I got something strange, unexpected and surprisingly awesome for Christmas - addiction to watching a show online.
Yup, I'm talking about the archived webcasts of the Muskrat Falls filibuster.
OK, OK, just joking.
I'm really talking about "The Walking Dead," the AMC program about a sheriff's deputy who wakes up from a coma to find the world gone to H.E. Double Hockey Sticks.
This strange disease has created a world full of flesh-eating zombies who travel in herds, and survivors who go through tragic and selfish lengths not to get bitten.
It's a far, far cry from what I regularly watch - "Coronation Street," a show where people drink twice a day and eventually end up sleeping with each other - so it's not something I thought I'd like.
But I can't get enough of it.
In the past two weeks, I've watched all of seasons 1 and 2 on Netflix and began downloading this season's episodes off iTunes, with the hope of starting to watch it on TV when this season resumes in February.
Nothing says Happy Holidays like zombies!
I haven't been this hyped about a show since "Happy Days," a period of my life when I got in a lot of trouble with a teacher for signing a test "The Fonz" and nothing else.
"OK," the teacher said, waving said test in front of the Grade 2 class. "There's one paper left. And since Stephen Bartlett is the only one who didn't get one back, he must be the one who signed his name 'The Fonz.' Stephen, would you mind taking your regular place in the corner?"
I can thank my Facebook friends for putting me in this new corner, for igniting the addiction to "The Walking Dead."
Their constant posts about "Walking's" wickedness prompted me to check it out.
I never had a clue about the premise going in and I wasn't sure after realizing it was about zombies, but I stuck with it, and I'm really, really glad.
It's highly entertaining, at times riveting, TV.
And it's not because of the zombies. It's because of the depths the living sink to not to become zombies.
At least once during each episode, I find myself wondering how I'd react if faced with the same circumstance, as outlandish as that circumstance is.
To me, that's what a good TV show does. It makes you think and question things. (Granted "Happy Days" never did that, except the time Pinky Tuscadero wouldn't marry Fonzie unless he took her surname.)
As for the actual zombies, they're a grand bit of fun.
The show's producers effectively keep the gore to a minimum, and there's nothing that's sleep-with-one-eye-open frightening.
The make-up is basic Harbour Haunt-like stuff, and the blood spilled is generally a black colour to keep it from being too disturbing.
In fact, on Saturday night, in a flight of absolute geekiness while swilling a beer, I thought about how freakin' cool it'd be to act as zombie on "The Walking Dead." Yes, a 44-year-old man can still daydream like a kid. I mean, you just know those zombie extras are having an absolute blast on the set.
I imagined what I'd look like - pale bald spot, favourite plaid shirt and black jeans in tatters, and mouth frothing like I craved a feed of Ches's.
I also pictured how I'd move - very slowly, with a breathing pattern that sounded like your father cagged off and snoring in his favourite recliner.
Saturday's evening daydream night was followed by Sunday morning's nightmare, however.
I woke up and realized that's how I already look, move and sound.
Guess that brings a whole new meaning to reality TV.
What's your geeky confession? Email Steve Bartlett at firstname.lastname@example.org or send a tweet to @SteveBartlett_