Inside ze lump vuz my twin ...

Being that A&E is the window to my soul, I got sucked into an episode of Intervention last night. I’ve come to the conclusion that I thrive on television programming that is either going to make me cry or throw up. Last night’s Intervention basically did both as I watched Cassie struggle with an oxycodone and cocaine addiction that she funds by prostituting in her motel room. The experts say that her addiction and sketchy behavior is more than likely a direct result of her neglectful father shipping her off to an inhumane boot camp in Costa Rica when she was 13. I don’t blame Cassie. I would be bitter too if my dad paraded girlfriend after girlfriend around me after my mom took off, ignored my needs, and then ultimately sent me away to a children’s prison when he couldn’t cope with my teenage angst.

But you know what I don’t get about Intervention? How do these people not seeing it coming? Intervention isn’t a new program by any means, and it’s not exactly a secret. The show has won an Emmy. People know about it. When someone approaches you and says they want to make a documentary about your drug addiction, how you are not even the slightest bit suspicious that your big television debut is going to end with you stumbling into a hotel conference room filled with sobbing family members wishing to send you off to a recovery facility by the ocean?

When the big “intervention” takes place, the drug addict always acts so shocked and pissed off. Really? You didn’t see this coming?

Oh, you want to film me illegally consuming drugs and watch my life fall apart in a completely objective manner? Yeah, that is in no way shady. I always knew I’d be famous one day. Let me grab my crack pipe and let’s get this thing rollin’ …

Maybe it’s because I’m cooped up in the house all day or maybe it’s because I’m secretly more morbid than I ever imagined, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been watching far too much disturbing TV. I don’t watch Grey’s Anatomy or Biggest Loser like a normal girl who likes normal things. I’m all about reality TV with spoiled rich women who have nothing better to do but fight or weird educational shows documenting medical abnormalities. Case in point: earlier this evening I watched a clip of a TLC special called “The Boy with 8 Limbs”, a show about a little boy who has a parasitic twin growing out of his chest. I stopped watching it half-way through because I couldn’t think of anything but that line from My Big Fat Greek Wedding when the creepy grandmother talks about her trip to the doctor for a biopsy and says, “Inside the lump he found teeth and a spinal cord. Yes. Inside the lump was my twin.”

In other news, I have a little bit of sunshine poured on me by way of possible job opportunities, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a second interview I’m going to embark on early next week. Working from home has been great, but I am starting to feel loneliness and boredom set in as I go through the same routine every single day. My sleep schedule has gone to crap, and I have ABC Family’s day-time TV schedule memorized. In the future I plan to be a stay-at-home mom, and I know that will be amazing and exciting because I will be busy spending every day with an incredible little baby my husband and I created, but for now, I think it’s in my best interest to rejoin the work force for awhile.

But I don’t want just any job. I don’t want to wind up doing something I hate just as much as the job I quit in November. I won’t be rushing into anything. I’m carefully screening job opportunities and seriously asking myself, “Is this something I truly think I’d be happy doing?” And I was able to answer “yes” to that question when I found this particular job in the paper. So I applied, made it through round one, and am now preparing for my second interview when I meet the woman who I would actually work for.

I’ve made up mind about this. I’m putting all my eggs in this employer’s basket. If I get the job, it will be awesome. If I don’t get the job, I will be disappointed, but reminding myself that it didn’t work out for a reason. God has something else in mind for me. So, that being said, if I do not get hired for this position, I have sworn to myself, to my husband, and to God that I will start writing a book … the very next day after I’m told no by this company. I promised.

I’m 25 years old. It’s time I stop talking about what I want to do one day and start actually doing it.


  1. Great post! And I never watch any of these TV shows, but I feel like I do because of all your reviews! And for that, I thank you! :o)

  2. Woah, woah, woah. An inhumane children's bootcamp in Costa Rica?!?!? WTH. I'm going to have to call my mom and ask about this!


Post a Comment