(Photo by Geoff Stokes / flickr)

The family that I live with recently made some changes in their TV-viewing habits and there's just one thing I have to say about it.

Holy crap.

A few of you out there know what I'm talking about because once we switched - Uh-oh. You caught me. I'm writing about me again. - I started talking about this new service that we now buy from a major corporation that I will simply call Three Letters and an Ampersand.

Think about this for a second, and you'll get it.

Like I was saying. Once I started openly discussing our new TV capabilities it became apparent to me that this service provided by Three Letters and an Ampersand is kind of like the chicken dance at an Oktoberfest. Everybody's doing it.

Sure, there are some kinks. The technicians from Three Letters and an Ampersand have been to my house about 42 times. I even fed the first guy a bowl of chili. And I have to say I am happy about the availability of certain shows - like the old Lou Grant newspaper show that originally aired on Monday nights back in 1977.

Seriously, I think I might owe my entire career to Billie and Rossi and I particularly love how they always shared notes.

But there are certain viewing choices that are just a tad disturbing.

For example, the other day, while participating in channel surfing - a pastime that now soaks up about 89 percent of my free time - I stumbled upon a channel with an episode called "100 Orgasms a Day" and I sat there, wide-eyed, while a woman with this particular affliction wept before the cameras.

Sugar ants in the kitchen? That's a problem.

A hundred orgasms a day? I'm just not so sure.

We made this switch rather willy-nilly without a lot of research, so I will say this one thing: If you're buying the 450-channel package so you can get baseball from around the country - like it says you'll be able to do on the shiny Three Letters and an Ampersand literature - don't do it. All those stations are blacked out. But I'm saving up that disappointment for Consumer Reports.

For the most part, I am happy with my 450 channels, especially since we are a lazy, TV-watching family. In just a few short weeks I've watched The Proposal, Forget Paris, The Hangover, Whip It and Schindler's List. I never knew a woman could have this many mood swings from her chair. And to top it off, the Fitness Channel is fantastic -- especially for sleepless nights when you toss and turn and then finally move to the couch.

Back in the day when Americans had three stations - remember that? - this 450-option list would have seemed downright nutty. And it still does. But there's something beyond nutty when it comes to Three Letters and an Ampersand and the service they provide - and it didn't dawn on me until I was talking to a nice company representative about problems with my voice messaging system.

I think her accent might have been from Peoria, but I can't be sure.

I was having trouble with my land line. I couldn't get in there to see who had called. So, there she went, burrowing into my information.

"I can see that Suzy Wilkoff called at 9:20 this morning," she said, which kind of freaked me out.

With this new service, my whole life is dumped into some giant database at the offices of Three Letters and an Ampersand. These folks now provide me with my land line, my Internet, my television and my cellphone, which means they know everything.

Everything.

I'm hoping that nice gal from Peoria - Now that I think about it, maybe her accent was more East Coast than Midwest? - can call every Monday night to remind us to take out the trash.

Of course, you have to take the good with the bad. I'm sitting around too much. I'm obsessed with the notion that there might always be a better show one channel up. The crackle on an Internet phone can be infuriating.

And then there's the constant sense of missed opportunity.

Seriously. How is it possible to have 450 available channels, yet basically watch the same three shows I did before Three Letters and an Ampersand? Talk about about underachievement.