Every couple months, our satellite provider dangles tasty bits of channel upgrades in front of our faces. Last month, we recorded a whole marathon of the delightful little Brit show, Top Gear.
You see, along with being a closeted hippie, I am also a raging gearhead. (Deep down inside, I'd rather be chilling at the Bonneville Salt Flats racing fast cars) It was a way to bond with my Dad, lounging around reading all his Car & Driver magazines. I love cars. And besides, Top Gear is just a great show in general. Who doesn't want to watch cranes swing hitch campers into each other? That's just good television!
The British aspect of the show- and watching nothing but the show for weeks- has crept into my everyday life. I'm saying things like "rubbish!" I've said both "boot" and "bonnet" when referring to an area of my vehicle. It's getting out of hand.
I also have a serious crush on Hammond. He's dreamy. (swoon!) .... sorry, love you too, honey!
I may just have to upgrade my programming just for Top Gear. Hats off to you, Satellite company for finding my one and only weakness: Top Gear.
It hurt, but I was able to get on with life without DogTown on Animal Planet. I kept on after I drooled over hours of Tori and Dean. (I know- stop laughing now) I resisted the urge to watch more twin pregnancies on Discovery Health.
But no. I need my Top Gear. I need my petrol fix. NOW.