Desperate Housewives
As the days get longer, it’s gotten so that we eat supper around 7 p.m., sometimes earlier, often later.
It’s the only time we watch TV, the local and national news from 6 to 7 p.m., which we record.
We watch the recording as we eat, although if it’s 6:45 and the news isn’t finished, we watch the end live.
So often we begin watching our recorded news after the 7 o’clock program has begun, in this case “Entertainment Tonight.”
The misadventures of Britney and Lindsay Lohan and Paris and Brad Pitt.
A TV version of the supermarket tabloids: “Hillary preggers by alien; Jesus returns, and boy is he mad!”
Sometimes our supper lasts after 8 p.m., into the network feed: Wife-Swap or Dancing with Boobies. (“Too bad she couldn’t finish her dress!”)
The other night it was “Desperate Housewives.” Apparently “Desperate Housewives,” probably reruns, got moved to an 8 p.m. weekday time-slot.
Some shrew was noisily excoriating her doting husband, who was confused.
“Do you think you can do that?!” she hisses.
“For heaven sake,” I observed; “I never hear talk like that, and I ain’t Adonis.”
“Well, it wasn’t Ted,” shrew tells the other desperate housewives. “Ted has a tattoo on his back, and this guy didn’t. I’ve seen him at the pool.”
Desperate housewives all knowingly glance at one another.
There were girls like the shrew I was interested in at college, but I filtered them out.
“That does it! I’m leaving!” shrew screams at doting husband, angrily tossing her clothes into an flimsy old open suitcase.
She stumbles on the long dark staircase to the second floor, and tumbles head-over-heels all the way to the bottom, ending up out cold. (I’ve fallen lots of times, but never ended up unconscious.)
Doting husband, terrified and confused, calls 9-1-1.
Why is it the husbands are all kindly, doting gentlemen confused by their screaming housewives?
I specifically avoided girls like that, no matter how sexually attractive or pretty they were (I could name names).
I was more interested in the long haul. I even “Dear Johned” a really nice girl because we were on different wave-lengths, and I could foresee trouble.
It’s the only time we watch TV, the local and national news from 6 to 7 p.m., which we record.
We watch the recording as we eat, although if it’s 6:45 and the news isn’t finished, we watch the end live.
So often we begin watching our recorded news after the 7 o’clock program has begun, in this case “Entertainment Tonight.”
The misadventures of Britney and Lindsay Lohan and Paris and Brad Pitt.
A TV version of the supermarket tabloids: “Hillary preggers by alien; Jesus returns, and boy is he mad!”
Sometimes our supper lasts after 8 p.m., into the network feed: Wife-Swap or Dancing with Boobies. (“Too bad she couldn’t finish her dress!”)
The other night it was “Desperate Housewives.” Apparently “Desperate Housewives,” probably reruns, got moved to an 8 p.m. weekday time-slot.
Some shrew was noisily excoriating her doting husband, who was confused.
“Do you think you can do that?!” she hisses.
“For heaven sake,” I observed; “I never hear talk like that, and I ain’t Adonis.”
“Well, it wasn’t Ted,” shrew tells the other desperate housewives. “Ted has a tattoo on his back, and this guy didn’t. I’ve seen him at the pool.”
Desperate housewives all knowingly glance at one another.
There were girls like the shrew I was interested in at college, but I filtered them out.
“That does it! I’m leaving!” shrew screams at doting husband, angrily tossing her clothes into an flimsy old open suitcase.
She stumbles on the long dark staircase to the second floor, and tumbles head-over-heels all the way to the bottom, ending up out cold. (I’ve fallen lots of times, but never ended up unconscious.)
Doting husband, terrified and confused, calls 9-1-1.
Why is it the husbands are all kindly, doting gentlemen confused by their screaming housewives?
I specifically avoided girls like that, no matter how sexually attractive or pretty they were (I could name names).
I was more interested in the long haul. I even “Dear Johned” a really nice girl because we were on different wave-lengths, and I could foresee trouble.
posted by BobbaLew at 6:56 AM
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