After a very fun weekend of dragging the kids through furniture and appliance stores and, more importantly, NOT house-hunting, Craig and I decided to wind things down Sunday night with a bucket of popcorn and the Netflix library at our disposal.
Deciding which movie to watch is a bit of challenge since I am light, fluffy and solidly in the chick flick corner and Craig hangs more with the cerebral, complicated, not necessarily happy-ending crowd.
Pride and Prejudice vs. Saving Private Ryan pretty much sums it up.
Though sometimes he throws in Nacho Libre just to send me over the edge.
We have learned to navigate our differences mainly by vacating the room when the other one is watching something they like but last night he said I could pick what I wanted and I selected a movie that I’d never seen solely based on the fact that it had Mark Consuelos in it
because I’m shallow and we started watching it and within 10 minutes I was ready to move on because I had already recognized every cliché and knew how it was going to turn out and I should have turned it off and not wasted my time but knowing that the alternative pick would go to Craig and might involve Larry the Cable Guy, I cut off my nose to spite my face soldiered on.
Craig, however, didn’t waste the opportunity to lob in a few wisecracks.
“Hey, hon, can you pass the Ritz? I think this next part’s going to be really cheesy.”
And, “Boys, you know what this movie is about? It’s all about banking credits. Lots and lots of credits.”
He’ll be here all night folks. Try the veal.
When the movie ended, poorly (how can you end a chick flick without a kiss between the main characters?), my beloved turned to me with a wicked grin and nary a word.
Pass the popcorn, friends. That one’s gonna’ cost me.
Have a nice day.