A Small Victory: here's how to order

Here's how to order

Sometimes I fall asleep with the remote in my hand, my finger still poised above the channel up button. Eventually Justin will wander into the bedroom to question why I am watching Die Hard in Spanish only to find me sitting up, sound asleep, probably drooling on the remote. And, according to him, snoring. How sexy is that picture?

I find myself strangely attracted to movie-of-the-week type shows, the ones where the woman is unfairly accused of a crime and ends up in jail, crying to Meredith Baxter-Birney to help her find justice. Or the ones where the woman is falsely accused of stalking and ends up in court and at the last minute they realize it was Melissa Gilbert all along, but too late, because Melissa Gilbert has disappeared, only to resurface in the 1am showing of a movie about a woman who is unfairly accused of killing her rotten, violent husband, and they find out later it was really Valerie Bertenelli, even though she looks so innocent taking care of those kids she adopted in the last time Lifetime movie.

There are strange things on the television at night, stranger than former cute-as-a-button child stars playing whores in bad movies, stranger than watching Die Hard in Spanish and knowing all the lines anyhow, even though the last time you spoke Spanish it was to tell the busboy at the restaurant you were managing that he had a small dick. Tu pengo es muy muy pequeno, Paco. And that's when he threw the tray at you and quit. The truth hurts, my friend.

I don't watch the informercials because there are only so many times you can watch a man rip the hair from his back. And there are only so many times you can hear Set it and forget it! before you want to jump out of bed and ram your fist through the tv, straight to Ron Popeil's mouth.

But I do watch those odd movies that show up only when the programmers think no one is watching, those bad 70's horror movies or Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns or tv reunion sagas. Every once in a while The Omen II will appear on one of the 190 channels I have and I'll watch it just to see the part where the guy gets it with a pane of glass. And sometimes Class of 1999 will be on and I'll watch it because that is the type of movie you watch only when you think no one will see you enjoying it.

I usually fall asleep long before the Lifetime movie wraps up its ending in a neat little package, with justice served and revenge exacted; long before Clint Eastwood or Bruce Willis get their men or Ron Popeil shows you his fantabulous dinner; long before Nomi Malone does the swimming pool scene....no, no. I did not watch Showgirls the other night. Did. Not.

It's not my fault what happens to my mind late at night, when the cough medicine or the NyQuil or the exhaustion of the day sets in. It's like a whole other part of your brain comes awake during those hours, the part that never surfaces during the day, the part that likes tv dinners and cheap beer and Elizabeth Berkely on her back.

Have you ever fallen asleep masturbating? That's where I was really going with this.

A Small Victory

here's how to order

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