I’ve worked late a couple of nights this week, which is usually kind of a bummer. This time around I really haven’t minded, be-cause there is something I have been avoiding at home.
No, not a family argument or a messy house or anything silly like that.
It is much more serious than that. It is Shark Week.
I’m not a huge fan of Shark Week.
It’s not that I’m afraid of sharks. Well, I’ve actually never met one, so maybe I am. It’s probably different than noticing a mouse out of the corner of your eye and jumping a bit, even though you really aren’t afraid of them. Sharks are, well, full of teeth and occasionally eat people. And live in the water, where I tend to never hang out. All right. I am afraid of sharks.
But that isn’t why the Shark Week phenomenon isn’t a huge favorite of mine. Nope. It has less to do with the bloody water and gaping wounds and more to do with my inability not to make fun of the overly dramatized Shark Week shows. The men of the household, avid Shark Week fans, don’t appreciate my participation.
I have the same reaction to the show “Most Daring.” The overly dramatic announcer makes over dramatic statements, then they show the overly dramatic most shocking moment 17 times while the overly dramatic announcer makes overly dramatic puns.
Earlier this week, the men were watching a show about … you’ll never guess … people being attacked by sharks. They showed a guy that got bitten, then showed his wounds, how they healed, etc. This is a familiar theme during Shark Week. They get the people to recreate the scene, then show it in little bits and pieces around a lot of commercials. And all the promos play the “Jaws” theme.
So, we saw a guy get attacked by a shark. Then we saw another get attacked by a shark. Then we saw another guy attacked by a shark. For each, we got to see waves lapping against cameras, fake blood dripping in pristine water, before, during and after photos. You know, the usual Shark Week stuff.
Then they showed the story of a woman that got bitten. She literally got her butt bitten off. Weird, because there are probably people out there who would pay to have something remove a large portion of their butt.
She told of her experience — how she wasn’t going to go in the water because of the jellyfish, then decided to go in anyway, then how the shark had eaten her butt and she punched it repeatedly until it let her go.
Butt gone? I perked up.
“Let’s see her butt!” I said, enthusiastic about Shark Week suddenly.
Then the woman talked about having plastic surgery and getting a prosthetic butt. Now I really wanted to see it. Actually, at that point, Eric and Matt wanted to see her butt too.
The Shark Week people never showed her butt. No before, during and after photos. Well, they showed fake “during” footage, but it wasn’t her real bitten-off butt.
Boo, Shark Week.
Tonight I don’t have to worry about Shark Week. I have a fire department meeting, plus Eric left this morning to go racing. I rank higher than Matt in the Remote Control Chain of Command, so I can commandeer it when I get home from my meeting. No fishing shows, hunting shows or Shark Week. Yahoo!