My wife and I recently took advantage of a much-needed getaway weekend, and we did what most couples do when they ditch the kids and the pets and the chores and find themselves alone in a hotel room: we watched a movie.
We watched Bad Moms, which is old, like us, but the timing was appropriate because my wife is planning to go see the sequel this week, even though I feel the original was completely unworthy of sequeldom, given that I laughed three times, which is approximately 21 seconds of laughing out of 101 minutes, a laugh-to-minute ratio of 0.00034:1.
Also, the sequel is called A Bad Moms Christmas, and while I see what they’re doing there, the absence of an apostrophe – Mom’s – is so grammatically itchy that I feel it should be inciting Last Temptation of Christ-caliber protests nationwide.
My wife is not so hung up on punctuation, so she feels comfortable going to see the new movie with a bunch of other moms, which suggests this franchise is designed to hold them over until the next installment of Fifty Shades of Magic Mike. Unlike those movies, which are about chests, the Moms series is about empowerment, but with cramp jokes.
My wife is not a bad mom. She’s a good mom, a very good mom. She’s a busy mom, though. She’s so busy that she’s only up to Season 4 in “A Game of Thrones” and was consequently shocked to learn via a joke (a “joke”) in Bad Moms that Jon Snow dies in Season 5. “But he’s good looking,” she said, dumbfounded.
A more insecure husband (like the feckless ones depicted in Bad Moms and pretty much all modern comedies) might have been hurt by that remark and blurted out, “Oh yeah? Well, guess what? He comes back to life in Season 6!” But I didn’t. My only hope for her is that A Bad Mom[’]s Christmas doesn’t ruin “Outlander.” Also: I need to start working out.
I didn’t even feel bad when the only “good dad” in the movie – the “hot widower” – took his shirt off as a million women across the land go “GOI-YOI-YOI-YOING!!!” (even though you never see this supposed good dad interact with an actual child, and he clearly spends too much time at the gym).
You know why? Because I had climbed a mountain that day. Well, a ski hill. But a really difficult ski hill, because we took a wrong turn and ended up hiking a steep black-diamond trail in snow and winter boots and me in my heavy, fake Canada Goose coat leaking feathers across the Green Mountains and smelling like an unhealthy dog because I threw it in the washing machine, which you’re not supposed to do, so serves me right, and I had to stop a lot to catch my breath and wonder a lot about heart attacks and whether the oxygen was getting thinner, was my hair getting thinner, and did anyone else smell burnt toast?
But I made it to the top and in doing so passed two young girls, also lost, who should have been in better shape than me — ergo, I was in better shape than them — and I’m fairly confident this fact made me look good in front of my wife, although it was hard to tell since I had left her far behind, but she was fine, I’m pretty sure, as I could deduce when I waved at her and she gave me a thumbs up. At least, I think it was her thumb.
It was good to get away with my wife, because now she is going to be even busier. Earlier this month, she was elected to municipal council here in Stanstead. She received 65% of the vote, which is a lot. Nonetheless, it leads me to wonder what the problem was with the other 35%. Attention, remaining 35%: I don’t know why you didn’t vote for my wife, but I will look for you, I will find you, and I will stare uncomfortably at you.
I’m so proud of my wife for making this commitment, even though it means she will be even more busy, which translates into fewer getaways and mountains to climb, although maybe that mountain is a metaphor: we each have our own mountain to climb (she, her municipal duties; me, unruly punctuation), or maybe it’s a mountain of a marriage we have to manage together, or perhaps it’s the mountain of dishes we face when we come home to our 16-year-old.
Ultimately, what’s important is that we not waste time watching sub-par movies and especially their undeserved sequels. But, hey, it’s her life.
Some riffs and paragraphs here that distend out like snake abdomen. My favorite the one with the fake goose coat. But what’s got into you? Not to sound too surprised, I shouldn’t be. Have you been working out?
Other than a general dissatisfaction with everything I write these days, not much.
Buck up, buttercup.
Consider me bucked.
Consider me cupped
suggested amendment to the photo caption:
“Councillor of Town, Queen of Mountain, Counsellor of the Deranged, Patience of a Saint”
I left the extra “L” in those words because I know you Canadians are extravagant in such things, and because you’re generous with your humour.
I very much enjoyed your metaphor climbing.
Thanks, goode sir. When do you make your big move?
I’m here! My brain’s a little overloaded right now, week nights I just eat dinner and go to bed.
I see there was smoke in them rumours about a Murray for town hall.
Yes, but honestly when I was playing that little game, she hadn’t yet breathed a word she was interested. So pretty funny how that came about.
congrats to the queen of the mountain and congrats to you(s) on still being alive.
Every day is a gift (underwear and socks).
I highly recommend that your wife finish watching the Game of Thrones. That way, when she finally ascends to her rightful place on the Iron Throne… I mean, Stainless Steel Ergonomic Chair, she’ll be ready to take on the treacherous chambers and intrigue-filled hallways of the municipal council.
And those disloyal 35% must be dealt with swiftly.
Now that you mention it, there is a correlation between her watching GOT and her sudden political ambitions.
A nice tribute to your wife. Congrats to her on the win!
She’s gonna do good!
If I recall from watching the DVD with my dear wife Karen (yeah, we did) perhaps the missing apostrophe on the sequel should land at Bad Moms’ Christmas, Ross? The whole dang parenting crew was as awful as your prize political spouse is terrific.
They have to drop the article (“A”). A Bad Copyrighter’s Mistake.
You are not the target audience for those movies, sir. Years ago, I went to the taping of Jon Stewart’s show. The comedy bit was “working titles of movies.” At that time, there was a movie out called “Boys on the Side.” A chick flick with Mary Louise Parker. Stewart said the working title was, “Boys on the Side of Their Girlfriends Who Dragged Them to This Movie.” Get it?
My bride and I also went to the movies last week. We saw Thor! Rarrrrwwrr!
That’s a nice pic. Good work, Ross.
I like the pic too, even if her eyes are closed. It looks like bliss but it’s just bright.
Pingback: House decorations should be like me: simple and old | Drinking Tips for Teens