On Netflix...
I do not normally consider myself a corporate shill. I regularly cheat on Coke by drinking Pepsi, or worse, Mountain Dew. I could care less if McDonald’s catches me going in or out of a Burger King with the obvious remnants of a whopper still on my face. If Head & Shoulders finds me in the shower with Pert, I won’t even stop that sweet, sweet lathering for a second….
There are obvious exceptions. Family pressure is such that I’d be better off marrying Tom Cruise and joining the Church of Scientology than being caught driving a Chevy. In other words, I can be a gay scientologist so long as I drive Ford, and only Ford.
Chik-Fil-A is fast becoming a new love, but I consider that an addiction on par with heroin so it doesn’t count…
I am, however, a Netflix shill (shill = fanatic). You may have recognized that by now, and if you know me, you certainly know the truth of it. If I could find a way to finance it, while at the same time quitting my job and all my social responsibilities…I’d bump my membership up to the 8 movies out at a time. Of course, I’d also lose my marriage, my health and any friendships I have left… So it would be a toss-up…I kid, I kid. Speaking of friendships, I have been known to convince a friend or two…dozen…to join, like some sort of bizarre Netflix missionary. I even recently led a friend of mine to the light and sat with him as he filled his queue for the first time with luscious movie goodness.
About that queue, I somehow cannot keep myself from organizing and reorganizing my mine on almost a daily basis. I’m perhaps one of…well, no other persons, who believe that the 500 limit to my queue is way too little…and borderline cruel. There is basically nothing else in my life that I plan that far ahead for, and yes, I realize how pathetic that is. However, I find much satisfaction out of building my army of Netflix Friends. Regrettably I cannot manipulate their lists, and save them from certain…wastes of time, or more importantly, impose my movies tastes onto their queue.
This begs the obvious question: Netflix, is there anything you can’t do?
There are obvious exceptions. Family pressure is such that I’d be better off marrying Tom Cruise and joining the Church of Scientology than being caught driving a Chevy. In other words, I can be a gay scientologist so long as I drive Ford, and only Ford.
Chik-Fil-A is fast becoming a new love, but I consider that an addiction on par with heroin so it doesn’t count…
I am, however, a Netflix shill (shill = fanatic). You may have recognized that by now, and if you know me, you certainly know the truth of it. If I could find a way to finance it, while at the same time quitting my job and all my social responsibilities…I’d bump my membership up to the 8 movies out at a time. Of course, I’d also lose my marriage, my health and any friendships I have left… So it would be a toss-up…I kid, I kid. Speaking of friendships, I have been known to convince a friend or two…dozen…to join, like some sort of bizarre Netflix missionary. I even recently led a friend of mine to the light and sat with him as he filled his queue for the first time with luscious movie goodness.
About that queue, I somehow cannot keep myself from organizing and reorganizing my mine on almost a daily basis. I’m perhaps one of…well, no other persons, who believe that the 500 limit to my queue is way too little…and borderline cruel. There is basically nothing else in my life that I plan that far ahead for, and yes, I realize how pathetic that is. However, I find much satisfaction out of building my army of Netflix Friends. Regrettably I cannot manipulate their lists, and save them from certain…wastes of time, or more importantly, impose my movies tastes onto their queue.
This begs the obvious question: Netflix, is there anything you can’t do?
posted by Beeley at 3:45 PM
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