Before I begin, there’s something you have to know, Gentle Reader, about my ever-loving spouse.

Petey watches television, especially movies, like no one I’ve ever met before.  Except for sporting events, he doesn’t schedule any viewing.  For my spouse, the only “Must See TV” is Duke versus anybody and all football. Lately though, because of pandemic-related issues, the pickings have been tragically slim. But he loves to watch it and has an uncanny ability to find televised contests.

Recently, I have walked in on him watching sheepdog trials from the Outer Hebrides, Mongolian wrestling, and flaming puck unicycle hockey from Saskatoon.  If there are scores recorded and folks yelling at the participants, he’s in.

I get the sports, though.  I have yelled at the screen during more than one episode of Ru Paul’s Drag Race, and you don’t want to be in the same zip code with me when I’m watching Britain’s Best Baker (OMG, Paul Hollywood’s eyes!).

But it’s Petey’s viewing habits of non-sporting television that still puzzle me after almost forty years of marriage.

The man is constitutionally unable to watch a movie on TV all the way through.  We’ll be sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, it’ll go to a commercial, and ZAP! He changes the channel.  The new show will be on for a bit, long enough for me to get interested.  I’ll wonder, “What’s the deal with the shoes?” or “Who is the guy with the rusty soup ladle?”

And ZAP!

It normally takes 17-39 showings of a movie before I’ve seen the whole thing, and even then, it’s like watching a film made by a director who just heard about the concept of flashbacks and can’t stop using them.  It’s jigsaw-vision.

When I joined Petey on the sofa today he was watching an X-Men movie—but of course, not for long.  So, I thought I’d share with you the things running through my head during this entertainment tsunami.

That mutant bad guy is wearing some sort of leather harness and what looks like a foam helmet.  How do these guys decide to wear this kind of thing?  And every single day?  Don’t they ever wake up and think, “It’s a snuggly sweater and boots day.”?  Or “I feel like a nice, bright Hawaiian shirt.”?

 And where do they procure these ridiculous getups? Do they make them themselves?  I can’t quite picture this dude squinting, trying to thread a needle… Do they have a guy?  Evil Mutant Uniforms Я Us?

Oh.

Alright…Wait, what?  Are they doing an interpretive dance in church? 

Oh.

OMG, I know he loves sports, but please don’t tell me this man is going to seriously watch a high school basketball game from 1978?  Is he really that desperate?  Good grief those shorts are short.  They look like they’re playing in bikini bottoms.

Oh.

 Oh look!  Ooh…It’s Robin Williams, I wonder what this is?   OMG!!!  Noooo!  It’s Hook!!!  Change it, for the love of all that’s holy, change it…

 Oh.

It’s…a musical.  Rock of Ages?  So, musicals.  What is the actual deal? How is it supposed to work?  Somebody just bursts into song, and suddenly there are all these random passersby in coordinating outfits, dancing a choreographed number?  Is it all in the singer’s head?  Does that mean every musical is a look at someone’s descent into madness?  Oh, I forgot Tom Cruise is in this.  What misguided casting director ever thought this was a good call?

“Thanks, Petey, but are you sure you don’t want the remote?  Ok, I guess I could find something to watch…”

Thanks for your time.

Contact me at d@bullcity.mom