Nine more days until my third book is due. And instead of sticking to my “I’m going to watch TV vs. read” idea—didn’t work. I can’t just go straight to bed. I’m in the habit of reading. But if I read, I have to finish the book, and that means I won’t be writing. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle. Like coloring your hair.

But I’m climbing back on the wagon I fell off of, and I’m not going to read anymore fiction until my deadline is past. Seriously. And I will be hunting down this show to be sure.

Honey: We’re Killing the Kids is one of those shows that sucks you in, and when it’s over you think, “I can’t believe I watched that.” Like Walker Texas Ranger.

So the basic premise is that this family has a diet/health coach and they’re all going to eat better and lose some weight—especially the kids, one who is obese—Twinkie Kid. But Twinkie Kid just steals the show. So the coach goes through the house and forces the family to throw out allll the bad stuff. But mom knows her little darlings probably have a secret stash. Sure enough this younger son, who is probably about ten, does indeed have some food stored away. When they finally find his stash in the laundry room (cause what kid would be in there? Genius!) and take away his last remaining Twinkie, he starts BAWLING. Am I the only one who relates to this moment? And they have to pry the unopened Twinkie from his mouth. As they’re grabbing it, the kid’s trying to eat it through the package. Because we all know if you can work a hole in that package, the Twinkie will squeeze out. Um…at least I know that. Anyway…

So at dinner mom makes vegetable risotto.
Twinkie Kid says, “I don’t want that crap. It tastes like dog doo-doo.”
“Oh, really? When was the last time you ate dog doo-doo?” asks a smirking dad.
“Last week.”

Now Twinkie Kid just does not give a rip about the show or eating healthy. He’s an amazing, convincing liar. And an accomplished puker. He PUKES on command! And in his thick southern accent he uses the word “crap” like an artist with paint. He provides lots of moments where you think Mom is just gonna lay into him, but she doesn’t.

The family is just a little bit country, and a little bit weird. As I mentioned, Twinkie Kid has VERY sensitive gag reflexes (They even send their camera crew into the school bathroom with him. I’d be using the word “crap” and telling people I ate dog poop too.)

But Mom finds she must celebrate the little things, as her family is not on board. After the vegetable risotto dinner (“This is crap!), she cleans up the table and says, ‘I didn’t have to clean up no puke. I’m so excited!”

You have to tune into this show. Then there will be two of us in the country watching it.

Back to my deadline and watching the summer hours tick by—in no particular order.
Next time: Keith Urban and having to evacuate the hotel. Good times.
Happy Belated Fourth!