every time i watch television, i flip channels.  when i lived at home and my dad had the remote, he would do this, and i hated it.  i hated the way he changed the channel when i was trying to watch something.  i hated that he had all the spanish-language channels programmed in because of the hot chicks.  i hated the way he would mute the volume during commercials, leaving us staring at melting hot pizzas and lip-synching spokesmodels in silence.  mostly, i hated that he would channel-surf so fast it was impossible to tell what was even on.

every time i watch television, i flip channels.  i flip from channel to channel to other channel, stopping briefly when there’s something without a commercial, and then flipping.  when i like what’s on, i try to relax, telling myself that, hey, i like what’s on, there’s no need to look for something else.  but then, without taking my eyes from the tv, i put down the peanut butter.  my hand fumbles for the remote.  my fingers fumble for the button.  flip. maybe there’s something better. flip. funnier. flip. more original. flip. something that won’t make me wish i could get up off the couch and do something else.

i can’t ever find it.