Sarah and I climbed into bed and got cozy. We were all set to watch some TV. But then things went horribly wrong: We reached for the remote control at the same time. It wasn’t some cutesy simpatico moment like in that Disney cartoon movie “Lady and the Tramp” when the two dogs each grabbed the same noodle and it lead to a romantic kiss. Make no mistake; we are not courting each other. We’ve been married for seven years. The courting days are over. It was a Tuesday night at 9:27 pm and we were both straddling that very thin line between being extremely in love with your spouse and being highly annoyed with just about everything they do. Using my Kung-Fu grip, I took control of the remote. I pulled up the DVR menu to look at all the programs that our TiVo had recorded for us. As we scanned the list of our favorite shows, the recording schedule was a stark look into the male and female psyche. Alternating down the list was a whole series of Dude programs and Chick programs. My DVR was loaded with so much testosterone and estrogen the TV was practically a hermaphrodite. 

“Can we watch ‘Dancing with the Stars’?” Sarah asked.

“How bout we watch the newest episode of ‘The Deadliest Warrior’?” I countered.

“What in God’s name is that?” Sarah asked.

“It’s this show on Spike that pits warriors from different eras against each other and has them fight,” I told her. I punched a few buttons and pulled up an episode that featured a Ninja fighting a Spartan. We watched these two nerds in a science lab test Ninja and Spartan weapons on rubber dummies. They took a long Spartan spear and rammed it into the head of the dummy. Fake blood and membranes came flying out.

“Really? This is what you actually recorded?” Sarah asked. A few minutes later there was a reenactment of a Ninja fighting a Spartan. Two men dressed in authentic costumes went toe-to-toe and used an entire arsenal of ancient weapons on each other.

“We could watch an Apache Indian vs. a Galdiator. Or how about a Pirate vs. a Knight?” I offered. 

Sarah had enough of both me and my choice of television entertainment. The war of the roses had gone digital. “Can we watch something else?” She asked.

“Fine,” I said with a huff.

We watched an episode of “The Real Housewives of New York” that Sarah had recorded. I take that back. It wasn’t an actual episode. It was the reunion episode. The six women from the show sat on a stage and basically yelled at each other for an hour. This bug-eyed bitch snapped at some Countess who in-turn hissed at some pasty warlock.

After the episode finished, Sarah rolled over and went to sleep. As she slept peacefully beside me, I went back into the DVR menu and scanned my list of Dude Programs: Rescue Me, X-Men United, Dirty Jobs, The Wire, and several other episodes of The Deadliest Warrior. I punched up the episode of The Deadliest Warrior that featured a Pirate vs. a Knight.

About half way into the show, the host tested a morning star, a medieval spiked ball on a chain. To see the effect the mace would have when it struck a helmetless pirate, the host swung the morning star in the air and let it come crashing down on a dummy’s head. The back half of the skull came flying off.

“Oh, snap,” I chuckled loudly. Sarah rolled over and glanced at the TV. Plastic skull parts flew in slow motion across the screen. She looked at the clock, turned towards me, and gave me a look that told me I’d be in the dog house when I woke up in the morning.

I really didn’t mind, though. As long as I get cable in the dog house, it’s all good.