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Archive for the ‘funny’ Category

Many years ago I posted about some of the unintended consequences of marriage.  I wrote about all the unexpected responsibilities bestowed upon the wife as she (oftentimes) becomes the administrative assistant for hubby;  his chef, his housekeeper, and his personal shopper.  Getting married, from the male side, is a pretty dang good deal.  Because even in marriages where life is “split” evenly, it seems the wife may somehow take on more of these particular tasks as she earns a whole new job description.  It’s a slow process, like with most jobs… extra duties just creep up on you.

When you accept the ring after that romantic proposal, you read the posted job overview and negotiate your best deal with the hubby-to-be.  Then as the years go by, and your world begins to demand more and more with less and less time, you take on a few more tasks.  Then as other employees go on strike –or hubby forgets where the hamper is or burns his last grilled cheese….. you take on a few more tasks.  Before you know it your responsibilities have doubled – you add kids, pets, after-school activities, a bigger house.. and you take on even more tasks.  Then, years later, you wake up one morning and realize you’ve been getting the standard 2% cost of living increase via an extra back rub here and there, or maybe a sparkly piece of jewelry on occasion, and you begin to recognize that you are now doing the job of 3 people.  You are putting in extra hours, doing things you never said you’d do like darning socks (do people do this anymore??) and sending Christmas cards to your hubby’s crazy Aunt Barbara – who you only met once at your wedding….. and, you stop.  You step back.  You wonder… how did I get here?

 

You think back…… “Hmmmm… I don’t remember the job description mentioning anything about buying new undies for hubby or making sure he changes them every day.”  You sigh “ I don’t recall signing any agreements that said I would be the gift buyer for any and all holidays/birthdays/anniversaries of everyone we know.”  But here you are.  This is your *new* job.  You celebrate the fact that you still have a job.  Many other people you know have been downsized and are no longer “working”.  You still love your job.  You work hard and there are still quite a few perks.  And then you realize, that while your job may have changed,  you’re still your own boss (well – some days………… ) and the daily grind is still rewarding.  And, ultimately, you still love what you do… even though you’re now the designated booger wiper, boo boo kisser, cleaning fairy, buyer of TP and finder of lost things  - even though, these are all things that hubby can do for himself!! J  (and just for the record these all apply LONG before you ever have any kids!!)

 

So, it’s probably no surprise when I use the above info as a “warning” for all new brides-to-be.   This is just a glimpse into your future.  You may not think so.. you may say… “nope, not me”.   And, at the beginning, you may actually fight the good fight…. and, you may actually win on some occasions.  Or, you may be one of the lucky few who marries an award winning grilled cheese maker.  Or maybe you hit the jackpot and you have a man who just loves to do laundry (do these exist??).  But I can assure you that there will be tasks that you take on without even realizing it.  Because eventually, you will realize you need to pick your battles.  And you will discover that the definition of marriage, is learning how long you’re willing to wait to have a heavy item removed from your kitchen or recognizing how many days can pass before you give up and move the empty soda can from the counter into the trash.   Because remember, nobody ever looked at a married man who is dressed in wrinkled clothes, holey black jeans, white socks and a flannel shirt and said…. “Oh boy, he looks awful”.   Instead they say….. “How could his wife let him out of the house like that??!!”… and *poof* you have instantly become his personal shopper and wardrobe consultant… just one more of your job duties!

 

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Ladies, never forget that you cannot “unknow” something.

 

If this statement alone causes you some concern, you should perhaps stop reading now.   If it prompts some curiosity, that’s only natural –  sort of like rubber-necking a car wreck on the side of the road… You really don’t want to see mangled bodies and carnage, but you can’t necessarily look away.  Some of you may be the type avert your eyes as you pass.  Others may cover your eyes with your hands and peek through your fingers… thinking that the protection of your hand, will somehow make what you do see a bit less traumatic.

 

So, whether you are the avert your eyes type… or if you want to continue reading this while peeking through your hand.. please know that you continue to read at your own risk!

