DVR Drama by Lisa

Before I "shmoved" to Chicago, I lived alone for a really, really, really long time.

Did I mention it was a long time?

Well, when you're the only one under your own roof, you take certain things for granted. Like...

• When you get home at the end of the day, the last half of your cheesecake is exactly where you left it.

• Your clean clothes can sit in piles on your bedroom floor for as. long. as. you. want.

• The DVR records all of YOUR favorite programs WITHOUT FAIL.

Well, let's just say #1 & #2 I can live with but #3, well, that's not negotiable. Because to put it mildly...

Momma needs her f***ing TV!

Back home in Cali, my DVR was a well-oiled machine, like a fine wine--aged to perfection. I'd spent a painstaking amount of time and energy getting it just right. From prioritizing my programs to making sure there was padding at the beginning and end of my favorite shows "just in case" there was a supersized episode-I'd done it all. I never missed a show. Not even a Jersey Housewives reunion. Until...

I cohabitated.

And since I shmoved in with my beloved future hubby, my DVR situation has become

one. hot. mess.

So far, I've missed..

• The season premiere of Brothers & Sisters (Sally Field is like a mother to me!)

• The premiere of Grey's Anatomy (Yeah, I'm one of the six people who still watch!)

• Several episodes of Project Runway! (Life just isn't whole without a weekly trip to Mood!)

The reasons for this DVR dilemma?

• The definition of "important" television is a debate in our house. (I say anything that ends with a cliffhanger. He says anything that ends with ball.)

• Before my time, the most action Matt's DVR had seen was the time it accidentally recorded Wizards of Waverly Place.

• We have a pretty majuh problem that I like to call Saturday, Sunday and Monday Night Football.

So cut to this past Sunday night.

All was right in the world. The kids were in bed, the refrigerator was cleaned out (don't ask!) and I was sitting comfortably on the couch ready to immerse myself in my own, little television world. A world where...

• I see Matt's lips moving, but there is no sound.

• My biggest stress is whether or not it will be an elimination round on the The Amazing Race.

• I have complete control of the remote.

Not so much.

Matt wanted to watch the Chargers game.

And my beloved future hubby's eyes glazed over when I tried to explain why he couldn't just switch over to channel 187. I had two programs recording at the same time! But wanting to be a good wifey-to-be, I dumped Melrose (I only wanted to find out if Ashley was a better actress than lip syncher anyway) so he could watch his ballgame. After, the TV karma gods would be looking out for me and all would be right in the world as I watched my shows, right?

Not so much.

When I turned on The Amazing Race, Instead of Phil Keoghan, I saw Andy Rooney!

WTF?

According to Matt, who very patiently tried to explain this injustice as I cradled my head in my hands, the end of 60 Minutes had recorded so that meant I wouldn't get the entire episode of The Amazing Race!

But how would I know if those professional poker beeyotches made it through?

Matt slowly explained that this could be an ongoing problem because The Amazing Race may never fully record.

What???

Because of the Central Time Zone. Because of football. And because of 60 Minutes. Long story short, football almost always runs late. 60 Minutes must run in its entirety.

No. Matter. What.

Or, as Matt put it, a bunch of blue hairs (and him) would revolt. So, even if I add padding to the end of The Amazing Race, if a football game goes into OT, I could be screwed. And forced to watch the show, the next day or online. Or worse...

in. real. time.

Gag. And screw you Andy Rooney for ruining my life!

But this is all part of saying, I do, right? Learning to be flexible and to deal with new situations. And learning to, er, compromise.

Um, not so much.

Well, at least not for now.

Not when it comes to my precious TV.

So in the meantime, while I come to grips with reality, I'm going to propose my form of a compromise.

A second DVR.

xoxo

Wo-Man By Lisa

First, we are so happy about Brian's improvement! Caring Bridge

Disclaimer: I love my GIRLfriends. Many of us have been friends for 10 plus years. We shit talk, we bitch and we like to ditch our MEN and get our flirt on during GNO's. They are my friends until the end and I'd kick anyone's ass to protect them. So, the following post is not a reflection of how I feel about hangin' with my LADIES.

