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Showing posts with label PBS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PBS. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Is this an instrument of communication or torture?

Source
Before I became interested in watching IU basketball, I had the good sense to stay out of the room or at least occupy myself with other activities while MathMan sat glued to the television during sporting events. I cannot tell you the number of White Sox baseball games I've ironed through.

In fact, if you were to do a little window peeping while I do domestic duties while MathMan watched sports, you'd think you were looking at Ward and June Cleaver. If Ward and June got handsy with each other in front of Wally and the Beaver and seasoned their conversation with the occasional utterance of the word fuck.

Anyway, MathMan forgot that it's best to make oneself scarce while one's spouse is indulging in a bit of televised pleasure. And thus, that is how I ended up taking notes during the last episode of Season 2 of Downton Abbey. I'm hooked. MathMan was lukewarm, tepid, sorry he'd agreed to let me watch the program in the bedroom where he normally cloisters himself to watch whatever he wants on Sunday nights.

Disclaimer #1 Possible spoilers for the Christmas special aired on Sunday, February 19, 2012 so please don't read unless you want to risk it.


Disclaimer #2 Despite his use of the pejorative puss, MathMan is a relatively evolved man. I mean, it took me only two days to get him to understand the value of putting down the toilet seat. Besides that, I do believe he was sending me subliminal signals. Either he wanted to get some or he thought I should feed the cats. 

MM: I like her, too.
Me: Daisy, the maid? She's cute, isn't she?
MM: Yeah. She cleans, too.

MM: Who gets the ruby in the Christmas pudding? (Remark based on Hercule Poirot's The Theft of the Royal Ruby)

MM:  He's a douchebag. A huge douchebag. And the other guy's a puss.

MM: So what? Does Maggie Smith have a contract so that she's in everything made in England?

MM:  I think someone is going to punch him before it's over. (re: Sir Richard)

MM:  What are you doing?
Me: Taking notes of your commentary.
MM:  Oh, I see how it is.
Me: I don't think you do.

MM:  What's the point of watching this if it's going to be so predictable?

MM:  Which Sybil is pregnant? One, two, three, four, five or seven?

MM:  Is the stuffy guy (Sir Richard)  her fiance?
Me:  Yes.
MM: That's a dumbass move.

MM: Someone's going to get shot for sure.

MM:  She's not going to marry that clown.

MM:  Wasn't he part of some Monty Python skit?

MM:  I feel like this is an episode of Poirot without the murder. You know which one I'm talking about.
Me: The Mystery of Hunter's Lodge
MM:  I guess. Yeah, that's the one.

MM:  The only drama is if the pretty woman marries the dumbass.

MM:  Wasn't that on the Young Ones? Sir Something Old Fart? What was that? That's who Sir Richard is.
Me: Sir Boring Old Fart
MM:  That's it!

MM: He shouldn't have given her that dumb pussy speech in the graveyard because now he's feeling bad because now she's going to marry that dumbass.

MM:  (regarding Matthew) Now he's going to get in trouble with his mom.
Me:  For letting Mary go?
MM:  No. For being a puss.

Lady Mary:  It shall be hard.
MM:  It's not hard. It's easy. Just say,"Shut up and piss off."

MM:  Here's where he gets punched in the face.

MM:  (Re: Matthew) 'Cause he's going to get a punch in the face if he acts like a pussy again.

There's definitely a theme here. Let's unpack it, shall we? No, nevermind. I'm not qualified to delve that deeply into anyone's mind. The funny thing is, he's not a violent man so I don't know why he's so hellbent on predicting violence. It's obvious that he has little patience for melodrama and emotional games. I'm not surprised, of course, because he lives with me. Watching it on TV is a busman's holiday.

When I mentioned I thought there was time for them to declare Mr. Bates innocent, MathMan rolled his eyes. "They're going to leave you hanging on that one."

When the show ended without wrapping the Bates storyline, I whined. "Wah! I've got to wait months to know what happens to Mr. Bates. They have to tell us how Mrs. Bates really died. Was it murder or suicide?"

MathMan simply shook his head.

"But don't you want to know what happens?"

"I want to know if that guy's going to stop being a puss."

Oh, he's hooked.

What do you watch on TV as a compromise? What about Mrs. Bates? Murder or suicide? Who did it? What's going to get in the way of Mary and Matthew's wedding? Have we seen the last of the guy who claimed to be Patrick who allegedly drowned in the sinking of the Titanic? Will the Dowager Countess embrace the Jazz Age? Will Thomas and O'Brien ever stop scheming?

Monday, July 25, 2011

Dreams of a simple life with autotune

Photo: Lisa Golden, Minty Fresh

File under First World Problems.

I want to write a specific blog post but I can't because the relevant photos are on MathMan's computer because the school computer I'm borrowing won't let me add any programs like Picassa and I can't get to his computer right now because he's busy watching Star Trek on Netflix while he goes through boxes of math stuff before school starts again.

All said in one breath.


P.S. I finished The Beginners. It was okay. The Raquel character was annoying as shit. She reminded me of someone I know in real life who yammers incessantly because silence so pains her. I don't  think I'd like to meet her demons, y'all.

P.S.2.0  I may abandon Dandelion Wine for a bit. I picked up Lives Like Loaded Guns - Emily Dickinson and her Family's Feuds at the library and I seem to be in a New England kind of mood.

P.S. Jr. Drinking rum makes me have weird dreams. (See mint above. Lyra, we're on the same page vis a vis mojitos.)

And also, I keep thinking I should say something about the goings on in the world - Norway and such, but the truth is I am so despairing of it all. I know, such a delicate flower, right? But seriously, what can I add to the conversation except some expletives? I am, like susan, speechless.

The madness sallies forth and people want to know just how big are Nancy Pelosi's tits? aka my blog stats. I mean, really? This cutting taxes and deregulation experiment is supposed to be working miracles on our economy and going on two years and I can't find a job? I remain unconvinced, but then I am not of the ilk who sends their over-programmed, privileged children to camp in Maine to learn about the simple life. On private, chartered jets. Fear not, intrepid That's Whyers! I do believe this economy is working for some people.

No, my kids are living the dream in the 'hood with water balloon fights, fishing in the creek, snow cones from the Kona Ice guy and pick up ballgames. And some sorry sucker pays $10,000 for a few weeks for their kids to "experience summer?" How is it that if I'm so fucking clever I'm here and they are on private, chartered jets?

Okay, maybe not so speechless, but you guys know where I stand on most issues. Why repeat myself yet again?

I begin the week darkly. I hate being like this. I wish I could say that I hate feeling like this, but it's being. Right now, I'm like this. It permeates every cell.

My favorite quote from a TV show yesterday?

"I wouldn't wrap a dead dog in your gratitude."  - Aurelio Zen, Zen on PBS


Before you go, I have an idea and and I want your thoughts. I've decided I need autotune for which to yell at my kids. Yes? No? What's autotune?

Imma gonna go hug some kitties now. (If your answer above was What's autotune?, watch the video.)