OK. So it’s not the birth of Whoorlito, but oh oh OH, so very important.
My husband agreed to get DVR for our Direct TV. People, this is monumental. MONUMENTAL.
I have listened to you all sing the praises of Tivo for years now, secretly hoping I would be able to join the DVR family. I would casually bring up the subject here and there, only to hear a swift, resounding NOOOOOOOOO come forth from my husband’s lips. And I was fine with it- we really don’t watch that much television anyway and it was probably for the best.
You see, my husband didn’t own a television set when we first started dating. Not a one. Which frankly caught me off guard seeing that he was/is a huge sports fan. Now, it’s debatable which of us is a bigger sports nut, but I knew the no-TV thing was going to have to change if we were going to move forward. I mean, how could we possibly watch all of the college football, NFL, college basketball and March Madness (not to mention golf! love watching golf!) without a damn television set? Sports bars? Friends’ houses? No thank you.
Well, I won the battle rather quickly considering the first weekend we spent together was the OU-Texas football game in Dallas (where he lived at the time) and we didn’t have tickets. I do believe the first 24 hours of our long-distance relationship was spent buying a TV set.
Whoorl – 1
D – 0
Eventually, when we moved to Chicago and merged our belongings, we owned a whopping TWO television sets. Holy hell, I thought he was going to keel over. But it was our move out here to California that really shocked me. Not only did we buy a flat-screen television, but we purchased Direct TV with (DUN DUN DUUUN) NFL Sunday Ticket. My prayers had been answered.
Every. Single. NFL. Game. At. My. Fingertips.
I still quiver at the thought.
My point? Well, I thought the well had run dry. Here is a man who went from NO television to several of them- including a big grey satellite dish screwed into the side of his home. He was done. Finito. No mas.
I don’t know what changed his mind, my sweet persuasion (complete with pregnancy glow!) or my intermittent nagging.
Come to think of it, the mind-changing might have occurred when I mentioned something to the effect of, “I WILL be breast-feeding every 2-3 hours in the middle of the night and BY GOD if I don’t have something good to watch, guess whose ass will be dragged out of bed to entertain me?”
Yeah, that might have been the turning point.
It certainly wasn’t when I flailed my over-dramatic ass on the bed yesterday crying, “HOW CAN THERE BE TRUE HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD WHEN ONE CAN’T WATCH BOTH SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE AND ROCKSTAR:SUPERNOVA? (sniff, sniff, sob, sob) WHY IS LIFE SO UNFAIR?”
Well, whatever I did worked. Happy days.