…and the rest is history

I think the amount of testosterone around here is directly affecting the part of my brain that governs my love for cheesy, old chick flicks like Dirty Dancing and Sixteen Candles.  Lately, I’ve had some sort of extrasensory perception tied into the television schedule that lures me to the TV anytime one of my old favorites is on the tube.

It’s becoming exceedingly annoying to T, who would rather watch Premier League football (that’s soccer for the rest of us Americans).  The thing is, we wouldn’t have most of the channels that play the flicks that appeal to my inner sappiness if T hadn’t talked me into the subscription tier that included the soccer channel.

Right now, I’m watching Overboard, of all things, and I’m actually enjoying it.  I don’t know how since it’s about a man who tricks a woman with amnesia she’s his wife so that she can take care of his house and kids.  Still, my inner sappiness loves a Goldie Hawn/Kurt Russell movie.  Pop me some popcorn and pour me a drink.  I’m settling in for the night.