Spousal Sillies

**NOTE: I apologize in advance if this happens to be an embarrassing post for my spouse.  I would like to note that I am planning on having him guest write an equally revealing post about me, and also am kind of hoping that maybe his schedule these days might prevent him from actually reading this.**

While he’s been known to eat bugs and pig ear sandwiches, and will never turn down a shot (even a Mexican Whore—sick); and he is a great cook and charming to boot; here are a few examples of the true reasons why I love my spouse:  the gritty, funny, ridiculous elements that make him human.

Lifting Weight:  I came home from work one day to find him standing in the front room in front of the dining room table, facing the wall with a mirror on it and lifting one 15 lb weight that he “got on clearance”.  He was wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, breathing hard and admiring his muscles.  When I asked him what he was doing, he said, “lifting weight”.

Broncos Pillow Talk:  After the first game of the season this year, he fell asleep reading on the tiny couch, after having not only watched the game but also spending a large amount of time talking about it on the phone and reading about it on-line.  When I tried to wake him up to come to bed, he mumbled “Broncos fourth down…bad call! Bad call!  Mumble mumble…put him back in! Fumble!  Blah blah blah…”.  When I tried again, he mumbled more about the Broncos, to which I replied, “I’m trying to get you to come to bed, not get a play-by-play of the game.  This can’t be comfortable honey—you look like a Big Guy on a Little Couch" (I even kind of sang it).  To this he tauntingly replied “oooohhhh”, and waved his hands around and smiled.  I let him sleep there.

Hole in the Wall:  After a long night of fighting, he came to bed and “showed me” by sleeping as far away from me as possible (on the very edge of his side of the bed).  In the middle of the night, I heard a loud crash and a bunch of cussing.  When I asked what the hell happened, he said “I just fell out of bed!”.  I had to stifle my laughter at the thought of a grown ass man (and he’s a tall one at that) falling out of bed, as well as try to be supportive after all we’d been through.  The next morning, as I’m getting out of the shower I hear, “oh SHIT”.  When I come into the bedroom, he’s looking at the giant hole in the wall created by his knee when he fell, and his eye is swollen from where he hit the corner of the bed side table.  Yep, you totally showed me.

Loopholes (my personal favorite):  This is a reoccurring pattern from him, however this is by far the best example—when I was pregnant, I left town to visit my dad for a week, and left him with a “Honey Do List” (something I didn’t even know about until my Granny informed me, thank you very much).  One of the chores on his list was to paint over the chipped and possibly lead based paint on the doorknobs in the house.  This particular chore wasn’t of extreme importance to me; however my sister had convinced me that it HAD to get done.  When I returned from my trip, I came home to find that he had painted the doorknobs—only he painted one side blue, and one side orange.  Seriously.  His argument was that I didn’t specify what color, but just that he paint them.  Touché. 

Occupational Hazards

At the dentist’s office this summer, I had to get a tooth extracted.  NOT FUN.  But you know what is fun?  Laughing gas.  Matter of fact, I had a whole slew of ideas that came to me for blogging while I was at the dentist’s office…only they weren’t nearly as awesome a few hours later when the drugs wore off.  One thing I did notice was that the dental technician seemed to have some solid one-liners that she had clearly used before.  Like right after they got me good and high on nitrous, they injected a giant needle filled with Novocain into my gums.  Fucking brutal.  I’m just sitting there, happily waiting for the procedure to begin (matter of fact pretty much flying high as a kite), thinking about blog posts when BAM! Needle in the gums.  Right after they did this, the tech says, “talk about a buzz kill, huh?”.  Why yes, that’s exactly what that was, you clever little technician, you!   Of course there wasn’t much I could do to reply but grunt, but I think that they prefer it that way.  If I could have talked, imagine the stoned jibberish ideas I would be spouting off to these women!  Wait, you don’t want to hear about my blog post titled “Things You Would Say to Your Dentist if Only This Wrench Wasn’t in the Way”?! 

It made me think about other occupational situations where it can be awkward, but is still part of the job.  OB/GYNs have it rough.  They must really have to remember that it’s worth the pay.  Otherwise, all those incredibly awkward moments (that start with the fucking gown and end with the latex gloves coming off) that are made even more awkward when exacerbated by small talk would SO not be worth it.  Or how about hair stylists?  Having to listen to certain clients go on and on about their puppy/house renovations/spouse/job.  You can’t shut them down because you need the money, so you tolerate it and hope you have a few quips/one liners to keep it interesting.  Or you go into the dental industry, and shove a wrench in your client’s mouth.

The OG Werewolves of Thunder

I found this the other day-completely forgot I made and posted it.  Pretty awesome.  NOTE: Please try to ignore my obnoxious voice taking the cuteness out of the video.  Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VZ4BC5HPUWg&noredirect=1

Making it Rain

I was watching TV with my 5 year old daughter the other day and a commercial came on for some retarded, plastic toy.  Lately, every time she sees a commercial for a shitty toy she says, “I want that” (let’s all hold our comments about what that says about my parenting skills and how much TV I let her watch, thanks).  I’ve also started instilling an allowance system, so that she understands that you have to work to get rewarded (again, hold the comments about making a five year old have to understand the concept of work and rewards).  As a result, whenever she says she wants something she sees on TV, I tell her “well, if you do your chores and save up your allowance, then you can buy that yourself”.  This last time, she responded with a comment that spawned an awesome conversation:

Daughter: “I wish sharing was a chore”.

Me: “(Laughing) Why is that?  Because you’re really good at sharing?”

D: “Yes.  And I would make money by sharing.  Then I would share my money, which would make even more money.  Then I would take all of my money and throw it into the sky so it rained down on everyone”.

M: (Couldn’t help myself) “Now that’s what I call making it rain!”.

Mad Face

I received a phone call the other day from a colleague who saw me walking down the 16^th Street Mall.  In his voice mail, he stated I was “so serious, in fact I almost looked mad”.  This is the second time in recent months that I have heard that my normal, unsmiling face makes me look mad.  The other person even noted, “I thought you didn’t like me for the longest time”.  While I will admit I have been known to flare up or throw a temper tantrum from time to time (especially after too much whiskey), it is something I am trying to reign in.  When I’m on the mall, I’m focusing on not being harassed by beggars or douche bags (or douche bag beggars—I’m looking at you Greenpeace jerk offs who think that an obnoxious wave and a “come here, do you like the environment” comment is gonna get me to subscribe); and I’m also trying not to get the heel of my shoe stuck in between the tiles on the mall (that shit will RUIN a pair of heels).  And maybe the combination of that along with the fact that people need to watch the fuck where they are going makes me look a little angry.  Rightly so-and I get it (and fine, maybe I am actually a little bit annoyed).  But what is it about people that think that just because I’m not smiling, I must be mad/something must be wrong with me?  I ran into another colleague on the mall who said, “I saw you walking the other morning but you had your headphones in and didn’t see me, so I didn’t want to interrupt.  You also looked really upset.  Is everything alright?”.  Yes, thank you, everything is just fine.  While I appreciate your concern/criticism, it’s JUST THE WAY MY FACE LOOKS.  Now back off before I get fucking mad.

Happy New Year

Alright, so I started this blog last year at this time and I was pretty on top of it...for a hot one.  Then I kind of tapered off, but I have been working on some stuff and am going to post a few things now.  I know, I know--I shouldn't wait months in between posts.  But life gets in the way!  Here's to a new year, and hopefully many more highly anticipated posts.  Ha ha ha, just kidding.  About the cheers to the new year, I mean.