Sunday, February 7, 2016

How I spent my Saturday night

with strippers and blow and men on motorcycles and other fun and exciting stuff!

oh wait.

All I wanted to do was watch Saved By The Bell: The College Years. All of my friends were hanging out with "other friends" or "boyfriends" and I was like can anyone just think about me for once.

So there I was. Stuck at home. Just Hulu Plus and me.


Let's retrace my steps.

The last I saw of the Apple TV remote was about 11:30 a.m. when I was awake on a Saturday morning eating popcorn and watching American Idol.

Because there is absolutely nothing tragic about my life.

I remember pausing American Idol when that little 17yo boy I love announces to God and national TV that his girlfriend broke up with him because she was scared he would choose the competition over her. RT if u cried.

I paused the television program and yelled at my roommate, "WHO WOULD BREAK UP WITH THAT BOY. 17YO GIRLS DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOOD." I'm not emotional.

And that's the last I remember feeling that beautiful, tender, silver, rectangular-shaped remote in my hands.

So I looked everywhere. I looked in the couch cushions. I looked on the floor. I looked in my room. I got on my actual hands and knees and looked for it.


Then I made my roommate look. She looked everywhere. She looked so hard she worked up a sweat before her date and honestly, I regret nothing.

Then Layne came over and we made him look. He looked in the couch. He looked in the fridge. He looked through my underwear in bathroom because apparently I put remotes down my pants and forget about them.

"How many gays does it take to find a remote?" -Layne, the only gay looking, so.

Then Layne and I tipped over the couch and literally took a knife and slit part of it open on the bottom because we I was convinced it was in there and also because I'm not dramatic at all. Like I slit open part of the couch because I was that desperate for the remote?????????????? Someone recommend a counselor.

Nothing. Except a sunglass lens, hair, and a quarter.

Then Layne was all like, I bet Winston ate it.

So then I took Winston outside to do-do and examined his do-do to see if there was an Apple TV remote in there. Seriously, someone send a counselor.


Then a friend texted me that I could get the remote app on my phone. So I fiddled with that for way too long before realizing I didn't have the patience to figure it out. Something about home sharing and blah blah blah.

Nothing. Except v frustrated PMS.

*2 hours later* *like literally 2 hours spent looking for a tiny silver remote*

Layne left and I headed to Northpark to buy a new remote at the Apple Store.

8:46 p.m. CST *9 hours without said remote*

I am parking in a Northpark parking garage and walking toward the door, which is a great time to have your brain remind you that someone was like shot there not too long ago.


So I head to the Apple Store and I tell the nice young hipster man that I need a new remote. I say something along the lines of, "It's fine. It's Saturday night and I have nothing else to do besides watch TV, so if you could just think about me tonight during your nightly prayers."

Then he takes my credit card, swipes it, and says, "Lord, please be with Paige M. Skinner. Help her figure out the remote and get her act together."


No one said anything about having to get their act together, so now I'm offended???????????

I leave Northpark and survive without getting shot and I go to the Cheesecake Factory for good measure because at that point, I think I deserve it.

Then I go to the grocery store to buy tape and string and water and Dr Pepper because over my dead body will I spend $19 on a remote again, so I did this.

I finally was all settled in and I watched exactly two 30-minute episodes of Saved By The Bell: The College Years before realizing I was tired af and then I went to bed.

I didn't even get to the episodes about Kelly having an affair with the hot professor, but I did dream I was pregnant with the hot professor's child, so.

This is what you have to look forward to, kids.

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