The Netflix Narrative

The thing about living with my dad these days as opposed to living with him back then is that I get to watch a lot more TV now than when I was a kid. On the nights when we are both home, we are two badasses manning the remote control like it’s nobody’s mother effing business. And ever since my little sister gifted us her Netflix account, we have since promoted ourselves from coach to first class.

For the most part, the two of us are pretty good about compromising when it gets time to picking a movie. For the “most” part.

Me: Dad, I’m going to browse through the DVD section while you’re off shopping in another part of Costco.
My dad: You don’t need to buy any DVDs. We have your sister’s Netflix account now.
Me: But none of these movies are available on Netflix.
My dad: They will be. In a few years.

Sometimes, though, the generation gap comes into play.

Me: What do you think about watching “The Godfather” tonight?
My dad: Oh, that sounds good. Plus, we have that! We don’t even need to use Netflix to watch it.
Me: I can’t find it.
My dad: Oh, you know what? We have it on VHS. And I don’t want to set up the machine. Can we watch something else?

This is really almost happening!

This is really almost happening!

Now with all the Netflix sharing going on between our house and my sister’s computer, there has only been one hiccup to date.



Vegans in Vegas on Vacation

In too many ways, junk food is like an ex-significant other.

It’s familiar.
It’s comfortable.
It’s easy.

As you get older, though, you realize how toxic it is having this in your life and one day you have an epiphany: “I can’t keep letting mac and cheese solve my life problems anymore.” And just like that, you sit down your bags of Doritos, your boxes of Frosted Flakes, and your cases of Top Ramen for the inevitable.

“I’m sorry – it’s not you, it’s me. I just feel like we’re going down two different paths, and for me, that path is broccoli and green beans.”

Bye bye, Skittles. Hello, cherry tomatoes.

Bye bye, Skittles. Hello, cherry tomatoes.

But just like an ex that you can’t write off completely, junk food still continues to find ways into your life. It’s the thing you turn to after a particularly bad day at work with complete nincompoops, or a great night out with Johnnie Walker and Don Julio. Either way, you know it will respond at all hours of the day or night, even without an illiterate text message. You sneak into the dark with them, doing your best to cover up your crumbs¬†tracks, and leave feeling guilty and dirty, but shamefully satisfied.

When my cousin Tiffany decided to fly into Las Vegas for vacation on the spur of the moment from San Francisco a few weekends ago, the topic of eating cleaner came up in conversation while in the car, and we confided in each other how our dietary habits had evolved.

Me: I’ve been starting to eat less and less meat recently. I’ll still eat it if it’s there, but I don’t seem to crave it much anymore. I think I could consider vegetarianism, but I’d say veganism is too challenging for me because I like eggs and cheese too much.
Tiffany: Me too! I definitely couldn’t become a vegan. I don’t think I could give up dairy completely.

If I had known there was a purple option, I might have jumped on the cauliflower bandwagon a little earlier!

If I had known there was a purple option, I might have jumped on the cauliflower bandwagon a little earlier.

As I nodded in agreement and continued to drive in silence, I looked over at Tiffany in my passenger seat as I let the significance of her words sink in.

“‘Become a vegetarian’? How are you going to do that when your favorite food is¬†STEAK!?”