 

In this blog, I often discuss the differences between men & women.  Ok, scratch that most of the time I do this.. it is, after all, what the entire blog is about.  I share how the differences play out in my own life and how absurdly irritating (dang it.. I always type the wrong thing first) wonderful? my hubby can be.  Many times, I come across articles or comments from you all that help to support the idea that I didn’t win the lottery of annoying (crap – there I go again) loving husbands.   After about 4 years of blogging about gender differences and finding humor in every-day married life, you’d think that it would be difficult to surprise me.  BUT, this week, I was indeed surprised by something I came across.

 

I will take a snippet from an article I read.

 

“In May of (last) year, the UK retailer Marks & Spencer did a poll and found that one-third of men admit to changing (underwear) only every two-to-three days, and one in 40 wore the same pair “as long as he can”.  And “In 2011, Clorox conducted a study that showed one-in-eight guys will wear underwear two or three times before washing them. And that half of men admit to using the “smell test” to determine if their drawers are still wearable (which should get us some points for bravery, right?)”  (Full articles can be read HERE or HERE:  )

 

OH MYYYYYYYYY…….dirty laundry

 

Ladies, I myself, have blogged about hubby’s ability to wear the same pair of jeans for more days than I can count on my hands before they walk themselves to the laundry room.  But, WOW, this study brings the definition of “smell test” to a whole new low.   And, it sure is a hit below the belt that I’m not wholly sure women were prepared for! (I know I wasn’t!!)

 

So men, I know that you may not want to “air your dirty laundry” for all the world to see (or smell) but, it seems obvious that at least 1 in 5 of you don’t change your skivvies every day.  So, I figured I’d do my own survey (I know there are some men who read this blog…)  So, if you’re a man, help us do our own THD survey (since most of what I read was UK based – Is it different in the US?? By my own initial study – the answer is NO!).  This survey is totally anonymous so no one but you and maybe your wife or girlfriend (after I give her a bit of upcoming coaching) will know that your undies, if given the opportunity, would run themselves to your laundry room right this very second and beg for some laundering!

 

 

And ladies,  here’s my piece of advice for you.  The next time you do laundry…. Please count the number of boxers, briefs or (heaven forbid) banana hammock thongs that you’ve washed in that load. Then count back the days since you last did laundry.  If the numbers don’t add up…. You have the “1 in 5”… and, I’m sorry for you.    But, at least you now know, and whether you’ve been reading through your hand this entire time or not… you can now not “unknow”.  And again, I’m sincerely sorry to be the one to break this to you!

woman dirty laundry

 

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I knew it… I knew it… I knew it.

 

I just knew that one day there would be an article, or a study that would help hubby argue his case against me.   I mistakenly stumbled on one when hubby was suspiciously sleeping through our screaming baby at night and claimed it was because he “didn’t hear him” (if you didn’t read that one just click HERE) and I knew it was only a matter of time before he could take to Google to find some obscure report that he could wave defiantly in my face as he danced around me singing… I told you so… I told you so…

 

And so folks, today (or well, more accurately last week) was that day.

 

Please let me explain.

 

If you’ve been reading for any length of time, you may know that cookies have somehow played an oddly, ever-present, role in our relationship.

 

You could start with the fact that when we began dating I referred to hubby as my “cookie”… and some of you may even remember one of my first blog posts that seemed to stir up a quite an internet debate from a few naysayers, about what a shitty person I am.  When we debated the cookie vs cracker monikers that I bestowed upon my boyfriends.  (You can read this one HERE).

 

Then, there was the story of how cupid “shot an arrow through hubby’s stomach” as I baked him fresh chocolate chip cookies shortly after we met.

 

A while back hubby celebrated the day that DiGiorno added cookies to their pizza boxes….. as he happily declared “They’ve combined 2 of the best things in the world!”

 

You may recall a blog post where hubby, with utter abandonment, consumed every-single cookie in our cupboard as our snack battle escalated.

 

And then, there was the time where he demonstrated his true love for me by leaving one solitary cookie in the box, just so it would be there for me to eat (or for me to throw away the box – even today, months and months later, I’m still not sure which).

