NONE of them had chicken pox.
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Bob Sassone is a freelance writer based in Gloucester, Massachusetts, where he edits and publishes the boob tube zine Channel Surfer Journal.
© 1998 Tripod, Inc. All right reserved.
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