An open letter to Television

Dear Television,
I’m bored with you now. Considering our extensive history together, it pains me to see us drifting apart. So I present to you, free of charge, my ideas for shows that will make you interesting again.

When Pygmy Hippos Attack
It’s about when pygmy hippos attack.

Patrick
Sponge Bob is pointless and annoying, and now, thanks to a super mega death ray, he’s also dead. This new animated series follows the adventures of Patrick, his lovable friend who should have been the star from the beginning.

Dora the Fedora
During one of her adventures, Dora is magically turned into a hat. She is purchased at a second hand shop by a lonely teenager and all of her adventures now involve his head lice.

Dora the Abhorrer
This is the other word I liked when I Googled ‘what rhymes with explorer’. I dunno what happens. Maybe she just walks around hating stuff. Like exploring. Then she doesn’t leave the house at all. But she hates that too. So she goes back to exploring. It’s a vicious cycle.

Law and Order H.U (Hillbilly Unit)
Everybody gets away with murder by burning the bodies beyond the point of recognition. It’s impossible to identify a body using dental records if the entire town has never been to a dentist.
Most crimes are the result of a tractor dispute. The rest involve the alleged theft of Lynyrd Skynyrd records, or rage and confusion regarding the spelling of Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Australia’s next top person who hands out flyers while dressed as an animal or inanimate object
After various intense flyer-handing-out challenges, the winner gets to promote the show by dressing as a giant flyer and handing out flyers. Title can be shortened to the more convenient ANTPWHOFWDAAAOIO.

Brothers & Sisters & The Hot Shirtless Guy who lives down the road
I… I would watch this show. A lot.

Two Tree Hill
Same show, extra tree in the title. What if the one tree gets struck by lightning? Then you have no trees. You have to think these things through, people.

The Average Race
13 teams run from one end of Broadmeadows shopping centre to the other. The winner gets an all expenses paid* trip to Muffin Break.
*Expenses must not exceed $5.50

CSI Midsomer
You have to admit, there is a suspiciously high murder rate in that town.

Survivor: Antarctica
Ice. Frostbite. 24 hours of darkness each day. Survive that, bitches.

PS: Please put Bromwell High back on the air. It’s the funniest show you’ve never seen.

Single white female

Classes finished two weeks ago, and the reality of the sitch-you-aye-shon is this: if there isn't a place I have to go to every day, I’m not going to leave the house. Pyjamas have been on before 6pm every night; daytime television has filled me with rage, then entertained me, then filled me with rage again; and I’ve realised that I need to stop living like this before my looks fade. So here’s my lonely hearts ad:

ME

Special skills include Super Mario Bros 1 & 3, returning your CDs/DVDs after I borrow them, preparing food that is burnt on the outside and yet somehow still frozen on the inside, and going from being an incredibly calm individual to a ball of sOOper rage as soon as I get behind the wheel of a car. Everyone on the road is an idiot. Except me. I drive like a champ.

I don’t do cleaning.

YOU

Seeking fellow human being (preferably with man-parts) older than 18 (to avoid prison) and younger than my parents (to avoid creepyness) who enjoys early nights, hates long walks on the beach because they’re exhausting, prefers staying home and watching telly to going out, and isn’t freaked out by Mr Potato Head collections.

Has to be sympathetic to my COMPLETELY 100% RATIONAL phobias, eg. avoiding the giraffes when we go to the zoo because those things aren’t right and will haunt my dreams, almost dying from the flu because I refuse to get a flu shot until they come up with an alternative to needles, leaving the busted light globe in the overhead light and living in darkness because I’m too scared to get on a ladder to change it.

Looking for someone who doesn’t use big words that I won’t understand; someone who will accept that our relationship is over the minute Stephen Fry shows up on my doorstep saying that the whole gay thing was just a 'phase' and he wants to run away with me; someone who knows that in-between the butchering of songs, Glee is an awesome show. All you have to do is tape it and watch it back later so you can skip through the musical numbers and the ads. You can get through the whole episode in a little over 20 minutes. It’s the show that’s hilarious without being time consuming.