 

And lastly, not all that long ago… I shared a story about the 900 lb box of Oreo cookies hubby just had-to-have at Costco.  Only to realize that the Costco version of Oreo’s are not, in fact, the double stuffed Oreos… and that regular Oreo’s do not, shockingly, have……. enough Stuff.

 

So this pretty much brings me to last week.  Where somebody, somewhere, who obviously wants to torture me, or perhaps test the fiber of my marriage…… put out a study showing that Oreos are actually just as addictive as ……………ready for this (in case you live in a cave and missed it last week) ……………..COCAINE!  (to read the full article click HERE or on the picture below)

 Oreo Article

Yes folks, the fantastic research analysts, just gave hubby the support info he needs to never, ever, save me another cookie for the rest of my life.  Since he has a study to prove that he can’t possibly help himself…. He… Must. Eat. Every. Cookie. In. The Box.   And, he will forever have evidence to throw at me to illustrate how it just couldn’t possibly be his fault that I get none.

 

Thank you research scientists.  Thank you makers of Oreos.   Thank you ever-so-much for giving hubby permission to say… “Sorry honey, the drugs made me do it”

 

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Well,  we started day care.

 

For those of you who have lived through this traumatic experience, this statement alone probably either brings back horrible memories or perhaps it brings back nothing – because you’ve blocked out just how bad it was…  on you, your baby and your sanity.

 

We started 3 weeks ago.  And, in 3 weeks, we’ve had a baby with 3 separate illnesses all accompanied by a significant fever.. some of which have lasted 5 days.  Which means that after 3 weeks of day care, we’ve only been IN day care for probably a total of 8 days or so.  Seems like some sort of scam since we pay for 5 days a week… and we continually need to keep him home.  We’ve made approximately 5 visits to the Dr and 1 trip to the emergency room.  If you are wondering… yes, it’s been an incredibly FUN 3 weeks.

 

After the 3rd visit to the doctor, he said to me.  “Oh, you started day care….. you’ll probably spend more time here at our office than you do at work and then you’ll start to wonder why you ever went back to work!”.  Gee, thanks for the reassurance doc!   So I asked, “Well, how long will it be this bad?”  To which he replied, “Oh, he’ll probably be sick for at least a year or so.  BUT, (his attempt at making me feel better as he sees look of utter anguish on my face) once he starts school, you will never need to come here!!!”

 

Wonderful.   A year of a sick toddler.. and an even longer year of a hubby who has to deal with a sick toddler.   It’s gonna be a doozy of a year.

 

Let me tell you a few things that happen when you have a sick baby.

 

#1.  You have a very cranky baby

#2.  You have a very cranky hubby

#3.  You do not get very much sleep

#4.  You have an even crankier hubby

#5.  There’s a lot of fussiness

#6.  You wonder who is fussier, the baby or the hubby

#7.  There’s a lot of crying

#8.  (The baby cries a lot too…..)

#9.  There’s a lot of boogers, and medicine and uncontainable poop

#10. There’s not enough cuddling, or rocking, or singing that can make the baby OR the hubby any less miserable

 

Then, as if all of the above is not bad enough, the Swedes had to go an invent quite possibly the most disgusting device ever known to man.  If you have infants, you may have heard of this device.  We were steadfastly against using it.  It’s just plain gross.  We were hold-outs for many, many months.  We wiped boogers all day long, and bought every imaginable bulb syringe to suck out as much snot as possible and we insisted we’d never, ever subject ourselves to such a revolting, loathsome activity. And then, mini hubby was on his 2nd week of illness and the boogers were taking over.  You could tell he couldn’t breath and he was starting to refuse bottles…..so, we caved and bought (read this in the most ominous voice possible)  The Nose Frida.    If you have no idea what I’m talking about, let me give you a quick lesson.

 

NOSEFRIDA

It’s a wonderfully designed tube that attaches to an elongated nozzle that is placed into the infant’s nose.  The end of the tube is then placed in your mouth…. YES, I did say mouth.  And you use your own breath to literally SUCK boogers out of the baby’s nose….. say it with me….. Eeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

 

It’s perhaps the grossest, most effective, instrument ever created.

