Part 21 (1/2)

Fun!

But the mystery of Paid Programming pales in comparison with the other shows on the TV listings. I was skimming the guide and came across something on Channel 28 called Educational Programming (EDUC). I tuned in, but the screen was blank. I kept waiting for someone to educate me, or failing that, a guy to sell me something special, but no, nothing.

This doesn't bode well for our educational system.

It's like No TV Left Behind.

I kept spinning the dial, as we used to say, and came upon an equally ambiguous listing on Channel 98, called Local Original Programming (LO). I tuned in, and it was showing a man and a woman talking to each other, neither of whom seemed very interested in the conversation.

In other words, my second marriage.

I would rename Channel 98 The Strike Two Channel (LOSER). Or maybe The What-Were-You-Thinking? Channel (GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN).

Either way, you couldn't pay me enough to watch that programming.

I kept looking for something else to watch, as I had three hours of mandatory viewing left to fill, and I came across Channel 22, which purported to be Government Access Programming (GA). hours of mandatory viewing left to fill, and I came across Channel 22, which purported to be Government Access Programming (GA).

Wrong.

It had nothing to do with government, but was Paid Programming In Disguise, namely, a series of real estate ads. (”Rear Fenced Yard!” ”Six Years Young!” ”Family-Friendly s.p.a.ces!”). Likewise, The Information Channel (INFO) had nothing to do with information, but was more Paid Programming In Disguise, albeit for non-profit organizations. (”Monthly Sunday Breakfast!” ”Annual Spaghetti Dinner!” ”Winter Dance!”) I watched for ten minutes and came to the realization that Paid Programming for non-profits is just like Paid Programming for profits, except with worse music.

Things picked up when I got to Channel 166, The Fear Channel (FEAR). It was showing something called FearNet On Demand, so I clicked and got a menu of scary choices such as Blood & Guts, From Beyond, and Interrogation Room. I looked for The Economy, but they didn't have it.

That's probably on The Apocalypse Channel (PUT ALL YOUR MONEY IN A MATTRESS).

Or The Armageddon Channel (NOW GRAB THAT MATTRESS AND RUN FOR THE HILLS).

Or The End-Of-Life-As-We-Know-It Channel (AND REMEMBER, THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE).

Anyway I was too scared to click on any of the Fear categories, but I applaud the idea of a Fear Channel. Why shouldn't there be channels devoted to the major emotions? I'd like to see a Love Channel (CHOCOLATE CAKE). And a Hate Channel (LIVER WITH ONIONS).

And a l.u.s.t Channel. (GEORGE CLOONEY).

(WITH CHOCOLATE CAKE).

Creamy

I never use any moisturizer on my face at night, but when I went to visit daughter Francesca in New York, she and her roommate smeared cream all over their faces before they went to bed.

And their combined age is still less than mine.

So I thought, I should do this. I should take a lesson from the kids. Maybe if I used a moisturizer at night, my face wouldn't look like a roadmap of wrinkles, with I-95 running parallel to the turnpike on my forehead. So I went home, dug some cream out of the closet, s.p.a.ckled my cheeks, and went to bed. Which is just when Little Tony the puppy trotted over to my pillow and sat on my face.

Whoever said you should use a night cream didn't have a dog who sleeps on their cheek.

To interrupt the story, I never had a dog sleep anywhere near my head, much less on my face. All my dogs always sleep at the foot of the bed, and it works out just fine. My feet are always warm, and I doze off listening to the rhythm of their contented snoring.

It's like Ambien, only with fur.

But Little Tony, the new black-and-tan Cavalier puppy, sleeps on my pillow, with his head resting on my cheek or my neck. I know it sounds weird, but it's cute, cozy, and fun. I highly recommend it, if your social life is at an all-time low, too. I know it sounds weird, but it's cute, cozy, and fun. I highly recommend it, if your social life is at an all-time low, too.

In any event, I forgot about this habit of Little Tony's as I put on the night cream, so when he plopped his puppy tus.h.i.+e on my cheek, it took me a second or two to understand the implications. And by the time I detached his b.u.t.t from my face, stray black hairs clung to my cheek like a beard.

Not a good look, for a single gal.

Of course, I didn't give up, as I need both smooth skin and warm puppy, so since then I've gone to bed with the night cream and Little Tony, craning my neck to keep his fur off my face, or my face off his fur, generally twisting and turning most of the night until we both fall into an exhausted, albeit glossy, sleep.

The plot thickens when Little Tony has the first of what would be three operations. As you may remember, the poor little guy had a mother who accidentally bit off his foreskin, evidently taking literally the term ”castrating b.i.t.c.h.”

In any event, he needed an operation to reconstruct his foreskin, but it came out too big. So he had a second operation, but it came out too small. He just had his third operation, and this time it's just right.

It's like Goldilocks, only with, well, you get it.

Why this matters is that after each of these operations, he had to wear one of those plastic Elizabethan collars for dogs, shaped like a cone over his head. He wears it for two weeks after every operation, and with three operations, he has spent six weeks of his young life in the plastic collar, or, as I call it, the Tony Coney.

So you know where this is going.

If you thought it was crazy to have dog face stuck to your night cream when you sleep, try wrapping that puppy in a plastic cone, slapping it on top of your face cream, and trying to catch forty winks. plastic cone, slapping it on top of your face cream, and trying to catch forty winks.

It's fun.

The only experience I've had like this happened ages ago, when I was in sixth grade, trying to clear up a case of adolescent acne by using Cuticura ointment. Please tell me I'm not the only person in the world who remembers old-school Cuticura. I went online before I wrote this and am astounded that the product still exists, though I'm sure it's improved.

It would have to be.

Back then, it was a round orange tin full of smelly, gooey, black-green gunk. Somebody told my mother it was good for pimples, but they must have been criminally insane. In retrospect, it was good for greasing axles. Yet I smeared it faithfully on my skin every night, reeking like a motor pool, and every morning my skin looked worse.

In any event, I digress. My fancy night cream is better than Cuticura, even though I get the occasional dog-hair sideburn. Two weeks later, I am sleepless but happy, but there's not a wrinkle on Little Tony.

So maybe it works.

The Value of Money

Now that we have an economic stimulus plan, everybody is trying to figure out how it will work.

Me, I opt out.

I'm trying to figure out how Jennifer Aniston spent $50,000 on her hair during her movie tour to London and Paris.

I'm not sure she got her money's worth, unless they blew her dry with gold.

Although I admit, there's part of me that gets it. Hair matters to women. If I won the lottery, I might pay somebody $50,000 for great hair. In fact, I bet if you asked the average woman how much she would spend to get hair like Jennifer Aniston's, that woman would answer, ”Anything.”

So already, it's cheaper.