O, but TiVo is a cruel god. Why would I read the manual? Why wouldn't I just assume that you can record one show while you're watching another? I absorbed this exasperating karmic sucker punch when Jack came home after a gig Sunday night and settled down with a slab of rare red meat and a bottle of red wine to watch the Raiders game, the game I thought the TiVo machine had been recording. He got about ten seconds of a game that was already mysteriously 3-0, and then two-and-a-half hours of me alternately flipping back and forth between cartoons and Inside the Actors Studio with the cast of the Simpsons. I can be so blissfully confident in my chosen technology. Lucky for me I'm so goddamn charming or I'd be writing this from a bed in the Home for Battered Raiders Wives. And it's too early in the season for that.
In other news, thanks to my hair I'm starting to look like a mad crossbreeding between Brenda Vaccaro and that tree she's leaning on.