 

But here-in lies the problem.  I apparently don’t have the lung capacity to properly dislodge the boogers.  So, in must step hubby, to use his manly lung muscles to remove the maximum amount of boogies…. Trust me.  He LOVES this job.  No lie.  I mean, what person wouldn’t want to suck someone else’s boogers directly into their own mouth?  Ok, so maybe I’m being slightly overdramatic.  There is a filter at the end of the hose so the boogers don’t actually go into your mouth.  And, maybe I was lying slightly, when I said he loves this job.  Cause he FREAKIN’ hates it.  And, ever since day one of booger sucking he’s complained that he’s sucked all the baby’s germs right into his own system and now he feels sick himself.

 

Which is just FANTASTIC… because what more could I want that a sick baby AND a sick hubby —- FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR??????????

(anyone have a gun so I can shoot myself in the head??)

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Wow…. You know how sometimes you blink and you’ve lost like a month of your life?  Well, that’s me right now.  I’m short staffed at work which is slowly and painfully killing me and then add to that a cute little munchkin to take care of (ok, 2 munchkins if you count hubby – who arguably is less cute, although cute in his own right….) and I have no idea where my time goes.

 

What I do know is that the tasks that used to not get done at my house because of hubby’s inability to commit (or at least align) with my timelines now take even L O N G E R…. if you can possibly imagine that.   And longer means that Christmas bags filled with gifts are still sitting in my bedroom (read HERE), laundry baskets filled with clean clothes NEVER get emptied.  A picture that I put on the side of our bathroom to get hung (oh say, about 6 months ago) still knowingly winks at me – from the floor  – every time I take a shower.    I remember a day when blogging somehow inadvertently led to action… or at least considered action by hubby.  But maybe because we’re both so busy.. and tired…. and busy…. and MORE tired and I can’t find time to blog, it’s not easy to subtlety put things on hubby’s radar.

 

But alas, all this really means is that the fairies have needed to kick into overdrive.

 

And by fairies….. (contrary to hubby’s perspective)…. I mean ME!

 

Take this example.

 

It’s allergy season at our house… which sucks!  If you don’t have seasonal allergies consider yourself incredibly lucky because it’s almost impossible to communicate how much it truly blows.  The sniffling, sneezing, nose blowing, medicine swallowing, windows open/closed debates that happen on a daily basis at our house are ridiculous.  We have loaded up on tissues and Allegra D and nasal spray and umpteen other remedies so we can try to make it through this season with minimal discomfort.

 

So, I’m in the kitchen the other day and I go to the counter to get a tissue….. but…………. The tissue box is no longer there.  Shocking, I know.

 

So, I go to the bathroom to blow my nose… thinking to myself…. “Self, don’t replace the tissues.  Hubby used the last one.  He will undoubtedly need more.  He will replace the box that he emptied.”  And then the part of me that lives in reality said …. “Self, you’re delusional.  Replace the tissues.  You will absolutely need another tissue long before that box gets replaced.”   And then the hopeful side of me responded…. “No.  He’s going to prove you wrong.  He WILL replace the tissues”

 

And then, like 4 days passed.   No tissues.

 

And every dang time I walked to the counter…. forgetting that there are no tissues there, I curse under my breath as I reach into thin air grasping for a non-existent tissue box.

 

And then, one day hubby was standing in the kitchen as I walked to the counter for a tissue (apparently I’m not good at un-training myself).  But this time, rather than silently have a conversation in my head I decided to talk to our son.   “Mini-hubby” I said, “When you get older, please, oh please, make sure you learn how to do things like this for the people around you.  Daddy doesn’t care that mommy has snot running down her face……”    And hubby, who is obviously listening, perks up and says…. “Oh, there’s no tissues?”.   “No honey, there’s no tissues…. Because you emptied them days ago and didn’t get a new box”.

