Breaking Friday Five Bad

I'm pretty much hating my best friends right now.

See, a week before Christmas, we had dinner. And during that dinner the four of us began discussing addictive television shows. The two of them were pretty amazed that the two of us had not even started "Breaking Bad"

"You see," She said, "It's one of those shows that starts this high, and you think to yourself it can't possibly go any higher, and then episode after episode it just keeps getting higher."

Now the reason we've stayed away is because we switched it on one evening and got introduced to the show with a very uncomfortable scene, which we tried to watch and then changed to something a little less icky. Life is icky enough when you actually think about it, so there's no real need to invite more.

But the stupid show has been pretty much universally acclaimed, especially by the people whose taste we trust most, and how can I possibly write a pop culture blog and not be able to make Pinkman jokes?

So as Fantasy Football wound down to its devastating conclusion, I decided queue it up.

Of course I blasted through four and a half seasons like they were warm butter and I was a hot knife, anyone who has seen the first episode wouldn't blink at such a colossal waste of time, but here's where I go a little insane:

Netflix doesn't stream the last eight episodes.

(Yet, and I say yet because by the time you read this it's very possible that monumental pressure would have been applied to make it happen, so you'll just have to imagine my frustration rather than actually feeling it.)

But, oh my god, what cruel fate has been laid upon my lap?

Could Blockbuster have not held out for just three more months?

But wait!

They're available on disk!

And I have movies still waiting to be sent back.

Which solves all of my problems except for one. And that problem is time.

I have two performances next week that I need to be prepared for and nothing booked for the next few months. If I want to make this grand experiment happen, I've got some serious rehearsing and promoting to do, along with quadrupling my efforts to get gigs. In fact, just about every step of my primary plan is months behind schedule. (Don't panic, that's how this work goes, I've got several tiers of planning because of it.) But I don't exactly have eight hours to blow.

So, today, there are eight episodes of Breaking Bad sitting in my mailbox. And like the junkie I am, I have no intention of letting them just sit there. So what if I'm drunk, might as well finish the bottle. But like a good intentioned junkie, I want to at least be relatively productive before popping the popcorn, fluffing the pillow and dimming the lights. So here are five things that absolutely must get done before I walk the green mile to the mailbox:

Rehearse:
I got two completely different style gigs. That means solid set lists and at least three hours of rehearsal for each.

Exercise:
I plan to mangle an entire dish of hot wings, cause if you're gonna binge man, binge. That's fourteen hundred calories or just about three one hour bike rides. Giddy up.

Mass Emails:
I've got a list of forty different venues on my desk right now just crying out for primary contact. I need forty more to meet my quota for the month. Ctrl C, Ctrl V, Ctrl C, Ctrl V.

Pitch a Song:
If ever I needed a piece of good luck, it would be a fair wind on the music licensing sea. It makes me nervous because the returning critiques always break my heart a bit (a lot), but it's a percentage game, and baby needs a new pair of shoes. Big money, no whammies!

Finish this blog:
aaaaaaaaaand DONE!