Whore!

Todd went out with the boys to watch the South Carolina game last night. When Todd goes out for an evening, that is always my night to catch up on all my Tivo-ed shows that I can't watch when he is around. I could watch them, but as he is a merciless entertainment snob, his snide comments take all enjoyment out of the viewing. As we say around our house, if there are no hookers or junkies in it, Todd does not deem it worthy of viewing.

So, on the Thursdays when he and the boys go out, I open a bottle of wine (always with the goal of only having a couple of glasses, but usually with the result that the bottle is empty at the end of the night) and then watch crappy television. Last night it was Raising Helen (not as crappy as one might think! Or maybe that was the wine talking) and then a couple of episodes of my guiltiest of all guilty pleasures, Laguna Beach.

As I was finishing up the second episode, and the clock edged towards 11 p.m., I knew that Todd would be home soon. I knew i was setting myself up for some major ridicule if I was found cradling my last glass of wine, huddled on the couch with the dog, enraptured with Laguna Beach. This is where, in my wine-muddled state, I came up with brilliant justification for watching LB.

You see, I am 34 years old. 16 years ago, i was 18 years old. Matilda, on the other hand, is ten months old; in 16 years, she will be about 17 years old. Laguna Beach is my link with Matilda, a halfway point between the two of us. Therefore, my viewing of Laguna Beach is research into the mind of the teenage girl. It is me keeping up with what girls do and think and say. It is me peering into the future world of tiller.

Whatever. Why am I trying to justify this? I am such a drunk, crappy teen t.v. whore and I am proud of it.