This is Not an Interactive Medium
Telephone conversation with my mum:
Me: So did you get a chance to send up the package?
Mum: Oh, no. I forgot. I’ll send it tomorrow. I’ve put your beanbag in, too.
Dad (calling out in background): Why the hell are you posting his beanbag to him?
Mum: It was a Christmas present!
Dad: Oh, for crying out loud.
Mum: Shut up and watch the TV.
Me: Now I remember why I moved out.
Mum: You told me the other month you moved out because you met Adam!
Me: I d-
Mum: I’ve been reading up on being gay, you know.
Me: Well, t-
Mum: You know, you shouldn’t use your sexuality as a weapon.
Me: I’m not!
Dad: Can you keep the bloody noise down!
Mum: SHUT UP! I can barely hear with the TV so loud!
Me: What’s he watching?
Mum: Oh, I’ve got no idea. Some documentary crap on SBS, you know what he’s like.
Me: Yeah. (glancing over at my TV, which is muted and tuned to SBS)
Mum: It’s a load of crap, that is. (I don’t have to be present to know that she’s tapping my dad on the shoulder incessantly)
Dad: Piss off!
Mum: Turn the bloody telly down!
Dad: Look! Television is not an interactive medium! Be quiet!
Me: Why aren’t you on the other phone?
Mum: Why should I have to use the other phone up the other end of the house just because he wants to watch TV?
Me: Actually, TV is interactive now, with all these digital TV boxes and stuff.
Mum: Yes. Jeb just told me that you can get digital TV boxes and TV is interactive. So there.
Dad: How many times do I have to ASK YOU TO PIPE DOWN?
Mum: And what about Teletext? That’s been round for years!
Dad: My BLOODY LORD!
Mum: Look, I’ll… I’ll call you back.