Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Makes Perfect Sense

Well, then. I seem to have discovered that the way I react to stress is to voluntarily pile on additional stresses by choice, apparently in an effort to trick my brain into believing that it's called FUN! not ugh. And I really am having fun, that's the odd thing, and I'm not really THAT busy, which I know because I somehow found the time to watch Dancing With the Stars the other night. Except...wait. NO I DIDN'T. Because it was "bumped" from the DVR by RAW and Two and a Half Men. And probably TNA wrestling. I can't ever remember which night that is on. Speaking of which, has anyone else - all four of you who know what TNA is - ever thought it was odd that they decided to name a tough-guy wrestling show "T-N-A"? Tits and ass? What the fuck, TNA? That's super confusing to me because Gray will be all, "Hey, do you mind if I watch some TNA?" and I'm like, "GO FOR IT!" because while he's distracted by porn I can sneak down to the basement and make out with my bottle of vodka that I keep hidden in the dryer because he never looks there. Everyone knows that porn is the most distracting of distractants, probably because of all the animal noises and definitely because of the nipples, and he won't be able to tell if I'm drunk again on a work night or if I'm just like that all the time and he never really thought about it before. He'll be too busy watching TNA to remember. But then I hear a bunch of Nickelback songs coming from the TV and I realize he means TNA wrestling, and I'm all, "Oh man! Can't you just watch some PORN already?" because isn't it better if your fiance wants to look at a bunch of naked women than if he wants to watch a bunch of guys in spandex wiggle around to Nickelback? I think it's better, not only because of the homoerotic implications, but also because after he watches porn, he wants to get laid, but after he watches wrestling, he wants to spend the next hour reenacting the Undertaker's entrance and trying to pin me to the bed for a three-count and he won't let me go to sleep until he beats me for the Pretend Bedroom World Heavyweight title, but I can't just LET him win even when I want to because it turns out that pulling your shoulder up at the last second is kind of a reflex.