Testimonials - T

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Hello, my name is Tim, and I am a Whoser. My wife and I have been fans of Wliia for a number of years whenever we got the chance to see it.And now that it is on ...well I'd say 7 or 8 times a week, you could say I'm addicted, I freely admit this and that is why I joined this therapy group which meets every night and all it costs me is internet time.Can you believe it?For $9.99 a month I get free on line help.Thanks... I'm feeling better now.

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Hello, my name is Tricia (aka McShaniac), and I'm a Whoserphiliac. I never intended to become a junkie. "Oh, that'll never happen to me" I said. Now, instead of track marks, I have indentations in my fingertips from rewinding the countless tapes I have of the show. Instead of crack pipes and angel dust I have cable splicers and VHS cleaning solution. Sure, I started out small. A six pack of tapes to get me through a season, I thought. But the more I watched the more I had to have. Pretty soon I was up to a twelve pack of VHS a day to feed my Whose hunger. I started catching myself saying things like: "Never put stickytape on hairy places" and "My contract weeth El Dorado eez not yet fini." Others around me began suspecting something was not right. I tried to hide it, but I couldn't. I had to have it. I even started smuggling tapes to work with me. Thats how I lost my job in the slinky factory. One quality control slip-up and now some lady is maimed for life.

Then one day my mom caught me in the bathroom with the television. Maybe the cord underneath the door was a cry for help. "Why, why are you doing this to yourself?" she asked. Still in denial I tried to cover by replying; "Jeez, can't a person power saw in peace?!" A week later, the power went off in my apartment. I didn't realize that I had spent all my money on videos and not paid the electric bill. Suddenly I found myself hooking my bicycle up to my toaster trying to generate enough static electricity to play the tapes. Call it withdrawal if you like, but just when I thought I saw a glimpse of Greg's face in the toaster I tripped on something, and whomped my head on the table. Thats when I realized that I had a problem. What I had tripped over was my dog, Twiglet. I forgot to feed him one too many times and his last resort was to eat one of the videos. Only the tape he ate was mostly of John Sessions, and he couldn't shake it off. One bad trip too many. That should have taught me to stay away from the stuff...but I was out of control.

I used to say; "I can stop whenever I want." But now I know I am a slave to my addiction. I will forever be in recovery. I have relapsed seven times, been in and out of WLiiAA (Whose Line is is Anyway Anonymous) and to this day cannot pass a toaster without twitching. I have night sweats, and reoccurring dreams of Tony chasing me around in stilettos a pinafore. My condition has even triggered a rare and insidious case of halitosis, which is indeed the "state of my existence." My family is pushing for the "Wayne Brady Act" which would prohibit buying a VCR for seven days until a thorough background check can be done. I have lost my dog, my home, and my toaster because of this madness. Now I live in the cardboard box my 'puter came in. I guess my grandmother really was right when she said; "There are just too many nuts, and not enough squirrels." Too bad I had to shoot her with a squeezie bottle when she insulted Ryan's nose.

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