I hate Thursdays
Bjorn made a comment the other day at SKB’s that: I hate that show (Friends) but Daisy-Mae had it on the other night.
I think this is a source of conflict for most 20 to 30 something couples. See, every 20 to 30 year-old with a penis can’t stand the show. Women, for whatever reason, love it. Probably because the show used to advertise itself as just like your friends. No, my friends go to work, provide for their livelihood, and are generally engaging people. I mean, do these people ever spend time at work? When they show them at work, they’re never actually working. They’re always hanging out at an apartment or a coffee shop. My wife apparently thinks they are just like her friends, whom I’ve obviously never met. And what’s with the way they talk? Apparently, every sentence they speak must contain one of the following words or phrases: Like, Sooo, Sooo Not, All XXX And Stuff (as in like All crazy and stuff).
Here’s the typical Thursday night at the SayUncle household:
Mrs.: Friends comes on in five minutes.
Me: So?
Mrs: That show is Soooooo funny (doing a Chandler impression). Are you gonna watch it with me?
Me: That show hasn’t been funny in, like, six years (counters with a Chandler impression, though her’s is, like, Soooo much better and stuff). And I’d rather gouge my own eyes out with a spoon than watch it.
Mrs: That show’s always funny.
Me: Seriously, honey, that show has not made me laugh in a long time. I mean, when are these 30 something year-olds gonna stop having roommates, get real jobs, stop hanging around in a coffee shop engaging in sappy dialect intended to be witty, and just generally become productive members of society?
Mrs: Most of them have real jobs now and only two of them are currently roommates. They’re maturing.
Me: By maturing, do you mean getting to the point where it will no longer be the basis for a show?
Mrs: No, they’ve signed on for another season.
Me: Goddamnit! Will it ever end? So do they still act like all neurotic and stuff?
Mrs: Yes, Rachel has really been getting on my nerves lately. Why doesn’t she . . .
Me: You realize everything you said after Why doesn’t she I interpreted as Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, and I started pondering what I would do for next thirty minutes while you watch that Sooo not funny show.
Mrs: You never listen.
Me: Not when you’re talking about Friends. That’s one of those things you should involve your friends in and not your husband.
Mrs: Show’s coming on.
Me: I’m off to play violent video games for thirty minutes.
Maybe me and Bjorn should plan on meeting at a strip club every Thursday at 8:00, or something. That or I’ll loan him Hitman 2.
