How we had to watch a fuzzy "Seven Years in Tibet," which is making both of us slightly irritated

Last night I blogged about how nice it'd be if Dave were here.

I miscalculated football night.

"No football."

"It should be over by now," he said, flipping on the TV. "Until the 7 o'clock games start, anyhow."

"No pre-games, then."

"OK, OK."

Yet NBC comes on and wow, men are yelling about calls and games long over.

"Good thing this is the post-game. I'm home free."

"Dave. I'm going to bed."

"Can we watch baseball?"

Dude. We don't even get sound on Fox. Knock yourself out.