So there we were. Harry and I, all alone on a Sunday afternoon. And by “alone” I clearly mean “by ourselves because the teenager was playing a rousing game of Call of Duty and was in the game room with the door closed and had not communicated with us for at least an hour except for a quick snack break where he inhaled the entire contents of the fridge in 2.5 seconds.”
Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah. There we were, all alone on a Sunday afternoon, wondering what to do. So of course, we did the completely romantic, oh-my-you-still-have-the-magic-even-after-all-these-years thing that married couples do.
We turned on the TV and argued over what to watch.
Now, it was very close. I mean, all those channels from DIRECTV and we were immediately able to narrow it down to two shows. A Steven Hawking special and Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo. And being the intelligent, dynamic couple that we are, of course we chose Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo.
Ok, fine. We chose that because I had the remote and wouldn’t give it to Harry.
I immediately loved it. This is because of my intense love/ hate relationship with reality TV. Real Housewives? Love them. Duck Dynasty? Oh yeah, I love them and their redneck swimming pool. Ice and Coco? Hello? Cutest couple ever. Bridezillas? Yeah, not so much. I’ve been a bridesmaid for several bridezillas and frankly, watching that show brings on unpleasant flashbacks.
Anyway, I’d never seen Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo before, but I’d heard that Honey Boo-Boo was from a show called Toddlers and Tiaras. Sadly, I only watched Toddlers and Tiaras once. That’s because I instantly hated with the passion of a thousand fiery suns.
Good Lord, it’s awful. The one time I suffered through it, some little girl named MacKenzie or McKayla or something with 400 pounds of hair on her tiny head and the entire contents of the local makeup counter on her face spent 30 minutes whining about her neenee, which turns out to be a pacifier. I swear to you, the only thing that kept me tuned in was the fact that my only other viewing choice was Bridezillas.
But it was like watching the outer circle of Hell on TV. ß Hey, see that? I got it from Downton Abbey. Yeah, I don’t just watch trash on TV. Well, mostly I do. But not always.
Anyway, after a small scuffle involving the remote, we sat down to watch Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo. Omigod. Is that family just hilarious or what? It was the Christmas show and so cute. The only thing I didn’t get was the fact that everything they said was captioned.
Hm. Am I the only person on the planet who understands every word the Honey Boo-Boo family speaks?
Apparently I am. I asked Harry if he could understand the Boo-Boo family – but he was busy trying to dig the remote out from underneath my butt on the couch so he could catch the end of the Steven Hawking thing. He watched for a second and said “No. Now give me the remote before my IQ plummets to 0.” This was followed by the statement, “You know none of the stuff you watch is reality, right?”
Well, I was kind of shocked – not about the reality comment, because honestly? I know it’s not real. I just secretly hope it might be. But I was shocked because usually I don’t understand accents at all. If you have the slightest accent, I am guaranteed to ask you to repeat yourself several thousand times. I have to rewind Downton Abbey at least four times every episode to understand some pithy comment the Dowager Countess says. I spent all 8 Harry Potter movies praying to remember the dialogue from the books so I could understand what Ron said. (In my defense, I think Ron mumbles.)
Of course, once I got over the shock, I enjoyed Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo even with the distracting and unnecessary captions. But the very best of all was when Mama June explains the Christmas Eve Santa-Time Conundrum to little Honey Boo-Boo. Hello? It was totally just like we had watch the Steven Hawking thing.
See? I don’t always watch trash TV.Add me to your rss reader | Become a Fan on Facebook!