Bath time is over, wet towels dripping and the bathroom floor drowning in soapy puddles. Dirty clothes thrown around the room, not quite in, but close enough to the hamper. Stories read, songs sung, closet cleared of monster infestations. All tucked in, night light on and/or door cracked open letting in glow from the hall.
It’s grown up TV time for mom and dad.
Now the eternal question…who chooses what to watch? Who claims the remote of power? Which one of us get’s the con? Do we snuggle on the sofa with lovey dovey hug hug kissing shows? Do we cuddle on the couch bruising our psyches with intensely violent alien robots bent on world domination?
Let’s get ready to rumble!
Round One: Battlestar Galactica vs. Downton Abbey
I have to admit, originally I was very hesitant to watch the SciFi Channel reboot of Battlestar Galactica. I loved the cheesey original show when I was a kid in the seventies. Robots, spaceships and almost naked chicks running around with laser guns…what’s not to like?
Luckily for me NBC broadcast the new series pilot episode on one zoned out lazy Sunday afternoon. From the first minute it hooked me. Even cooler robots. More awesomer spaceships. Hotter chicks in even less clothing. Oh yeah, the story was pretty damn good too.
Shortly after this viewing and falling deeply, madly, obsessively in love with the show, we got cable and access to the SciFi channel. My main cause for happiness in this purchase at the time was of course Battlestar Galactica. I watched every single week without fail. That was my mandatory no kid, no honey-do list time. My wife, being the wonderful and understanding kind hearted human being that she is, allowed my selfishness with but one small caviat.. I must allow her to shovel me dose after dose of crap about it.
Wife – “You’re such a nerd.”
Me – “yup_
Wife – “I can’t believe you’re actually watching this crap.”
Me – “Yup”
Wife – “The girls I get, but robots? Really?”
Me – “Watch one episode with me. I bet you’ll like it. It’s really a great show.”
Wife – “Yeah. Whatever. Sure.”
Me – “Trust me.”
Wife – “Okay. But if I don’t like it, you never get to watch it anymore.”
Me – “Deal.”
The bet was on. Fortunately for me, my wife’s nerditude reaches relatively close to mine. Not only did she enjoy the show, she ended up liking it more than me. When we found them at Costco, we bought the box set DVD’s of every season. Each year she wants to watch the entire show from the very beginning again. I married the right girl.
Victory for Battlestar Galactica!
Oh. Wait. The tsunami of soap operaness that is Downton Abbey dribbled into our house one Sunday night a few years ago. I left my wife alone to weep and agonize over the period melodrama while I went in pursuit of more macho activities like surfing the net for cartoons and going to bed early.
Lifting a shovel full of dog turd in the backyard, a sweet voice called to me through yon screen door…
Wife – “Hey Bu? Want to watch with me?”
Me – “No thanks. Not my kind of thing.”
Wife – “Just watch one episode with me. I bet you’ll like it.”
Me – “Right. Sure.”
It seemed better than scooping puppy poop at the time. Yes it was a soap opera. Yes it was corny. Yes it was melodramatic. Yes it was a romance novel shoved down my throat with British accents and fancy costumes.
I loved every second of it.
alex kimmell is a former session musician from Los Angeles with a uniquely skewed view on the dark side of the world. His short fiction has appeared in publications by Black Lantern Press, Front Row Lit, The Wordcount Podcast among others and in 2012, Booktrope released his debut novel “the Key to everything. You can find more information about his writing and undiagnosed psychosis at www.alexkimmell.weebly.com