Okay. Let me explain. It was Thursday night and Eric was in Knoxville, teaching at the Tennessee Basketry Convention.
I had a half-a-glass of Pinot Grigio left and it was coming onto 11:00 pm. I was missing Mr. Basketmaker and simply was not tired enough to go to bed.
Yes, I had some freelance work to do, dishes in the sink and dirty clothes that needed washing, but I was lacking the ambition to do it! I felt like moping instead, so I planted myself on the couch where I searched the TV guide aimlessly for something to entertain me for at least an hour, or two, or maybe three.
So I settled on “Naked Dating” on VH1. What? Yes, you read me right. It’s people who agree to go on a show, to try and meet someone, but they have to meet them naked. And then go on two additional dates after that with different people. And yes, ALL are still completely naked.
It was lame. First of all, there’s nothing to see because they fuzz out all the taboo parts. And what kind of people would agree to do this type of show? And why the heck was I still watching it? I’d like to say that I changed the channel. But I didn’t. I wanted to see if the two original naked humans hooked up in the end!
To my credit, during a commercial, I did grab the remote after I located it entwined in my blanket under my right calf, and desperately look for something else so I wouldn’t embarrass myself. But I couldn’t help but wonder if Joe, the main naked guy, would stay interested in “Wee Wee” (Yes, that really was her name), the main naked gal, or be swayed by the hot, sexy bimbo —- , uh, I forgot her name and the third chick, who I also cannot remember the name of. But seriously, are we supposed to remember their names? So, I couldn’t ignore my deep desire to stay tuned and see if he cared more about personality than the other sexy bimbos —- (uh, still can’t remember their names).
Well, it turned out that Joe from New Jersey, actually valued personality over “hotness” and selected Wee Wee to be his final date. And they were able to wear clothes for the second date. Phew!
Alright, I’m done admitting that I watched that dumb show.
So onto the next dumb show. (Yes, I apparently have no problem humiliating myself on here). It’s called “Candidly Nicole” and it stars Nicole Richie. Who?
She’s the daughter of Nicole Richie and she did a reality show with some “Hilton” girl that I cannot seem to remember her first name. I’m thankful for that, because a few years ago, I could not wait until that Hilton girl is in her late twenties and becomes old news. I’m tired of hearing about her! Anyways, I think she finally turned 30 and we all know that after that, you’re nothing but “washed up.” (Just kidding!!)
But then, the replacement became the Kardashians. I don’t want to know anything about the Kardashians but it is very hard since they infiltrate into everything. I’ve even heard about them listening to plain ‘ole regular news! I have never watched one of their shows, but I know who they all are.
Anyways, back to the “Candidly Nicole” show. Initially, I did not know that it was Nicole Richie. On our DirectTV guide, the image above the show title had a peculiar woman with blue hair. And I thought, “Well, she looks rather interesting.” Anything could be better than the show I just watched, “Dating Naked.”
So I kept it on VH1, a channel I never watch, honestly, and I caught myself laughing. It was really funny. She was creating an online dating profile for a friend of hers. And I have to admit that I didn’t want to stop watching.
All I can say is, that if Eric and I had texting before we met, we would most likely not be married! This is crazy! She is manning her friend’s online dating profile pretending to be her and picking out her potential dates for her. So much deception! But that whole skit of her setting up her friend’s profile, and then filling in for her friend to go on the date and then breaking up with him was funny.
But then it wasn’t so entertaining. Approximately 25 minutes into the show, watching her try and learn how to parallel park at her father, Lionel Richie’s house, in a black Mercedes, in Beverly Hills, I was like, “what is wrong with me! What the heck am I wathcing?!” And then, I came to the conclusion I was just missing my Mr. Basketmaker.
Moral of the story? Don’t become a basketmaker’s wife. Otherwise, you will be home one night — scratch that, many nights —, while he is gone teaching a workshop, and you will unfortunately be home watching lame shows, like “Candidly Nicole” or “Dating Naked.”
All in the day of the life of a Basketmaker’s Wife.