Licence and Registration, Please
Well, it's the first day of March and, paradoxically, the weather forecast is calling for a bit of a cold spell, with frost overnight--the perfect excuse for a night at home, digging into our bounty of Parisian chocolate. And just how do I know that valuable piece of meteorological information? Why, the television, of course! It's been a week with our new friend and we haven't really watched very much, except for the news. But tonight, I flipped through channels while Bob used the computer and I happened on a very strange game show, er, "quiz" show that I instantly dismissed as insipid, only to thoroughly get into it (Bob didn't find it amusing). It really is silly, but somehow a quiz show that rewards contestants for quickly being able to locate a certain product (vinegar, for example) in a supermarket aisle is an endearing one in my books. Then, completely without trying, I stumbled across the next episode of "my" show--a silly reality show, of which there seem to be as many here as in North America--Masterchef, your pretty standard ordinary-people-compete-for-a-chance-to-become-a-professional-chef show:
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