Ovo is the third Cirque du Soleil show we've seen. First was Mystere in Las Vegas. I was 16 or 17 and it was the first big trip The Good Doctor took with me and my family. My parents asked his parents to sign a permission slip and made a copy of his health insurance card. I know. PARANOID! If only they had a time machine to see that we would date for 13 more years before getting married and having the cutest baby ever. They still would've asked for proof of insurance.

Our second show was Kooza. I bought the tickets in a rush before a live shot one night and instead of going with my mom and dad during their visit to California, we had to sell the other two tickets because I booked them one week too early. Oops. I no longer book tickets.

The Good Doctor won two tickets to Ovo at a work holiday party. He got booed because he had already won a pair of earrings ten minutes earlier. He's lucky like that sometimes. I hope he's as lucky with the HGTV Dream Home that I've been entering our names and his parents names and my parents names in for the past two weeks.

Ovo was beautiful and whimsical and amazing. All the things you expect from a Cirque du Soleil show. But the first half of the show was borderline unbearable.

Full disclosure: I talk when I watch movies and shows and pretty much any spectator event. I have to know that you saw that! And you heard that! And you felt that, too! But I <whisper>. <quietly>. And the Good Doctor, after 15 years of evolving from friend to boyfriend to lifetime super galactic forever soulmate, has come to expect it. He just wouldn't know what to do if I sat silently through an entire program without making a joke or asking a question or sharing an observation. It would be UNNATURAL.

But I met my match. In the form of a small Asian woman, who also had a white husband, and a Marvin teen daughter. She sat to my right and immediately I sensed there would be some level of participation from this woman. Maybe it was the way she and her husband carried on a conversation in their normal speaking voices during the preshow. So I could hear every observation. "Oh look, the bug catchers." "HAAHHAHAH They put a net on that guy's head." "That guy doesn't see the butterfly." "HAHHAHAHAHA"

Whatever. I was eating my $6 popcorn and having a date night with my hubband. Ain't no thang but a chicken wang.

But then the lights went down. And the show began. And she began. Talking. In her normal speaking voice, giving me a play by play of what I was seeing.

"The lights are off." "That's the egg." "They took away the egg."

And I think I could have handled it if her observations weren't so OBVIOUS. But the best was yet to come. As soon as the acrobats started performing, this is all I heard every 30 seconds:

"That's good!"

"That's good!"

"That's good!"

The Good Doctor was blissfully unable to hear her. He was entertained by my bug eyes and the steam coming out of my ears when I gave him THE LOOK. THE LOOK that said, "Why does this woman keep talking????"

I was thisclose to asking her to please lower her voice. But then I thought, "That would be ultra douchebaguette of me." I mean, it's my third show. We're sort of Cirque veterans. I went to my happy place instead. And just focused on being the first one to start the applause. I love when I do that. I always <whisper> to The Good Doctor, "I started that."

That's not annoying, right?