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57 Channels And Nothing's On
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"What are you doing?" C.J. asked, as Toby picked up the remote control.
"Yankees are playing."
She propped the door open and laid her coat on the back of a chair. "Toby,
we're in Chicago. This is a beautiful city."
"Oversized town," he corrected her, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Some would say that this was an opportunity. Some would say that we should
go out and enjoy the chance to experience this city."
"Some would say that you ought to set the crack pipe down." Toby turned on
the television and started to flip channels. "Where's the game?"
C.J. flopped down next to him. "It's ten o'clock at night."
"They're playing in Seattle."
"New York. Against Seattle." She shook her head. "And they would show this
game in the Midwest because?"
"The Yankees," he informed her solemnly, "have nationwide appeal."
She burst out laughing. "You're such a chauvinist."
"You're not using that word properly." He glared at the television. "Why is
ESPN showing judo?"
"It has international appeal?" C.J. reached for her purse and rummaged in
it. "You know what I can do?"
"Go--"
"I can touch up my toenails."
Toby scoffed. "This is you taking advantage of opportunity?"
She took out the bottle of polish. "You should talk. You're watching MTV."
"I am not watching MTV, I'm looking for the game. Where's the game?"
"Don't you think this is a nice red?" She held the bottle up to the light.
He shrugged. "Who the hell cares? No one looks at your toenails."
"They might."
"Why?"
"If they were paying proper attention to my feet."
Toby glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "You're warped."
"You are." C.J. looked at the TV screen. "Hey, go back."
"The Home Shopping Network? You want to buy a necklace with cubic zirconia
and--" He squinted at the screen. "What the hell's a rubyrosa?"
"I have no idea. Back one more."
"This is not the Yankees game."
"Lifetime. Television for women."
"Television for women?" he repeated dubiously. "Stupid. You're a woman.
You turn on the television, bam, television for women."
"I know it's stupid, but nobody else shows 'Golden Girls'."
"We're watching 'Golden Girls'?"
"No," she explained patiently, dabbing at her left big toe. "This is
'Designing Women'. You can tell, 'cause they're all southern. And none of
them is Bea Arthur."
"That's not Bea Arthur?"
"That's Dixie Carter. Bea Arthur wishes she looked that good."
"You have all that memorized."
"I used to work in L.A., remember?" She shrugged. "I used to watch more TV.
I used to go to the movies a lot, too. I don't do that anymore. I used to
really enjoy settling down in a movie theater with a box of Sno-Caps--"
"Sno-Caps?"
"Not the point. The point is, I don't do that anymore. Even when I find the
time, I don't have a good time sitting through a movie. Why don't I do that
now?"
"You have better things to do now." He flipped through the channels, pausing
on CNN. "Your job is better. Your environment is better. Your days are
better. Reality offers you more than escapism. And movies are, at best, a
pale image of human experience."
She smiled wryly. "When are you going to write me a novel, Toby?"
"When Hell freezes over."
"Right."
"Where's the damn game?"
She screwed the top back on the nail polish. "Have you considered the
possibility that it might not be on?"
"Bite your tongue."
"Bite your what?" Josh asked, peeking in around the door.
"Toby's frustrated," C.J. explained.
Josh grinned wickedly and turned to yell over his shoulder. "Sam! Hurry up!
C.J.'s talking dirty!"
Toby glared at him. "I'm looking for the ball--"
Sam followed Josh into the room. "Sounds like Toby's the one talking dirty."
"Game. The baseball game." Toby tossed the remote in Sam's general
direction. "You do it."
"Why?"
"I'm tired of flipping channels. I'm deputizing you."
Sam sat down in the chair. Josh plonked himself on the floor in front of the
bed. "Is anything good on?"
"We're missing 'Designing Women'," C.J. informed him.
"That's got to be hard on you guys."
"What are you doing, anyway?" Toby demanded. "Shouldn't you be working on
something for Springfield?"
"We're procrastinating," Sam said.
