heavenly hell
When the nip in the air turns into downright frigidness in November, I don't mind so much because I know I can go home every night of the week and enjoy some damn good TV. No repeats. And even better than no repeats, it's sweeps, so the shows pull out all their stops. Guest stars. Plot twists.

And the best part? (Well, sometimes.) MOVIES OF THE WEEK! Or Movie Events. Whatever they're called.

I also have a bit of a fetish for natural disaster movies. A la Volcano, Bats, Dante's Peak. There's a long story there, but suffice it to say I make sure to watch every natural disaster movie that comes out. (Which, yes, has taken on a new slant ever since Katrina. And Wilma. But I digress.)

CBS has done me the lovely favor of merging the two in one. In a four hour extravaganza called Category 7. In actuality, it's a sequel to Category 6, which was one of the most god-awful movies ever, even in my twisted demented world where the cheesier the movie, the better. But somehow, the sequel, the spectre of laughing at inappropriate times, the cheese, the winds, the attempts at twanging my heartstrings ... oh I love November.

I am going to go home every night, turn on Barry White, light a few candles, pour me some Shiraz, and make sweet, sweet love to Tivo. Mmm, Tivo.