tv with tom

Tom spends a lot of his downtime watching TV. I’ve spent a lot of time watching Tom watch TV. For my money, the latter is way more entertaining.

There is, first of all, the sports. Tom grew up in a family that considers the watching of televised sports to be legitimate family time, and I respect that. But what amuses me is his utter lack of discretion when it comes to the “sports” he will watch on TV. Two weeks ago I found him sprawled on a shag rug, lazily scratching his stomach, eyes glued to what looked to my untrained eye like roller derby, except on skis, down the side of a mountain. Tom caught me observing, and practically shrieked in excitement. “LOOK, LOOK!! Yoona, you have to watch this–they call this a SPORT!!” I have no idea how much of the Red Bull Games he ended up watching, but given that it was a Saturday, it could have been anywhere from 4 to 7 hours.

As for basketball, soccer, and football–Tom watches all the games and DVRs the highlights, both for his repeated viewing and my future delectation. So it is that I’ve been forced to sit through approximately five hundred 10-second snippets of soccer goals, all devoid of context, each of which look identical to one another. For the record, I’ve only seen one goal in my life that looked any different from the rest, and that’s this goal from the 2002 Champions League Final. And I’m pretty sure I only remember that goal because I am obsessed with Zidane. In any event, Tom’s commitment to watching sports on TV is truly awesome to behold.

Particularly given all the other shows he has to fit into his schedule. In some cultures, Sundays are for God. Tom goes to church on Sundays alright, except his church is called the Church of HBO, and the congregation meets at 9:00 PM. Weeknights are for DVDs of defunct series that are no longer on TV (e.g. The Wire), because the options currently available on Comcast are simply not enough. And before you comment on how awesome The Wire is, be assured that Tom will watch entire seasons of bad shows, not just good ones. In 2007 he Netflix-ed the entire run of Magnum P.I. and spent three months watching high-value episodes like my personal favorite, Ep. 3: “China Doll.”

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Of course, reality shows are a vital part of Tom’s TV mix. And he doesn’t just watch, he feels. He talks to himself when he’s watching American Idol, and cries during Extreme Makeover Home Edition. I don’t care if this is sexist: I prefer my man to be, you know, manly. And simply put, it’s not hot when I come downstairs and Tom’s talking to the TV, shouting singing advice to an Idol contestant. Or worse, when he mutters to himself about the Idol contestant (e.g. “She’s so Broadway!”). As for EMHE–that show, while it was on, would regularly reduce Tom to a shambles. It is no exaggeration to say that I’ve never seen Tom watch an episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition without it ending with him sobbing like a little girl.

Lastly, there’s the “news.” On any given weeknight around 10:00, Tom’s in front of the TV, marking up a brief and watching Dateline. Observe your husband watching enough TV about guys killing their wives, and you start to get nervous. I remarked on it once in jest, and this was his chilling, unfunny response: “I’d never kill you, because I’d get caught.” Not “I’d never kill you because I love you,” or “I’d never kill you because that’s INSANE.” No. Because he’d GET CAUGHT.

Please remember to mention this blog post to the authorities if I ever go missing. And now, I have to go watch Tom watch some TV.