This past weekend was one dedicated to relaxation. It’s been long needed and long coming, and I just needed to not do anything. I was supposed to do that last weekend, and some might think I did, but that weekend was spent recovering from the failed attempts at de-stressing. Ok, failed is not the right word. Not getting immediate relief is a fault of my own expectations, fine, put the blame back on me, then we’re back to square one on that whole stress thing. But, last weekend was the deep tissue massage that rendered me less relaxed than recovering from pain. Sure, baby steps, but I just hadn’t expected them to be literal.
So this weekend was the relaxation weekend. It started with a double dose of stress dessert, which was the exact motivation I needed to flop around and do nothing. On the crescent of deciding between depressive state, where it’s enough to just lie in the house and get irritated by the sound of the tree branches on the roof but not irritated enough to really care, or get up to deaden the noise, or relaxation of lying around watching Weekend TV marathons.I chose TV. I chose those because I knew every hour I’d be given the opportunity to choose again, so why limit my options.
Weekend TV marathons are an interesting mix. You can watch the House Hunters International, but they get boring after a while. Sure, there’s always a couple you know you’ll likely see on Dr. Phil or something later one and those are fun to watch. But they quickly get into annoying territory when watched in a row. You either get sick of the awful taste and naivete of these snowbirds, or the outright disgust at how you’ll never amount to anything and get that vacation home in Thailand. So no, I’ll skip that one. Then there are the Bridal Show ones. Those are funny, where they’re looking for the dresses. People, you look the same in each one and your families are horrible. Good thing you got yourself a new family because those would make you consider having a CASH bar at your wedding.
So I end up at the tried and tue fall backs. House and Criminal Minds. House you can’t take more than 3 in a row. Don’t get me wrong, I love that show. The acting is great, and there’s always a plethora of new diseases in every episode you can decide you have based on the symptoms, but the same damn storyline every time is annoying after 3. And for some reason you can’t see 4 without coming across one you just saw last weekend.
So Criminal Minds it was. I could watch those for hours. Also very predictable, but with good acting and the right balance of brooding and socially inept characters to make you feel just good enough about yourself before they prove they’re way smarter than you ever could be, even before you killed off all those brain cells in college doing what you do in college when you’re not cramming for an exam. It’s a good show to keep your ego in check. Pumps you up on your social skills, knocks you down on your intelligence and how imperceptive you are, and then lo and behold, reminds you you’re not an evil serial killer or psychopath. They find a way to make normal, middle of the road desirable. (Real Housewives shows do that too, by taking rich, thin, successful people and pointing out how crappy their lives are and how awful their “real” friends are to them. That is more than oddly comforting. I like the NY and NJ ones, partly because they’re not as blond, mainly because they have more cojones than the guys on the other shows. )
But back to Criminal Minds. I adore Mandy Patinkin. I always have. Even in that show, on the reruns, I still see him as Inigo Montoya. I keep waiting for him to say “You keeled ma fader, prepare to die.” That or break into a torch song in a night club. Just knowing he might is enough. On the other hand I’ve always hated the actor who was also on Chicago Hope. He’s the perfect guy for that role, a distant arrogant jerk with little or no personality, and yet still conveys emotions, to some degree. But still, I don’t like him. The boy genius is adorable, until he stops being so and you realize he’s not a boy, he’s an adult wearing boy size sweaters and doesn’t know that’s bizarre because his computer-like artificially intelligent brain doesn’t compute that one tidbit of social relevance. Genius misfits. I like these people.
I do have to admit though, I think there should be a limit on the number of episodes they include in a marathon. It’s kinda of strange after a while. I think after 4 it stops being an escape and becomes more instructional. Here’s a tip, if you find yourself taking notes, it’s probably time to switch over to the Real Housewives, or better yet, home shopping channels. As least then you can get reminded you’re so much better than average when watching the cotton poly blend of geniune machine embroidered appliques of beach umbrellas on your choice of teal, sunshine yellow, or what we like to call, Bahama Breeze pink stretch pants. I LOVE flex-pay!