Yet I understood my chances of catching a glimpse of Stacy or Clinton were miniscule this week. The moment I walked in our bedroom and found Joe excitedly flipping back and forth between The Godfather and, to quote my husband, a program about sharks eating sh*t, I knew I was out of luck. Shark Week and Mob Week. Together. At the same time. Because television executives hate women.
It was like my husband had died and gone to a very very violent heaven.
|Buying shark photography is expensive.|
With Scarface, Donnie Brasco, and Goodfellas on the docket for AMC and dozens of shows about "sharks eating sh*t" on Discovery Channel, I felt certain this was not the business I had chosen. While we were still dating, Joe played along as though I would actually get to pick a program now and then. That pipe dream went out the window with all my former size 8 business suits.
I often have difficulty sleeping. That, coupled with the sounds of gunfights and shark attacks each night, has lead to some poor decision-making this week. Decisions that may well effect the entire world. Just as a butterfly that flaps its wings in China can cause a hurricane in Mexico, an over-tired Marianne is capable of starting her own ripple effect:
- Staunch refusal to do laundry = Decrease in Tide usage = Global economy diminished
- No laundered uniforms = Inability to take the boys to soccer = Forfeited game due to insufficient players = Angry 7 year olds who grow up and write computer viruses to get even with "the man"
- Irrational arguing with husband = Cranky husband who swears = Nothing too unusual there
I told my husband that after Shark Week and Mob Week are over, he will have had enough television to float his boat for the remainder of the year. It is my turn: Half Ton Mom. My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. Toddlers and Tiaras. Weird television...here I come!
I think I'm gonna need a bigger boat.