ahream

Most of the time my husband walks around with a look on his face like he’s contemplating Kierkegaard’s role in existentialist philosophies of doubt and faith.

Except, it turns out, when he’s watching “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”

The last time I’d seen this show it was hosted by the “Full House” guy, and I didn’t have a driver’s license. Who knew the damn thing was still on? How many videos of middle-aged men getting hit in the crotch with golf clubs can there be in this world?

Apparently enough to keep the show going since 1989. (Yes, I looked it up.)

My husband found this show several months ago, and our Sunday evenings haven’t been the same since. He lives for the cat videos. Cats falling off of televisions mostly. Sometimes windowsills. Occasionally a scared cat or a cat with a bag/box/underpants stuck on its head just for spice.

He watches the videos, and I watch him watching the videos.

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a grown man laugh until he hyperventilates. He has to sit quietly on the couch after the cat segments, taking deep slow breaths, which would be more effective if he didn’t keep giggling and shouting, “Did you see that? The cat – the cat fell and he – and he – ” This is usually the point when I bring out the paper bag, and he has to put his head between his knees.

This is – I assure you – much funnier than the cat with the underpants. Which leads me to wonder, if I taped this, could I win the $10,000, and if so, would my husband smother me in my sleep for the betrayal?

ahream Dispatches from the City of Angels I'm a mystery writer living in and writing about Los Angeles. You can catch my short story, "Running Venice," in the new anthology LAndmarked for Murder. Look for it in bookstores and on Amazon.com now. In the meantime, feel free to poke around. Over at my website you can find even more blog entries than I could fit here, as well as a few other ramblings. Enjoy and come back often.
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