This is a common conversation at my house on Monday nights.

Bryan: I’m going to move that with my mind.
Me: You can’t, Bryan.
Bryan: I’ll use my powers.
Me: You don’t have powers, Bryan.
Bryan: I sense that you’re doubting me.  I know this because I read your thoughts.  With my powers.
Me: I thought your power was to move things with your mind.
Bryan: I.. I’m absorbing other powers.  As we speak.
Me: Alright, whatever.
Bryan: I have convinced you with my newly acquired mind-control power.

Why?  Because Heroes has sucked us in.  Which makes me feel retarded, because I should not care so much about fictional characters.  Me breaking down in sobs over the dismissal of Betty on Top Chef is completely justfied, though.. because she’s a real person.  On a meaningful tv show.

But every Monday night, everything in the house must stop (we will even put the dogs out in the 23-degree cold if they can’t behave) while this stupid show is on.  And I will sit crouched over a cup of tea and let it go cold because my sipping might be so loud that I may miss some very crucial piece of information.  In short, we’re ridiculous.

So much so that when I went to work out last night at 8:15, I made them turn not one, but two TVs (of the five on the wall) to Heroes.  As if having it on either side of my head was important.  Okay, I’m glossing over the fact that when it was only on one tv, I tended to run to the side closest to it, causing myself to step off the tread more than once.  Cause I’m retarded.

I also only drove home during the commercial break, and then entered the house quietly and with my head turned to the right so I wouldn’t miss a minute of it.  Because our house is lame and we cannot make lives of our own, so we must live through those on tv.

In other news, to the night-jock on WZYP, who repeatedly announced the score of the “Tostitos BCS Bowl” (what, were they sponsoring your show that night?  No?  Then QUIT calling it that): the winning team was Florida, not Miami.  Low-tone.