So The Wife is now a bonafied spy show action junky (why doesn't spell check believe in "junkies"?) after just 2 seasons of Burn Notice. Who knew? I dropped the first disc of this guilty pleasure man-tertainment in our netflix cue so that it would arrive just as she was leaving to visit family. Expecting she would never want to watch a show centered around blowing the crap out of stuff.
She came back, I was still on my marathon and she became addicted... Then it happened.
6:44pm, November 11th, 2010:
Me: Hey there's a third season of Burn Notice.
The Wife: REALLY? Holy crapstick OMG. Push that shizz to the top of the cue right now! Screw Life!
I should explain that I've listened to roughly 2,473 hours of animated explanations why we must watch National Geographic's mini series "Life". Every single minute. Of all four discs. I love animals and wildery stuff, but recently we've watched IMAX: Under The Sea, Shark Week, Blue Planet: films 1,2 and 3, Oceans, Earth, Babies, and a couple hundred other nature movies that I can't remember the titles of.
She likes her nature docs.
But today is a momentous occasion. Today is the day that The Wife abandoned her love of little baby penguins, narwhals, and awesome flying lizards, for a bunch of stuff getting blown up.
Addendum: Some lizards and narwhals are badass. Like Jack Bauer.
It should also be noted that although wifeyface is not one to generally like gore or action for the sake of action movies, she is by no means a "chick flick" chick. I think she hates them more than I do. "They should call them Stupid chick flicks. Just for stupid chicks. Not me."
Update: The wife has proofed this post and offered the following review. "Oooh exaggeration-husband" I think she means how I drastically increase the level of propriety in her vocabulary. I can't write what she actually says. It'd make your eyeballs sting.