Netflix, the video streaming service that has all of the best movies from 10+ years ago, officially owns and controls every part of my body, including the soul itself.

After I created the Netaflixia term back in April, which happened to become Word Of The Day on Urban Dictionary, I’ve come to realize just how much I myself suffer from this fatal disease. I have spent hours upon hours using this video streaming service on my Wii U and PS3, and spend well over 100 hours on Netflix via the Wii U (only device with trackable usage thing) and likely 10+ additional hours on my PC and PS3 each and every month, for which the later I am using right now to watch an episode of Bones. (pausing it to write this post)


But why exactly am I obsessed with this service? Honestly, I blame aliens. If not for their rapid abductions when I was a child, and their possible use of painful (yet oddly pleasant) anal probes and other such torture devices, I’d probably be watching a rerun of a 1990’s The Simpson’s episode on FOX right about now, and wouldn’t even bat an eye towards the almighty Net-of-flix.


And yet, here I am. Pausing a television show that is being streamed to me via a node on the world wide web.
Now, I shall end this post so I can get back to my show. So kindly piss off, and read something else for a while. 🙂