Sunday, August 25, 2013

The worst yet.

If you hadn't heard, we're in the process of moving.

My husband has been master packer, but I've been handling the packing, travel plans, and... cleaning. I will not lie- our shower is something of a horror. The only bathroom cleaner I  have is choke-inducing, so I avoid scrubbing my shower (somewhat literally) for the sake of my own life.

This week was different. Since our home must be sparkling upon move-out, I decided a gradual method.

"You know, all this week, after taking my showers, I've gotten out and scrubbed the shower floor- just a little bit. By the time we move out, it will be perfectly clean. Isn't that clever?"
 "Oh, sure! Good!"
 "I have a feeling that you haven't been doing anything remotely similar with your showers."
"Oh? What do you think I've been doing?"
 "I would guess that you've been hopping in, peeing on the shower floor (thereby creating more work for me), and then hopping right on out."
"WRONG!"
"No way! You noticed and you've been cleaning it too!"
"No! I haven't even taken a shower all week!"
"Uh, oh... wow."
 "But I did pee in the shower last week!"

Hm. It all turned out worse than I thought.
 

 
 
 
 

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Guilty Pleasure Post.

So, I suppose this is a public confession.

I follow The Bachelor and The Bachelorette.  I can't help myself.  There are few things as belly-laugh-inducing as texting back and for with my mother at every season premier.  Kind-hearted and demure? No.  Hilarious? Yes.

Last evening, the Husband noticed that all eligible bachelors are identified by their profession.  In fact, it's almost the primary identifier:


He wondered, "On The Bachelor, are the women also identified by their profession?" Yes, I told him.  He was puzzled.

"It's all wrong.  The women should be identified by their measurements."
"Oh?"
"Yes- and before you get defensive, the men should be identified by their salaries."

I mean, we're all about honesty in this household. 



Friday, April 12, 2013

The difference between men and women.

A couple weeks ago at work, one of the Husband's female coworkers pulled some scented hand sanitizer out of her bag and went to town.  You know the stuff: it's intended to be hardcore, germ-killing poison, but smells like a fruit basket.
Who- me?
When offered a squirt of pathogen-zapping, fragrant goo, the Husband politely declined.  Of course, he saw this as a great opportunity to strike up some conversation about the differences that exist between men and women.

"Do you know why women enjoy this stuff so much and men do not?"
 "Because men don't think it smells good?"
"Actually, that's exactly why I don't like it.  It smells good.  That's the difference between men and women.  You're okay with it smelling good just because you like to surround yourself with nice things.  Me, on the other hand, I think it smells good and therefore, want to eat it.  But I can't.  That's why I hate this stuff." 

Now the Pizza Hut perfume makes so much more sense to me...

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Pillow Talk

He was tired. Real tired. It was late. Real late. Okay, like... 9pm- but my hubby likes to get to bed early. So, "real late" for him. He was ready to hit the sack, but the bed was missing its sheets. I'd just finished washing fresh ones, but hadn't dressed the mattress yet. So, the following ensued:
I will pay you one hundred dollars if you make the bed- right now
Really? No you won't.
No, I won't. But I'll pay you ten.
Okay, just let me...
NINE!
I'm on it.
Normally, I'd make the bed for free, but I'm ten dollars richer today.

Empty threats, folks.  Empty threats.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Jones Soda.



If you've never had a Jones soda- why not? Secondarily, if you've never had one, you should know that their caps have a little message on the underside.  My husband wasn't interested in what the cap from his soda said, but I was.

"Hey! Don't throw that away yet.  What does it say?"

"Feelings of goodwill to all should lighten your mood."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Gosh... that's about the worst possible thing it could say for you.  You probably lost interest at the word 'goodwill'.  Actually, you probably lost interest once you read the word, 'feelings'."

"Indeed.  If Jones Soda wished to connect with me, they would've said, 'Feelings of hunger and a constant desire for your wife will burden you all the days of your life.'"







Sunday, February 10, 2013

Pop-tarts.

In case you've been wondering what kind of sensuous things we talk about while on a hot coffee date, here's a little piece of the action for ya:




So, this week I brought my confirmandi pop-tarts to eat during class.  You know what's crazy? None of them eat pop-tarts in proper form: you know, crusts first, then flip it frosting-side down and bite.
No, no, no.  You don't know how to eat a pop-tart either! It is crusts first, but then you must slip your teeth in between the layers and break them apart! You have to eat the whoooole top or bottom layer first.
So... do you leave the frosted side for last? I think I would.  I mean, I'm assuming that the goo is sticking to the non-frosted side...
The goo sticks to both sides.  It's goo: it goes wherever it wants to.  That's not the point.  The point is- oh, oh my gosh...
What? Are you okay?
No.  No, I just realized that we've been calling it "goo" this whole time.  Goo.  
You mean, we've been calling it "goo" rather than, what? "Fruit filling"?
Yeah, we have.  But it's not fruit filling- it is goo.  Remind me never to eat another pop-tart, ever again.