The other night, I was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner and Kevin was flipping through the channels to see if there was anything interesting on. Unfortunately for me, he was flipping through just in time to catch sight of a man who was able to throw playing cards hard enough to cut bananas in half with them. Considering that Kevin pretty much adores Maximum Exposure, none of us should be surprised that this immediately caught his attention. (Sometimes my husband is such a stereotypical male it makes me laugh.)
Anyway, when I joined him in the living room, he was not giving up control of the remote, nor was he acknowledging the fact that dude, I did not want to watch some random guy cut fruit in half with playing cards. The yo-yo guys that followed were mildly interesting but still. The whole thing was so very pointless and strange that at one point I felt my eyebrows transforming into the Powerful Eybrows of Doom (a la Sam Waterston) in an attempt to get him to change the channel. What was he making me watch?
Master of Champions. The most POINTLESS SHOW EVER.
People with useless talents (see above card throwing guy) go on the show to compete against other pointlessly talented people (urban gymnastics? lowrider cartwheels? yo-yoing while suspended from the ceiling? what the fuck?). Some no-name host who looks JUST LIKE a Ken doll goes on and on about how awesome they all are, and then they get judged. Judged by who, you ask? Drunk-ass Oksana Baiul, wacky Johnny Moseley, and an overly tanned Steve Garvey. They skipped right over the D-list and hit the H-list, I think. So the judges pick their favorite from each pair of competitors, leaving three finalists. And then the panel picks the "Master of Champions" out of those three. The host hands the winner a glass panel thing with their name on it, and the winner sticks the panel on the "Wall of Champions".
And that's it. No finals at the end of the season, no money or trips or anything won, just a lame plaque on a soundstage wall that will get torn down when this shitty show gets cancelled. THAT'S THE ENTIRE SHOW. And Kevin made me watch over 30 minutes of it. Instead of The Office, I had to watch that shit.
I've demanded that he somehow repay me that 30 minutes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We have not one, but three new computers on their way to us from the insurance company. In an odd twist, we're ending up with a brand new $1200 laptop to replace the junker ThinkPad that Nate gave us as well as two desktops with better specs than our old computers. So hey, we're actually coming out of this ahead. Kind of. Wackiness.
And with that, I'm out.
Anyway, when I joined him in the living room, he was not giving up control of the remote, nor was he acknowledging the fact that dude, I did not want to watch some random guy cut fruit in half with playing cards. The yo-yo guys that followed were mildly interesting but still. The whole thing was so very pointless and strange that at one point I felt my eyebrows transforming into the Powerful Eybrows of Doom (a la Sam Waterston) in an attempt to get him to change the channel. What was he making me watch?
Master of Champions. The most POINTLESS SHOW EVER.
People with useless talents (see above card throwing guy) go on the show to compete against other pointlessly talented people (urban gymnastics? lowrider cartwheels? yo-yoing while suspended from the ceiling? what the fuck?). Some no-name host who looks JUST LIKE a Ken doll goes on and on about how awesome they all are, and then they get judged. Judged by who, you ask? Drunk-ass Oksana Baiul, wacky Johnny Moseley, and an overly tanned Steve Garvey. They skipped right over the D-list and hit the H-list, I think. So the judges pick their favorite from each pair of competitors, leaving three finalists. And then the panel picks the "Master of Champions" out of those three. The host hands the winner a glass panel thing with their name on it, and the winner sticks the panel on the "Wall of Champions".
And that's it. No finals at the end of the season, no money or trips or anything won, just a lame plaque on a soundstage wall that will get torn down when this shitty show gets cancelled. THAT'S THE ENTIRE SHOW. And Kevin made me watch over 30 minutes of it. Instead of The Office, I had to watch that shit.
I've demanded that he somehow repay me that 30 minutes.
We have not one, but three new computers on their way to us from the insurance company. In an odd twist, we're ending up with a brand new $1200 laptop to replace the junker ThinkPad that Nate gave us as well as two desktops with better specs than our old computers. So hey, we're actually coming out of this ahead. Kind of. Wackiness.
And with that, I'm out.
3 Comments:
Hey, you control the remote 95% of the time and never seem to realize that Amanda Bynes makes my teeth itch and Patricia Arquette is just a really, really poor actress, so if I indulge myself and watch a guy who's like a ninja with a bicycle deck, I don't wanna hear it. :) Oh, and Plllbbbbtttt. :P
But you usually aren't even paying attention to the TV! And at least those shows have a POINT. Which Master of Champions DOES NOT. So there.
This is exactly why I need my own TV no matter where I live.
Master of Champions? Seriously?
Hmm. I'm staying out of this one.
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