I’ve had HBO for years, and I love it, but for some reason I felt like I would be cheating on it if I had Showtime too.
The new hit show “Californication” changed my mind. I finally got tired of feeling left out whenever anyone talked about it. I’m hip to “The L Word” and “Queer as Folk,” thanks to DVDs, but David Duchovny’s latest foray onto the small screen isn’t available in that format yet, and if there’s anything I hate, it’s being ill-informed about the pop culture zeitgeist.
So I added Showtime to my roster.
My cable bill is now a whopping $176 a month.
That’s just the tip of the iceberg: If I added up my cable bill, my Netflix charges, my DVR and the number of times Blockbuster has “converted my rental to a purchase,” my personal entertainment nut is probably bigger than my car payment. I now own more DVDs than I do books, which is sad to admit.
And please don’t tell me to get DirecTV. People willing to attach those big gray bowls to the outside of their houses are just inviting trouble from Martians, if you ask me.
I’m starting to wonder if my priorities are screwed up. Last winter, I spent 36 hours holed up in my darkened house watching the first two seasons of “Nip/Tuck” on DVD.
I started the series on a Sunday evening, and I watched until 1 a.m. I dragged myself out of bed the next morning, got my kids to school, went home and watched three more episodes — in the middle of the day, with the shades pulled, in my pajamas.
It went on like this for the next two days. I slogged through my respective responsibilities like a drone on autopilot, my personal hygiene largely ignored, until I could be alone to finish the first two seasons. I kept telling myself it wasn’t my fault; it was God’s fault for making Julian McMahon so hot.
I can’t seem to shake the nagging feeling that this is not OK. I don’t think my grandmother, who used to spread leftover beans on bread and call it a sandwich, would approve of my spending this much time and money on TV. That thought casts a shadow of guilt on the thrill I get watching a new episode of “Weeds” on the night it airs.
How am I supposed to enjoy HBO’s “Tell Me You Love Me” now, knowing I could put all that money to much better use? (OK, I can’t really say I enjoy “Tell Me You Love Me,” but I watch it anyway.)
I almost feel like every time I flip through my plethora of cable channels, I should drop a quarter in a bucket earmarked for something more worthwhile. It could be my version of a carbon credit; I need to somehow offset the money I spend on the entertainment industry.
I could do some good deeds too: For every old lady I help across the street, I can tune in to see if Scott Baio is, indeed, still 45 and single. For every person I say a kind word to, maybe I can bank an episode of Showtime’s “Dexter.”
I like this plan. My desire to watch “The Riches” on FX is going to make me a better, more budget-conscious person. So maybe it is money well spent. At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
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RITAREDEYE@tribune.com
