People,

Ladybetrothed Sarah has been ill all week. She has this nasty flu/cold that's going around, carrying its potent trifecta of the sneezing, the puking and the pooping.

Anyway, being in this state she automatically gains remote control control. And that's fine, since we usually both want to watch whatever is the worst thing on television at that particular time. However, last night she may have gone too far.

At 9 she made me change the channel from an admittedly kinda boring Sox game to the new six-part miniseries Revelations.

A few strikes against it:

-This is an awful, awful, terrible program. Its weird mix of religion and the paranormal wrapped around the apocalypse is....how do you say?...rough.

-A girl gets hit by lightning for taking the lord's name in vain and then becomes a conduit for God to speak through, always in scripture. Yikes.

-Despite the guilt and repression I carry around from my semi-Catholic upbringing, a hot nun in a habit couldn't even make me all that interested.

-It's six fucking parts! Over six fucking weeks! What the hell happened to the 3 hours one night, 3 hours the next classic miniseries format?

I guess I'll give my full report of how I feel about it in the beginning of June when it's finally over - If I live that long and don't die from old age.

Good lord.