The Night The Snow Fell

The snow continued to fall throughout the night, and me, being on a somewhat psuedo-vacation from from work and thinking, decided not to read, exercise or pretend like I cared about anything. Instead, I watched bad television, and occasionally glimpsed out the window, which was partially obscured from view by the accumulating snow and gusts of wind.

Of course, on the other 364 days during the year, I can find something entertaining or somewhat educational to watch on television. But tonight, when I urgently wanted nothing more than to turn off my brain and allow three-feet of snow to fall, nothing was on.

I drifted from show to show, ultimately settling on the syndicated version of HBO’s “Entourage.” It was the same story told throughout the show’s existence: actor has a problem, friends line up to squash problem, many phone calls are made, actors walk approximately two and a half miles each episode while on said phone calls. And at the end of the show’s 22 minutes, they relax, drinking Budweiser on a couch.

It was around this time that I got up from the couch, again looked out the window at the accumulating snow, and penned a haiku in my head about the show I had just watched.

It went a little like this:

If I had money
My friends and I would not be
Drinking Budweiser

The snow was still falling, and somewhere, possibly in a alternate dimension, Ari Gold and Vincent Chase were still walking, and talking, and trying to solve problems that most normal people could only wish for, while drinking Budweiser beer.

So I went to bed, and dreamt of warmer days, and better beer.