I am about that age where I don’t have much time left on this world and refuse to let commercials take any more of it.  My husband, who always has some higher level math or science problem going on in the back of his mind, uses commercial times to be a genius, but indulges me anyway.  He understands that at any minute we will go from alert to snoring and drooling on each on the couch, so time really is of the essence.

The DVR is the greatest invention of all time.  I can fast forward through the commercials; most of them do not apply to me anyway.  I’m not buying a car, toys, razors, cereal, lingerie (unless I get a personal trainer and lots of surgery), not going to see the latest chick flick, or caring about the newest reality show that sounds like it was made up by a drunk fourteen year old – just say no, kids.  It’s awesome, I can watch a show in forty minutes, not be deluged with women way skinnier and prettier than me while I’m sitting there eating my way through a pint of some sort of delicious Ben & Jerry’s treat, and I still have twenty more minutes to start something else.

While the DVR is great, some great leader of the world went on and decided to put whole seasons of television on a disc THAT YOU CAN BUY AT THE STORE!  Genius!  Now instead of watching a series in nine months and having to go through commercials, I can watch it whenever I like, potentially in a weekend and move on.  My time to do other things has almost quintupled.  I’d show you the math, but you can trust me.  The downside is that I have to wait to watch it for a year longer than anyone else, and someone inevitably spoils something for me, but I also have the advantage of knowing what series really went into the crapper at the end of the year and to not waste my time.

My husband and I have been watching Fringe.  It’s like X-Files, but with a purpose, sort of.  We’re still waiting in breathless anticipation for a chupacabra or Yeti episode, but that hasn’t happened yet.  We’re on season two, and we’ve learned that there are an infinite amount of worlds or dimensions of our planet.  Slightly different versions of what we’re doing now.  Neat, huh?  They have neatly explained déjà vu as a “glimpse of yourself in another dimension”.  I think we’re supposed to be blown away by this.  We’re supposed to say “Thank you J.J. Abrams, creator of Lost that had many people weeping and angry at the end of that series, you’ve blown my mind, thank you!”  I didn’t do that, I went: “huh”.  Not: “huh?” There was no question, just resignation.

Do you mean to tell me that I am in a million different other dimensions doing the exact same thing every day?  I didn’t win the Powerball, become a queen, someone who cured stress or racism, or become a supermodel?  Really?  There’s just a million me’s out there sitting at some sort of breakfast nook excited about DVD series and telling you about it?  Nah, I’m not buying it.

I think déjà vu is something else entirely.  I think we, as humans, are way more advanced than we think.  What happens is that we are time travelers, but something in the earth’s pyrotechular volcaneticmagnetism (you won’t be able to find that word, it’s Top Secret), makes us forget.  We are talking to our family, then we’re suddenly pulled forward in time to do something, then we’re ripped back to where we were before, but a few seconds earlier, hence the thinking we’ve already done this.  Then we do the inevitable Keanu Reeves: “Whoa, dude, I think I already did this.”

We are talking to our family, then we’re suddenly pulled forward in time to do something, then we’re ripped back to where we were before, but a few seconds earlier, hence the thinking we’ve already done this.  Then we do the inevitable Keanu Reeves: “Whoa, dude, I think I already did this.”

Whoa.  Sorry about that.

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