Man, I feel like a woman....

I think Shania has it backwards.

My song would be Wo, I feel like a man...

I like to believe I'm a sheep in wolves clothing. On the outside, I'm sure I could be described as somewhat of a girly girl. I get a regular mani -pedi, I love to wear a fun party dress & heels and I've even started a new love affair with my curling iron. (BTW--so much easier than a self blow out & you don't have to wash your hair for THREE to, er, FOUR days!)

But on the inside, I think I fall more on the man side of woman. No offense to females, but it seems like it can be a hell of a lot easier over there! (Minus ball scratching, junk adjusting and communal urinals!)

I'm always bragging to Matt about how cool I believe I am to date... because I think like a MAN :)

I love to watch sports with or WITHOUT him!

I encourage him to go to Vegas for March Madness or JUST BECAUSE!

I tell him to go on more man outings with his boyfriends AND encourage him to flirt!

The list goes on and on...

Until...

The WOMAN inside of me forces her way out!

I f***ing hate it when that happens!

Recently, Matt and I were talking on the phone (Rare because we BOTH hate it--another point in my man column) and out of nowhere I went all chick on him. I started crying about everything-- how I felt lonely, was exhausted and wondered if so and so was mad at me. And instead of supportive words on the other end of the line, I heard a semi-muffled chuckle. I immediately snapped to attention.

"Are you laughing at me?" I questioned as I wiped a tear away.

"Hell yeah! Because you want to be a dude so bad but you can't deny your inner chick!"

F**k. He was right. Crying about nothing. About to start my period. Bloated. Female things I simply could not deny.

But...

I hate shopping.

I burp loudly.

I watch 60 Minutes.

"Sorry GIRLfriend", he said. You are really, really cool and super beautiful and amazing and I'm head over heels in love with you... (OK, he didn't really say all that!)  "But as long as you use a tampon, get bitchy and listen to Barry Manilow, you're a WOMAN."

He had a point-- not about the tampons or the bitchiness... but, I did heart Barry-- a lot. Could I give up "Mandy" or "Copacabana" or more importantly, did I even want to? No and No.

But...

I think Heidi Klum is smokin' hot!

I watch old Bulls games on ESPN!

I'm visual!

But despite my man-like behavior, my damn ovaries and boobs sell me out every single time!

Like this past weekend when Matt was in town for my birthday. (YEAH!) After my emotional breakdown just days before,  I was determined NOT to cry again-- overanything. So I didn't...

Not when I watched the video his kids made me.

Not when I opened my Elton John- Billy Joel tickets.

Not even when Elton & Billy sang Candle in the Wind.

But then when I was driving him to the airport my eyes started welling. I tried to distract myself by talking to him about the weather, a work meeting, ANYTHING! When we pulled up to the curb, I gritted my teeth, gave him a closed mouth kiss and practically threw him out of the car. (Sorry, babe!)   I was, victorious! Ha!

But then I couldn't help it. I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw him walking through the double doors and suddenly I could feel the tears burning in my throat...and then my eyes filled up.... and then before I knew it, I started gushing like a freakin' geyser!

Suddenly, even in my own watery eyes, I was losing my self-proclaimed man cred. I could no longer deny it.

Maybe I was a f***ing chick after all.

But they have it so freakin easy over there in Manland.

If only I had a penis...

* I'd never have to remember anyone's birthday! Yet, my name would always end up on the gift & card!

*I'd never have to wear a bra! (Although those of you with MOOBS need to seriously figure something out)

*I'd never have conflict with female family members because my wife or girlfriend would handle it for me!

*I'd never have to multi-task simply because I COULDN'T.

*I'd get to say, "This is the way I was when you met me" all day long!

*I'd get to constantly fondle my junk!

But despite my ta-tas, other female parts and my OCCASIONAL meltdown, I still say I'm more of a MAN at heart.

Well, at least until Matt reads this and completely blows my cover!

xoxo