I admit it: I loved Tori and Dean: Inn Love. And I fully intend to love the new season of the Tori and Dean reality show, in which they move back to Hollywood. I missed the last couple of episodes of season 2, so I'm catching up this morning as E! screens them in preparation for Tuesday's debut of the new season. I'm the sort of person is always willing to believe that most subjects of reality shows are being relatively authentic inasmuch someone can be authentic with cameras everywhere and knowing a million people might watch them, unless they send up immediate red flags (getting naked on night one in the house or something). So I like it that Tori seems like she's a pretty normal person, given how batshit crazy it seems like her parents are/were -- like, her dad wouldn't even fly so she never got to go on family vacations as a child except to Las Vegas, and yet, there was a bowling alley in her house. So good times. And I like it that she went to the Mommy and Me exercise class and made an effort to get to know some of the other women in the town. And I like it that Tori and Dean wanted to make french fries. Like, they're not afraid to actually work for a living. Not that acting isn't work, but you know what I mean.
We celebrated our two-year anniversary this week. It was actually on Thursday, and we decided to go out for the fancy celebratory dinner Friday night in order to play in a trivia tournament worth $1,000 to the winning team on Thursday. That didn't work out so well. Unfortunately, it seems that Sex Panther becomes Sux Panther under any kind of pressure. My personal excuse for failing to perform is that it was just too goddamn loud in the bar, and I couldn't focus. Plus I was starving, and it took an hour for our dinner to arrive after Rob went and waited in a line for 15 minutes to order it. So an hour and 15 minutes for dinner. That's nuts. My blood sugar had long since plummeted to the danger zone by then, and the food almost didn't help make me feel better. And we tanked. By missing some questions we should have known the answers to.
But our fancy dinner Friday night was lovely. We went to Chianti and drank Prosecco and ate pasta. There was nutella involved in my dessert and that makes me happy.
So, I'm sitting here channel surfing now that the Tori and Dean show is over, and there is nothing on. We actually have around 500 channels, and I swear to you, there is nothing on. I told Rob a few weeks ago when Comcast suckered us into adding Starz and HBO to our package that there would never be anything on either of those channels again that we would actually want to watch. And I was right. I mean, The Cotton Club? Is that the best you can do, Starz? Come on!
Wedding plans... wedding plans are moving along. Most of the major stuff is done. Yesterday we went to the giant liquor store and shopped for beer. My mother wants us to serve Coors Light to our guests; I'm horrified by the mere suggestion. Sorry, but Rob and I don't even drink Coors Light. Why would we actually serve it to our wedding guests? It's like, "Thanks for taking time out of your busy life to fly a thousand miles to attend our wedding. Here's a really shitty beer for your trouble." Our beer drinking friends would probably never hang out with us at a bar again -- "Sorry, we can't be seen with you in public. You might order a Coors Light and embarrass us."
And of course, since it involved shopping on a Saturday afternoon when there are other people around, Rob was completely traumatized by the whole thing. I even made my mom drive so that Rob wouldn't have to navigate the whole Wal-Mart mess right near the giant liquor store. But he was still traumatized by it. We ate lunch in the restaurant at the giant liquor store and it was very quiet in there and only one other table had customers, and he hardly spoke for the first fifteen minutes of sitting there. Then, just when he had perked back up, we dragged him over to Wal Mart to get some groceries. When my mom and I go to Wal Mart, we are On A Mission. We do not fuck around. We go in, we get what we need, we leave. When we go together, we are even more On A Mission. We separated when we got to the grocery area so as to be more efficient, and I think this puzzled Rob. At one point, we passed my mother as she was heading one direction and we were heading for produce; we were on such A Mission that we did not even acknowledge one another's existence. I think this puzzled Rob. He was like, "There's your mom," and I was like, "Find the green onions." Because we would be seeing her again in 10 minutes. We were riding home in her car. Why the hell would I pause and say hello to her in the store?
I made the mistake of sending him off to find a thing he needed by himself, while I waited in line at the "express" checkout lane (I had produce, so I was not capable of utilizing one of the 986 self checkout lanes). He didn't make it back before I got to the front of the line, so I decided to just pay and have him wait in line when he got there for his one item; the line was moving relatively quickly by then, so I felt it would be all right. But the whole time (three minutes) he was waiting in line, he had this look on his face like I'd just killed his new puppy or something. It was very pathetic. There is nothing you can do at this point to make him feel better except actually leave Wal Mart, which obviously we did as soon as our purchases were made. And then he still needed an hour or two to decompress.
So that's how I torture Rob -- drag him into Super Wal Mart on a Saturday afternoon. Good times. I can't wait to see how he reacts to Disney World this December!