 

With a straight face hubby responds….. “But tissues replace themselves, I don’t understand why there not there?”  “Uhm, no hubby, tissues actually don’t replace themselves”.  I sigh a long sigh….. “Fairies??”  he asks, seemingly perplexed.  “Nope, the fairies don’t do it either”.  “Hmmmmm…..” he thinks for a moment (you can see the wheels turning in his head).   Then he comes to a brilliant conclusion.   “I will get new tissues”  he declares.  And then, without skipping a beat he asks me….. “where do we keep the tissues???”

 

(We’ve lived in this house for 8 years.  The extra tissues have had the same storage spot for 8 years.  Hubby has no idea where that storage spot is)

And that your honor, is why I had to kill him.

 

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Ok.. so like every post I write lately, I will start with an apology for dropping off the face of the earth.   I’ve been traveling for work 2 weeks out of the last 3.  We’ve had to deal with a sick baby with a fever for days (and shockingly, I mean the real baby, not the hubby).  And, I also somehow need to fit in all the stuff that life throws at me.. all this, while maintaining the ever-so-late bedtime of about 9:00pm since our wonderful little bundle of joy is still filling our lives with “joyous” sleepless nights.  It’s hard to squeeze in blogging time in between a work day that ends at 7pm, the baby’s dinner, my dinner, bath time and the baby’s bedtime all before I collapse from exhaustion at 9:00.

 

Anyhoooooo…..

 

You may recall from past posts that sometimes, only sometimes, I do what some might refer to as nag.

 

I prefer to call it reminding…… over and over and over and over and over………….

 

You may also recall that hubby has a severe case of Selective Vision.  In that, he has the unique ability to not actually see what’s directly in front of him… in plain sight, day, after day, after day.

 

So, it might come as no surprise to you when I tell you that the below picture is a bag that’s sitting beside the dresser in our bedroom.   Now, at first glance you say “Eh, no biggie….. it’s obviously holding important items” or you may think “What’s the big deal… it’s a pretty tiny bag that’s barely noticeable”.  But, let me share a few facts about this bag:

christmas gifts

  • It’s literally right next to the door to the bedroom so you see it (or at least I see it) Every. Single. Time.  I go into the room.
  • It’s also right outside the door to the bathroom…. So, if you were sitting on the toilet with the door open (not that we ever do this………) you would be staring straight at it
  • It’s been sitting in this spot for approximately 2 ½ months
  • Prior to sitting in it’s current spot, it was sitting in our living room for approximately 1 month  (and then I got SICK of looking at it all day long and moved it to it’s current – AND APPARENTLY FINAL – resting place in the bedroom)

 

Perhaps the most perplexing fact about this bag is it’s contents………….

 

Wanna guess what’s in it?

 

Wait for it….. it’s a good one……………..

 

The bag is filled with an assortment of hubby’s Christmas presents.   YES, you read that correctly……. It’s holding friggin Christmas presents.  And, just in case, you need clarification on this.  TODAY is April 17th.  Christmas WAS December 25th.

 

These are apparently items of little-to-no urgency… hubby is obviously saving them for a rainy day (literally….. a rainy day…. one of the items is a poncho for him to wear at Giants games during inclement weather).  Another item is actually remnants of the actual gift… you see, the bag is still holding a shoe box from a new pair of kicks he received.  He’s worn the new sneakers but, heck, why ever get rid of the box when you can leave it in a bag, in the bedroom…… F-O-R-E-V-E-R????????????????

 

These are likely gifts that require thinking about where they should live permanently…… and, if it’s not completely obvious about where an item should be put away…. Hubby’s solution is to NEVER put it away.   LUCKY ME!

 

being a nag

So, I ask you this……. I have not nagged about this bag once…. Nope, not one single time.  I quietly moved it upstairs.  I silently walk past it every day.  I bite my lip as I move it around the room so the cleaning ladies can vacuum.  BUT, I have not nagged one time.   So… after almost 4 months, if I were to remind him about this bag…. (since it’s obviously a permanent fixture in our room and he no longer sees it) would it in fact be nagging?????????????????

 

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