Must be happy for me to follow you around all night at parties where I don’t know anyone but you. Better still, you shouldn’t drag me to parties where I don’t know anyone but you.

I find the most attractive thing about a man is his eyes, so you must have them. Or at least one and a glass one. They don’t even need to work. But if you are blind, you have to have a guide dog because that’s way more awesome than a stick.

Must be prepared to admit that I’m always right. Because I am. And to argue with me would just be embarrassing for you.

No Personal Trainers/Athletes/Gym Buffs. I don’t have the energy to deal with you.

You say potato...

StOOpid internet purchase of the week: Elvis Mr Potato Head.
Why: Because I freakin love Mr Potato Head.
You shouldn't be allowed to have a credit card: Thanks. I know. I spent 20 minutes trying to decide between the Elvis one and the Gene Simmons one (which was AH-MAY-ZING) but I've never really been a Kiss fan, so he's now on my list of future stOOpid internet purchases.

I love the little potato-y bastard because he's capable of so much more than just this

and this

he can also take part in Movember

go on a bender

spend a raunchy evening with Mrs Potato Head

deal with the consequences of spending a raunchy evening with Mrs Potato Head

catch up on some reading

pretend to be interested when Hipster-Tickle-Me-Elmo starts banging on about his record collection


and use wrestling moves to defeat other popular childhood toys for the title of Supreme Ruler

I predict a riot

Two years ago I put a coin into a booth with a scary talking plastic head in it. This is what came out.

I’ve kept it in my wallet ever since because the personality section was pretty bang on. I’m fastidious in the ‘excessively particular about details’ sense (a big thank you to dictionary.com and everyone who has ever pointed out my obsessive compulsive tendencies), and the bit about old friends has me written all over it. I met two of my best mates at age 4, one when I was 6, and the other when I was about 10, and have a complete inability to have a conversation with anyone I haven’t known for 10 to 20 years.

In my early to mid teens I had a massive interest in this kind of stuff, and thanks to my ability to pick what song was going to be playing on the radio before I got into the car, I was convinced that I was just a wee bit psychic. I also have a sixth sense for knowing that when I’m in the general vicinity of any kind of ball, that ball is inevitably going to collide with my head. Eventually, my bored and possibly psychic 15 year old mind decided it would be fun to invest in a set of tarot cards. It wasn’t my first time-killing project; originally I was trying to learn how to read palms, but gave it up when I found out that palm reading is more about your personality than your future. That, and it was really, really hard. Really.

The cards had their successes and their failures. They once told one of my friends she was going to get pregnant, and just because it hasn’t happened in the last 8 years doesn’t mean they were wrong. It could still happen. One day. They didn’t specify a time frame. Like that fortune cookie I got in Vegas 5 years ago that said ‘Your love life will be happy and harmonious.’ Still waiting on that one, because I refuse to believe that a cookie would lie to me.

So yesterday I pulled out the cards for the first time in years. First they called me proud, arrogant and stubborn (only the last bit is true. I will out-stubborn anyone in a stubborn competition on any day of the week), then there was an overwhelming message of ‘you are about to be robbed.’ So if you’re planning on stealing something from me, it would be awesome if you could... you know… not do that. Thanks.

LAUREN’S PSYCHIC PREDICTIONS:
-You will eat something before the end of the day.
-At some stage next week, you will walk past a man on the street.
-A politician will do something that makes people mad.
-Stupid people will write letters to the paper about how they're not racist, but...
-Apple will invent an iPhone app that gives you an electric shock every time you start to talk about your iPhone apps.
-Chris Martin will leave Gwyneth Paltrow for Yoko Ono, whose artistic differences will cause the breakup of Coldplay. The world will rejoice.
-No one will invent the hoverboard. Ever.