Thing 280 Watch Paint Dry

I love these extended metaphors. Straight up. You already know this if you've been reading this blog for longer than the last twenty or so Things. I seem to stick one of these in whenever and wherever I can. Thankfully, this one came with an added bonus: I got this instead of watching Grey's Anatomy.

On the one hand, there's relentless boredom and tedious monotony, while on the other hand, there's watching paint dry... See what I did there? Seriously though, I lived with Clo Bear and Blond Boss for a year and a half (God be good to them, that must have been hard on them), and for my sins I had to put up with this every (I want to say Monday night, but I think I've repressed the memory of when the Girls' Choice telly was on) week. So it's not like I'm judging it without having watched it. That'd be like disliking French people without ever having been to France, though it remains perfectly acceptable to dislike if you have been there...

I say this in reference to the famous quote from Jean Paul Sartre: Hell is other people. Later, a smart arse would change this to "Hell is other Frenchmen", and later again, and even bigger smart arse would change it to "Hell is Grey's". I'd have plumped for the entire Grey's Anatomy but I ran out of space on the beer box I'd destroyed for a canvas...

I've digressed again... back to Grey's...

As TV shows go, they're on to a winner. It's got everything: Ridiculously attractive people, whiny obnoxious characters. Blood. There's also blood. And that's pretty much everything you need for compelling drama. Throw in a token "cranky doctor" (the Chinese one, Dr Cox, House, the peg legged lady out of ER) and you're set. Formula for TV that actually managed to depress the hell out of me. And I mean that. It was non-stop, around the clock depressing.

Good soundtrack though.

It's not like one of those things where I sit there and pretend to hate it, but secretly enjoy it, I just literally didn't have anywhere else to go. So I sat and endured...
Not this week though. I slapped a truck load of paint onto a piece of cardboard and watched it dry rather than expose my eyes to that nonsense. It took fifty two minutes. Fifty two minutes of staring at cardboard, meanwhile Pony Boy and The Frenchman started watching Chronicles of Riddick. What a mean bunch of bastards... They know I can't watch.

The Thief was watching Grey's, so I decided to intrude on her, bringing my sign with me, I ambled into where she was watching Grey's. Plonked myself down next to her, and started trying to shove the sign in between her and the screen. I know what you're thinking: What a gent. Right?

No? I know. I was kind of pissed about the whole Riddick thing.

Still as extended metaphors go, I was actually pretty pleased with this one. And it kind of inspired me a little. I got a small flood of ideas for other extended metaphors. I think I'll stretch a couple of these out over the last few weeks of The Project...