I just bought a new T.V. It was an unusual choice, given that I don’t watch T.V. and recently canceled our cable subscription on account of not watching T.V. But still. NEW T.V.!

Doug and I have been watching T.V. nonstop the past two weeks. Or more accurately, Doug has been watching Deadwood nonstop and has re-named our T.V. the “Deadwood Machine.”

I don’t like Deadwood, mostly because I don’t like shows that don’t have bright colors or clothing I can relate to. The colors are so dim and the clothing so unrelatable, in fact, that the show somehow ceases to register on my radar at all and I don’t realize that it’s on and that Doug isn’t just staring at a blank box, so I sit down next to him and proceed to tell him every important detail of my day.

“This morning I was wondering which of the 90’s pop stars have gotten fat,” I’ll say as he stares at the empty black box. “So I Google image searched each of their names along with the word fat. Did you know that Jessica Simpson got fat? And Lil’ Kim? Britney got a little flabby for a while, but kept it together overall.”

“Julia,” he says. “It might not register to you that I’m watching a show, but it registers to me.”

“Ugh,” I say, suddenly noticing that there is, in fact, loud vulgar shouting emanating from our Deadwood Machine. That’s the other thing I don’t like about Deadwood: every other word is “fuck,” and every other phrase is, “Your dropped eye looks like the hood on a cunt, cock-sucker.”

“Great,” I said tonight after one dimly-colored, unrelatably-dressed cowboy told another to go get a fucking haircut because it looked like his mother fucked a monkey. “The f-word has officially lost all meaning to me. You happy?”

“Join the fucking club of the rest of us,” Doug said, quoting Deadwood, with a sly cowboy smirk.