Dear DVR/life partner,
I love you, but sometimes you make me feel trapped. You knew I’d been saving those four episodes from NBC’s Office marathon about a month ago. No, I didn’t view them in a timely fashion, but Saved Until Manually Erased programs are supposed to be like Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs — you’re allowed to devour them way after Easter and they should still taste pretty f—ing delicious. But no. There were no Office reruns. Instead: an ultimatum (pictured).
Oh HELL no, DVR/LP! I’d rather unplug everything in the house in order to reboot your sorry ass than succumb to your pathetic yellow triangle button demands. Guess what? We’re in this relationship together. I shower you with attention, know exactly how to push your buttons, service you every single day. You have it good! Stop treating me like a diminished Mario who has no choice but to run in place against the brick wall until time runs out. You and me, DVR. Come on now. Let’s make this work.
P.S. If this was a veiled criticism of me for giving you an STD by recording The Bad Girls Club, I won’t hear it, and I won’t respond to it.
P.P.S. Wait a minute. Who is this “We”?