Gag Me With A Big Rock, Or, Some Notes For My Future Fiance, Also Al Roker Sucks

The other morning I had the Today show on in the background while I was getting ready for work. With the syrup of Katie gone they needed to fill in some sap. So some dude proposed to his lady love right there on NBC. It wasn't enough that she had to know how much he loved her, he wanted all of the American viewing public to witness this. Romantic moment gone public.

Because it's a show after all. Giving the engagement ring is now a show and not a private pledge of everlasting love. It's I-want-my-fifteen-minutes-of-fame! Ooh! I hope Fox is picking up on this and that will be their next installment in bad (and by bad I mean good) reality TV. "How Public Is Your Love?" I hope they get Chuck Woolery to host it. Lingo isn't his best work.

Why do so many people feel it necessary to choose a public forum - like sky writing, the baseball stadium screen, the airplane? You want to know why? So Al Roker - or someone else - can go on and on about it. It's stroking the male ego. Ladies, your private moment has become a Monster Truck show and you are just the stick shift.

"Let me see that ring!"

"Would you look at that ring?!"

"That's such a big ring!"

"Congratulations!"

"Really, would you look at that ring!?"

"Ah, the ring!"

Said Al over and over and over again. Never mind that that is what he does. He's the guy who laughs at his own jokes and then has to say it over and over again because he got chuckles from the crew. What he doesn't realize is the one clown in the crew (voted Class Clown of his 2005 graduating class) has created a laugh card FOR the crew - or they have some drinking game when Al gives "that doofus look" - drink. So they are all drunk. I just want to throw my flip-flop at the TV screen. I may have done this. (By the way, why is he not sticking to the weather and chasing diners across America? Who gave him his own segments with no babysitter?)

Anyway, my point: he kept making a big deal about the ring. But that is what we do.

"Let me see the ring!"

Honestly, I could care less what the ring looks like. (Believe it.) I am more interested in the romantic moment of when/how he asked. Because I am a cheesy romantic at heart. I love tearjerkers of The Way We Were proportions. (And yet, I haven't seen The Notebook. 99 Things To Do Before I Die.) So, I ask, "How did he propose?" or "Were you expecting it?" Dammit there better be a special moment - and it could take place over a carton of sechuan noodles for all I know - if that had some significance between the TWO OF YOU and not the TRILLION OF US.

Note to future fiance: Make sure Al Roker is not in the room.

Because not only is the way in which he gives you the rock a show a la The Today Show, but the size of the rock must be proportionate to the size of....his wallet...his love for you...or is it his cock? (Frankly, I think this would be a better gauge. Not to mention make for better TV. So Al Roker can wink,wink at the girl and just mouth the words, "Congratulations!" Oh, but it's Al so he will just scream it over and over again. And wink, wink then wink, wink, then wink, wink. Al really is a broken record, have you noticed? And my record is broken too. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Scratch.)

Note to future fiance: Um, OK, I'll take the Big Ring if by the size you mean "size". Wink, wink.
And so with all this attention of how "well" this dude did with the Big Gesture and the Fancy Rock, he got to pull his britches up a notch. He knows he won't be seeing a "dog house" for a long time - until exactly one year from now when he forgets the anniversary of the day he proposed, not to be confused with the anniversary of when he said "I love you," the anniversary of their first kiss, the anniversary of when he thought about proposing....Remember it all dammit! Because then he is just a big idiot.

My mom has a modest-sized diamond that my dad bought when they were young. In fact, a lot of my friend's parents have just that - a modest-sized diamond. That was back when people got married before they made the "big bucks". In today's world, my dad would have bought my mom a football ball-sized ring and proposed on SportsCenter or something. I'll tell you the Chris Berman commentary would BLOW Al Roker away.

Note to future fiance: Let's talk. For Berman, I could reconsider this whole anti-TV proposal stance.

But the modest-sized ring was all he could afford at the time - you know, after he bought the Corvette. Seriously. But the point is, years later, they could have "upgraded." But she never wanted to. Even when they changed their settings to gold. She still kept her original rock. And one time, she lost it (only to be found a week later in the closet). My mom was so upset, she cried for days. My dad didn't understand, he tried to console her with, "No big deal. We will get a new one." I'm sure she gave him the look of daggers. The rock could have been an edible jelly bean but she was sentimental for that particular diamond - the one in which he pledged his undying love.

But see? The guy doesn't have the sentimental attachment. Giving it is the production and when the tape stops rolling, they bow. And then the show is over ladies. That ring is now your show. And don't expect your guy to tour Broadway with you. What do you care? It's you and your rock. I have friends who just got engaged and she told me that she just can't stop staring at the ring. See? It's her show now. He washes his hands of the spotlight and starts salivating for his bachelor party.

And the parade of the ring begins. Your left-handed now! What better way to see the rock. You shake hands with your left hand and, ouch, did that rock get in your way. Oh, yeah, I'm engaged! "This 'ole thing just gets in the way of living, y'all!" And now your friends want to try the damn thing on all the time. When do you get to wear it?

I joke, of course. I'm happy for my Friends With Rock. I get the sentimental attachment to the ring. I do. It embodies something a camera can't capture.

So, for the love of God, leave Al Roker at home.

The author really just wants Al Roker to go back to reading weather charts because that is "his neck of the woods." Besides she is really getting drunk off that drinking game.