It's kind of an inside joke

Oh TLC, we had some great times. Remember “Born Without a Face”? Or the countless hours I spent with you and “I Am My Own Twin”? You used to be so fresh, so original, so on the ball when it came to showing explicit surgeries and children who would never have a normal life. You used to stand for something, even if it was gross. And I loved you for it.

But you’ve changed. I know I’ve been a little distant, what with some other channels developing some great reality content as well. And maybe I should have been more attentive. But I can’t believe what you’ve become. What used to be a truly original reality based channel for liver transplants and kids with two heads has now become the Vh1 of the Discovery Networks. I’m confused. How is Hoarding: Buried Alive not the EXACT same show as Hoarders, but without the gripping family story? And I’m sorry, I’ve seen previews for Addicted and I thought (for the first three times I saw them) that I was watching commercials for a new season of Intervention.

Now I know you’ve been a little broken up since you realized Jon is a dick and Kate plus 8 probably won’t be as successful. But don’t let that bring you down! After all, you still have Toddlers & Tiaras. And don’t forget my new favorite: I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant.

Fear not, TLC, I know it’s been a while, but with your new shows it just seems, frankly, a little sad and desperate. How about this. Why don’t we get together some weekend, sit down, remember the old times and start bringing your focus back to what really matters. And no, it’s not ripping off A&E. It’s conjoined twins. Oh you!

He lived to 38. I know, I was shocked too. The least surprising thing? Drugs were involved.

I work at a company filled with half cool people, half shitty wannabe hollywood insiders. Every once in a while, this chick I love organizes an event for all the current and past assistants. They’re usually okay, but since I love this girl and miss our shared hatred of another coworker, I always go. The last outing was bowling. Yes, you guessed it, I work in 1987. However, I bit my tongue and went. As per usual, I liked almost everyone there. Almost. Much to my chagrin, there was one guy there that I had never met. And he was, in every sense of the word; that guy. He would always talk really loudly about how stoked he is that he is his own boss when a group of young girls walked by our lanes. He kept screaming about shots. And it only took him about an hour and a beer and a half to take his shirt off, but in his defense he had previously “smoked like four joints on the way over”. I love drunks and stoners, but hate those who pretend to be way more wasted than they are. I went to high school. i get it.

when i asked what he does, he said “i’m a screenwriter now, so glad i’m not a desk slave anymore.” Maybe I’m overly sensitive, but now I really hate this guy.

So several weeks go by and I completely forget this guy exists. Today, I’m looking at  websites for work and one of them (for better or worse) is the huffington post. opinion fucking central. I notice there’s a headline titled Is Avatar the Future of Movies? I hope not. Now I didn’t like Avatar as much as everyone else seems to have, so I’m intrigued. I click on the link and go on to read the most inane drivel i’ve read since college. I’ve been tricked! It’s not a post about the mediocre story and character development in Avatar. Instead it’s a self serving monologue about how awful people are who hang out in coffee shops, claim to be writers and name drop. While I agree with this statement, the irony of someone writing about it while AT A COFFEE SHOP WHILE WRITING A BLOG AND NAME DROPPING is disheartening. Out of morbid curiosity, and to make a mental note to never read this writer again, I glance at the writers name. It’s the same guy that I met  few weeks ago at the work function. I almost vomit.

Perhaps me writing this will be seen in the same light. But I will say this. At least I have the decency to write my self serving blog on my companys’ time, in the unpretentious space of my work desk.