We don't watch sports in our house, but I completely understand dudes who watch football and such and holler at the screen throughout a game. I myself have a proclivity for getting fired up in general, and when I'm in my own home watching a show and don't need to worry about interrupting other folks' day, I let it all loose. I make movie watching a loud, interactive experience rife with critique, incredulity, sarcasm, and, well, regrettable curse words.
I call characters morons, a$$es, bitches, jerks, and I tell them a better way to handle whatever situation they're going through.
• Oh, you've got to be kidding me!I'm a never ending barrel of laughs because I don't just yell at flicks that are new to me; no, I scream at movies I've seen before. I know what the actor is going to do next, but I still deliver instructions and berate them for a job dumbly done. (And from time to time I congratulate on a job well done and coo at a sweet moment.)
• What an idiot!
• Oh yeah, that's a terrific idea.
• Way to pay attention there, you dope.
• As if. Like that's going to work.
• Gee, what a great way to treat another human being.
• Oh, you are so going to hell you sonofabitch.
• Well aren't you just a wizard?
• Gimme a friggin' break.
Last night we watched Capitalism: A Love Story.
Goodness me, I have a patient and mostly sainted husband. He sits through my ranting at the screen. He doesn't tell me to shut up or even roll his eyes. And sometimes he will even pause the show we're watching so that I can rave without interfering with rhythm of his enjoyment. And, boy oh boy, that Mikey Moore movie merited so much ranting that I had to give up, leave, and just go to bed. (If you've paid attention to this blog you know which side I come down on and can guess who I was screaming at.)
Right now this long-suffering man I'm married to is sitting next to me working on a spreadsheet and—courtesy of instant Netflix—has elected to watch Annie. So I'm patient and mostly sainted too—and going on and on about what a poorly executed and anachronistic stereotype the Punjab character is and wondering just where in the world this Annie creature plans to get all the gifts that she spontaneous promised all her fellow orphanites on her way to a week in the lap of luxury and wondering where Annie learned to swim and commenting on how freaky and creepy Tim Curry is.