The things I do because I love him

I’m still trying to redeem myself with John after having been so bitchy. John, being the sweetest husband alive, has already forgotten that I was bitchy and hasn’t asked even once for me to make it up to him. But my conscience keeps telling me that I was mean, so I have to be extra-special nice to him.

Yesterday I think I may have redeemed myself for any wrongdoings I’ve ever done in my life. I participated in an activity that I feel is wrong on so many levels. I put aside my squeamishness and did something with John that he’d always fantasized about. I still feel a little dirty.

I watched Deal or No Deal.

The Season Finale.

With…

Wait for it…

Special guest Celine Dion.

Oh, the humanity!!

I don’t think I can adequately express my hatred toward the game show Deal or No Deal. I hate it. Oh, I hate it bad. It makes me feel all angry and prickly inside. I end up yelling obscenities at the TV the entire time.

When a contestant is hemming and hawing about how tough it is, and they don’t know what case to pick, “maybe 17, or 3, oh, what to do, what to do!” I scream:
“JUST PICK A DAMN CASE, IT’S RANDOM! PICK A CASE, IT DOESN’T MATTER!”

When Howie Mandel is about to have the busty blonde open up the case after all the buildup of what case to pick and he says “Ok Candy, open the case…when we come back!” and points at the camera, I scream:
“HOWIE, YOU BASTARD, YOU RAT BASTARD!”

When the banker calls Howie, and he actually acts like he’s having a conversation about an offer, I scream:
“HE’S JUST TELLING HOWIE HOW GOOD HIS MOTHER WAS IN BED LAST NIGHT”

But last night I wanted to make my husband happy. Last night I offered to watch Deal or No Deal with him with minimal screaming, fully knowing that it was the season finale and Howie-no-hair-but-the-fluff-under-his-bottom-lip Mandel would stretch it as far as it could go and try to create some sort of suspense each time the show would break for Viagra ads. I knew they’d pick a contestant that would be annoyingly perky and indecisive about her case picking. What I did not know was that they’d pick Casey the perky school counselor who’d given the entire studio pink “Team Casey” towels to hold up. What I didn't know was that Casey's husband was so excited about his wife being on this stupid game show that he was in constant convulsions and all he could say was "I love you Casey" while looking like he was about to pee his pants. What I didn’t know was that they’d pick Casey, who despite her cute shoes, is a huge Celine Dion fan. I didn’t know that Howie would, on at least 3 occasions, ask Casey to serenade the banker with crappy Celine Dion songs a cappella. I did not know that they’d actually have Celine Dion participate in the show via satellite from her

Las Vegas

show.

By the end of the show I was exhausted from holding in all the snarky comments I could have been screaming at the TV. But it was worth it, John was happy, smiling and satisfied and really looked like he could use a cigarette. Sometimes, you just gotta take one for the team.