July 25, 2010
Not sure what’s going on here. My wife’s been watching The Deadliest Catch all weekend long. I think she’s got the hots for one of the fishing boat captains, but I’m not sure which one. Hopefully it’s not the guy who just stroked out from smoking four packs of cigarettes a day, but it might be – she’s always had a soft spot for hard-luck cases.
Anyway, I blame the Catsittter. He’s the one that got her started on this stupid show during our last visit to San Diego. It’s nothing but crab pots and hapless greenhorns and frigid danger. And she doesn’t even like boats, unless you’re talking about Walleye fishing on Lake Minnetonka.
The only reason I’m not worried about the Nordic Warrior Queen running off with a fisherman from Alaska is that A) she can’t stand the cold, and B)…ummm….she can’t stand the cold. But if she comes home one of these days with a parka and a pair of snow-boots, I suppose I’ll have to learn to fish.
To commemorate her weekend obsession with crab fishing, I brought home six crablegs and a bottle of champagne from Fry’s. Hopefully that will turn the tide in my favor.