Friday, October 10, 2008

The simplicity of men.

I don't often write about my husband-man, as I love him dearly and admire him greatly. I keep the majority of my blogging focus off him, as he's a private man, and I try to respect that. Unlike me, he doesn't talk unless he has something of real value to say. I, on the other hand, am a walking mouth that jabbers constantly. He's always been unassuming, never one to be flashy...doesn't care about what brand of clothes he wears or car he drives. He buys a car because it's practical. He's quietly confident. He doesn't need the fluff, and I know that he's pretty cerebral, which is one of the main reasons I was first attracted to him. I've always been a sucker for a smart man. Smart men that don't use hair products and have no idea what Burberry is. The kind of man that's rugged...the one who wears work boots and has substantial facial hair and often grease or dirt under his fingernails. No way around it...this is just plain hot - at least to me.

I wouldn't normally "out" my husband for anything in my blog, mainly because there's not much to "out" about him. However, I felt compelled to do so today. You see, my husband - the guy who watches only Discovery Channel, Sci Fi, TLC, and the History Channel (with the occasional exception of Family Guy and South Park) - is a thinking man. Case in point: last night, I came in from my night class, set my keys on the counter, said hello, and noticed that he was watching a documentary on how lead was made. Yep. Lead. As in that heavy stuff. Yeah.

So, knowing what kind of a guy my husband is, it makes me giggle when he gets excited about the one show I never dreamed he'd get excited about. It's the exception to the cerebral rule to end all exceptions. The season premiere of this show is tomorrow, I've learned, and all things will be set aside to watch it. Leave it to cheerleaders to make my cerebral husband a deer-in-the-headlights. God bless CMT's Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders "Making the Team." In all its anti-feminist glory, I, too, love this show. It's a train wreck. It's simply awesome.

Yes, I'm outing you, hon. Because it makes me smile that we can sit down together as a happy couple, I can snark on the girls' dancing ability and lack of world and political knowledge while you stare at their abundant boobs. It's the little things. And in this case, I find bonding with my husband over blatant T&A just plain sweet.

To hook any potential viewers out there, Joel McHale highlighted my absolute favorite scene from last year's show. Enjoy the blondeness: