I don’t know how much TV any of you watch. I would say I watch somewhere between plenty and too much. There are a handful of shows we record every week, and Jen and I usually sit down and watch them together. We both love CSI (there is only one CSI as far as I am concerned: the original), My Name is Earl & Scrubs, although this season Scrubs has left us scratching our heads a bit. Jen tends to space out (read: stamp or mess with her website) while I watch 24 or The Unit. When we remember to put it on Deal or No Deal, it usually runs in the background as I scream at the contestants for not making the correct percentage plays, while Jen contemplates the pros and cons of staying married to me.
I decided to give a new show a chance this season, a comedy called Rules of Engagement. It stars Patrick Warburton (eternally known as David Puddy from Seinfeld) among others. I liked the concept and dynamic of the show and its stars respectively, and through 4 episodes it hasn’t been deleted from my recording schedule yet. Hopefully it continues to improve.
(quick sidebar – I’ve learned to be a bit more patient with new shows when I at least like something about them. Go back sometime and watch the first season of Seinfeld, Friends or another show you love; the first few episodes - if not the whole first season - are almost always god-awful.)
In any case, the most recent episode of Rules picked up on a subject that I have long considered noteworthy, but have never seen addressed by any show or comedian. Granted, I don’t watch a whole lot of stand up comedy so more than likely someone has hit on it before.
At the beginning of the show, we have Puddy kicking back watching a Knicks’ game, only to have them lose at the buzzer. As any red-blooded American sports fan knows, if your team loses a heartbreaker, you are within your rights to be completely irrational the rest of the day (bad news for those Saturday morning football games). Shortly thereafter, his wife comes home with some good news about her job. Puddy offers sincere congratulations, but he is clearly distracted. He tries to correct that, but he doesn’t show enough enthusiasm to suit his wife (perhaps cartwheels and confetti would have worked) so naturally a little bickering ensues. It gets really heated when his wife realizes that once again a sports team has affected his mood, as it has regularly since they met.
Like most great men Puddy accepts the blame, realizing the folly of trying to argue his point. His penance: a night on the town.
When the big night arrives, his wife is frantically trying on everything article of clothing in the house looking for the evening’s proper attire. After modeling in front of the mirror in everything but last year’s Halloween costume, she declares herself hopelessly “bloated” and that he might as well go without her. More bickering as Puddy points out that, ironically, he is taking her out to make up for letting sports affect his mood, while she is about to ruin that very occasion due to the reflection in tonight’s mirror directly affecting her mood.
One word from the Guinness Draught scientists: Brilliant!
Every one of you reading (yes, I’m going with the sexism) has secretly despised your husband for letting some stupid sports game affect his mood. How can the outcome of a bunch of overpaid babies (or college kids) playing a child’s game really mean so much? I’m not here to explain why; I’m here to ask that you just accept this as normal and move on with your lives.
The fact is, men the world round long ago learned to live with your crazies, why can’t you just indulge us on a few of our own? We smile and nod when you ask our opinion on bedding for the guest room no one uses. We cringe to ourselves when every pseudo-special event (ie: company parties, a friend’s shower) requires you to purchase a completely new outfit that you will never wear again. Some of us even corral the kids and dogs so you can turn our home into a haven for crafting lunatics (aka: hosting Stamp Camp).
So please, the next time your husband wants to spend 6 hours chasing a little white ball around a golf course, make him a sandwich and say “Hit ‘em well”. Even though you know that next drink means he’ll have a rough time getting up in the morning, make sure you’re okay to drive or call for a cab. Most importantly, when you see his team getting beat, “helpful” comments like “Jeez, they’re really sucking today” are better left unsaid. They may very well be sucking, but your husband is the only one allowed to say it. This is not unlike the rule about kids: you can call your child rotten or spoiled if you want to, but nobody else can. To continue this analogy, his friends are also parents and you are the in-laws: well-meaning but aggravating.
Recovery from a sports loss only happens with time or in consultation with fellow commiserates (long distance phone calls are encouraged). As much as we wish you could help… we know you don’t really care about our team, you only care about us. That probably doesn’t make much sense, but neither does 17 pairs of black shoes.
Td
{smooches}
