This is why I'm not allowed

...to watch TV late at night all alone.

Last night, Daniel came downstairs at 11:00pm, to find every light downstairs on, and me laying on the sofa in my pajamas watching VH1 Classic--it was a tribute to one hit wonders.

I was right in the middle of Taco's "Putting on the Ritz" when Daniel looked at the screen slightly confused.
Daniel: "What the heck are you watching?"
Me: "You know what, I may have peaked in the 80's, but for the rest of the country, it was a turbulent time."
Daniel: "Hmmm. Who is that?"
Me: (condescendingly) "That's Taco."
Daniel: "Uh huh."
Me: (still staring at the screen all glazed over) "Oh geez. There's a visual that will haunt my nightmares. I hate mannequins."
Daniel: "Uh, yeah, soooo...do you think you'll be coming to bed anytime soon?"
Me: "I don't know, I'm pretty involved here...sigh...a very turbulent and disturbing time..."
Daniel: "Oooookay." Deep self-pitying sigh. He proceed to vacuum the room while I didn't even remove my eyes from the screen and only moved enough to turn up the volume. When he was done, he left to go back upstairs.

Sure enough, I sat through like 6 more HORRIBLE music videos for songs I don't even like before Bobby McFerrin appeared onscreen and created a new low even I was unwilling to sink to and I finally got up.

I'm not proud of it, but after 4 years of marriage, Daniel should really know by now, to never ever, let me channel surf alone late at night when I'm bored. No good has ever come from it. Does he not remember the 3-month campaign I mounted for a Shark Steam Mop (unfulfilled, I might add)? Now I have nightmares about Taco and Buster Poindexter disco-ing the night away. No good at all. Someone should take my remote away after 10pm.