"Like there's no tomorrow," Josh added.
"Or would that be procrastinating like there are several tomorrows?"
They contemplated this for a moment. C.J. broke the silence. "Do you guys
notice women's toenails?"
Josh looked up at her. "What, like, if they're polished?"
"Yeah."
"Not really. Sam?"
"I notice. But then, I'm a details guy." He watched the networks go by.
"Hey, we get QVC and the Home Shopping Channel, both."
"And we still don't know what a rubyrosa is," C.J. said.
"It sounds like the name of a Spanish hooker," Josh offered. "Hey, Sam, do
you have a friend named Ruby Rosa?"
He blushed. "That's not--"
"Stop, stop!" Josh interrupted.
"What?"
"'Baywatch'!"
C.J. groaned. "You can't seriously want to--"
"You watched Lifetime," Toby pointed out.
"Not to leer at Delta Burke."
"Thank God."
"Wow." Sam crossed the room and sat down on the floor beside Josh. "Wow."
"So which one is Pamela and which one is Lee?" Toby quipped.
Josh nudged C.J.'s knee. "Hey, C.J., how come you don't run like that?"
"Please don't make me have to cause you pain."
"Okay. But I have to tell you, I am definitely not looking at her toenails."
Toby reached down unexpectedly and snatched the remote from Sam. "Hey!"
"Yankees game," Toby said, hitting the channel button hard with his thumb.
"Yankees game, Yankees game, Yankees game."
"How can you not want to watch 'Baywatch'?" Josh wondered.
"Any game," Toby corrected himself. "I'm beyond being a partisan. I would
watch the Red Sox if they were on."
"I wouldn't mind it so much," C.J. mused, "if the women weren't always being
abducted and rescued by David Hasselhoff."
"It's Hasselhoff you object to, not the..." Sam gestured in the air.
"Bouncing?"
"Although actually 'Baywatch Nights' is the better show," Josh said. "If
you're a connoisseur."
"I object to the bouncing, too, but only because it's one-sided."
"Milwaukee. Toronto." Toby sighed. "Even the Mets."
Sam looked up at C.J. "Do you think one-sided was the best term to use
there?"
"You know, in retrospect, I really don't."
"A discerning viewer knows that 'Baywatch Nights' had the superior actors,"
Josh continued.
"Superior?" C.J. repeated.
"Angie Harmon."
"Angie Harmon is superior to what, a pointy stick?"
"I bet she has really nice toenails," Sam said helpfully.
Toby lowered the remote suddenly and stared at the screen in horror. "This
can't be happening."
"Hey, you found baseball," Josh observed.
"This is TBS," Toby said grimly.
"So?"
He looked nauseated. "It's the Atlanta Braves."
Josh groaned. C.J. blinked. "Aren't they supposed to be America's team?"
"Pamela Lee is America's sweetheart," Sam told her.
"I thought that was Julia Roberts."
"Okay, so Pamela Lee is America's lifeguard."
"The point is, the Braves suck," Josh declared. "Like a collapsed
supernova."
"Like a vampire," Toby agreed vehemently.
"Like root canal surgery," C.J. put in.
Josh nodded. "Like a Republican budget!"
"Like a bad episode of 'Designing Women'," Sam said. Everyone stared at him.
He shrugged apologetically. "All the best similes were taken."
"I can't believe I'm sinking this low," Toby grumbled.
"At least you have us to go down with you," C.J. said.
"Should we leave you two alone?" Josh chuckled. She kicked his shoulder
lightly. "Ow. You're dangerous. Keep those shovels away from me."
"My feet are not that big," she protested. "Are they?"
"Your feet are fine," Sam assured her.
"You really think so? Maybe I shouldn't paint the nails. Maybe that just
calls attention to--"
"C.J." Toby rested a hand gently on her knee. "Your feet are fine."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You're America's sweetheart. Now be quiet, for God's sake."
"Okay." C.J. smiled and leaned back on her elbows. "Let's watch the game."
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