April 2011
1 post
“Me (to husband): you have 91 years left on our marriage contract. You gotta live...”
– In bed with husband
January 2011
1 post
3 tags
He's always making me laugh
**Coming in from the cold outside**
Husband: *Gasp!* Piwi ("peewee" is a nickname for my nipples)! Are you percolating?
Me: What?
Husband: *play-grabbing my nipples* Peanut (right) and Kiwi (left) are percolating!
Me: Stop that! LOL *covering my boobs*
Husband: Oh my... (sing-song voice) you're percolating, percolating, percolating...
November 2010
3 posts
And then I giggled...
Me: Your mother is rambling. She told your Dad she's talking to me but she's really talking AT ME. I have no idea what she's saying. I think it's her inner monologue. Something about you and I being together during your sister's wedding, which we weren't; something about you preparing for Florida even back then; something about you and your friend stopping smoking and a bachelor party; and something about two pictures stacked vertically on the wall.
Husband: Quick, come outside with me [code for him smoking], maybe we can reset her.
Note: This took place in June, 2010
Husband: So we have 2.75 lbs of burger browning and your recipe calls for .75 lbs. Have you adjusted your other ingredients?
Me: Not yet.
Hub: How many tablespoons are in a cup?
Me: I think four?
Hub: Fuck it, four it is! You need to add more flour.
** THREE MINUTES LATER **
Me: Oh god, this tastes really fucking floury.
Hub: Let me google this and see how many tablespoons of flour are in a cup. *clickyclackey-gogo-gadget-google* Oh, so it's SIXTEEN, not FOUR. That would explain a lot.
Me: OH GOD. It's ruined. Wait, get me the strainer!
** STRAINSTRAINSTRAIN - FLUSHING IT WITH WATER **
Me: Now what?
Hub: CINNAMON! SUGAR!
Me: BBQ SAUCE! WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE!
** MIXMIXMIX - TASTETASTETASTE **
Hub: Not terrible but it's missing something.
Me: What about honey mustard salad dressing?
Hub: Fuck it, we're creating a monster. Let's do it.
** DUMP - MIX **
Me: Oh, that's pretty tasty.
Hub: It's alive.... ALIVE!!!!
*** LATER... ***
Hub: It really is pretty damned amazing. We could never give the recipe out, unfortunately. I think people would be thrown off by...
"Step 4 - Add 10-12 tablespoons of flour."
"Step 5 - Freak the fuck out when you realize that you've just committed food homicide."
"Step 6 - Strain the horror show, flushing with water until the evidence of your crime has been washed away."
I had just finished burping...
It was very loud and unexpected (thanks to some soda).
Husband: I was thinking about a movie, some dinner, come home and cuddl—(BIG FAKE BURP)— or we can just strip down right here and play naked twister!
Then I doubled over laughing.
Husband: Is it possible to soundproof air? Not so much in the hallway, more like the immediate space around your Dad’s head.
September 2009
8 posts
I don't remember how this began...
Me: You help create the baby which means you have to TAKE CARE OF IT.
Husband: So, based on what I put in, I should only be responsible for like... a toenail.
Me: NO.
Husband: Well that seems like an equal amount of give and take to me. I'll even throw in the foot! I'll scrub the foot and then display it in all its clean, shiny glory!
Me: No. No. No. Let me explain this to you in a way you might understand: Your contribution to making a baby is like giving to charity. You give the charity your $5 and then it makes its way into the corporation which grows it into something bigger. You are responsible for doing your taxes and at the end you receive a tax return credit. I AM THE CEO OF THIS CHARITY. I grow your sperm and output a baby which gets returned to you after 9 months. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR SAID TAXES THUS YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR SAID CHILD!
Husband: I still think I should only have to worry about it's foot.
The harder deal
Husband: *explaining his physics homework problem*
Me: *staring at him, pretending to have ANY clue as to what he means*
Husband: So, yeah, I can't seem to get the answer for the quiz which means I must have a miscalculation somewhere.
Me: Geez, that sounds ridiculous. I'm having a similar issue... *explaining my current vector tutorial homework* ... So, I'm going to have to finish the rest tomorrow because my brain is FRIED.
Husband: *also pretending to understand my plight* BLAH BLAH BLAH ME ME ME... *holds up his laptop with the physics homework on the screen* ...do you see this?
Me: DO YOU KNOW HOW BRAIN ZAPPING MESH GRADIENTS ARE WHEN YOU CAN'T GET THEM TO WORK RIGHT? I thought not. Mine's just as difficult so BITE ME!
Me: *grabs glass of milk and dips in half of an oreo cookie*
Husband: NOOOOOOO! YOU HAVE TAINTED MY MILK WITH YOUR COOKIE TAINT!
Sexual Innuendo 101: DO NOT WANT.
Husband: I WISH you were obsessed with cucumbers. You should wake up every morning and the first thought in the morning should be, "I'm gonna get me some 'cumber."
Me: Never say that again. Never.
It's 6AM. This is normal.
Paul: Will they have raspberry jam?
Me: I don't know if they'll have it, we'll see.
Paul: WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE ARE THESE?
Me: Bagel people.
Paul: *stares* You said that so matter-of-factly. Like they were Serbs or members of the IRA.
Me: *blink*
Paul: WHAT NATIONALITY ARE THESE 'BAGEL PEOPLE'? WHAT BANNER DO THEY FIGHT THEIR BAGEL WARS UNDER?
Me: PLAIN!
Paul: *blink*
Welcome to a glimpse of us: Every. Day.
Husband: We should really put the dogs out.
Me: We really need to go to bed, too; that’s not happening either.
Husband: But us not going to bed doesn’t mean they still don’t need to POO.
Me: But… they’re asleep.
Husband: THEY WON’T BE WHEN THEY POOOOO.