"I can't stand this keyboard! If I want to write a contraction, I have to push another button to go to a different keyboard set just to get the apostrophe."
Perturbed and almost shouting, she continued, " I CAN NOT WRITE A SENTENCE WITHOUT USING A CONTRACTION!!!""
"Hmmm…" I countered. You seem to have no problem saying a sentence without a contraction."
She paused, then smiled slightly realizing what she had just said. Her expression changed quickly…
"Never mind!" as she lifted her keyboard in front of her face, blocking my view of her.
I spent a lot of time blowing up balloons for my son's birthday, which was a few days ago. My wife went around with a pin today and destroyed them!
While she was doing it, I said, "You take my breath away!"
We had just finished a rather exhausting day of hiking (code for walking around town) and exploring the beautiful area. We were very tired and both settled into bed for a much needed rest. The room was dark and the steady purr of the air conditioner made the condition just perfect to fall asleep quickly. I had just fallen to sleep when suddenly Sybil screams, pulls her blankets back, jolts up out of bed, and flips the lights on.
"What??!!!!!!" I asked with great concern, as I am ripped from my sleep and jump out of bed ready to fight off any would-be assailant of my wife.
"There's flashing lights in the bed!" she says with great fear.
"Flashing lights?!!!" I ask.
"I think they might be lightening bugs!" she says.
"Sedona doesn't have any lightening bugs."
"Well, something is in there flashing!" she says as she pulls back the sheets slowly with apprehension. "Do you see anything?"
I look carefully. There is nothing. "Now, now, climb back into bed and get some sleep." I advised
Sensing that I am humoring her in a condescending way, she says, "Really! I saw something."
She continues, "Turn off the lights, I'll prove it to you!"
I turn the lights off…..we wait….and wait….and wait………….nothing.
"Get back into bed!" I instruct, still tired, but now wound up.
"I wonder if I'll see any more lights?" she says as she pulls her blankets up in the air to peek under her covers.
As she does that, we both see a number of bright sparks and discharge snaps.
"Oh, Sybil!" I groan. "That's static electricity!!!"
Sheepishly, she says,"Oh, I thought they were lightning bugs, at first."
As she sees me roll my eyes, her demeanor changes and she states with certainty, "Of course, I know it's static electricity! Anyone can see that!"
"Good night, dear." I gently say as roll over to go 'back' to sleep.
"Good night!" she states with finality. She settles back down into bed.
A short pause…then a very softly muted mutter, "…they could have been lightening bugs!"
Here are a set of rules created by men for women:
Sunday = sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.
Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.
Crying is blackmail.
Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!
We don't remember dates. Mark birthdays and anniversaries on a calendar. Remind us frequently beforehand.
Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.
If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us. We refuse to answer.
If something we said can be interpreted two ways, and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.
Christopher Columbus did not need directions, and neither do we.
If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.
We are not mind readers and we never will be. Our lack of mind-reading ability is not proof of how little we care about you.
If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," we will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, expect an answer you don't want to hear.
When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine. Really.
Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as navel lint, the shotgun formation, or monster trucks.
You have enough clothes.
You have too many shoes.
Foreign films are best left to foreigners. (Unless it's Bruce Lee or some war flick where it doesn't really matter what they're saying anyway.)
It is neither in your best interest or ours to take the quiz together. No, it doesn't matter which quiz.
I am in shape. ROUND is a shape.
Thank you for reading this; Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight, but did you know we really don't mind that, it's like camping.
My car has all the bells and whistles. Most components in the car (radio, navigation, phone, etc.) can be controlled by voice commands. A button must be first pushed to activate the listening mode. The little mic is right above the driver's head. Push the button, issue your command, and wait for the command to be executed. Simple.
My wife and I attended a special birthday party for a friend at a local restaurant. After the party, we left and climbed into the car. I started the car and the GPS display panel lights up. It has two modes, daylight (black text on bright white background) and night time (soft grey text on black background). Since we arrived while it was light outside, the display was still in daylight mode. It was dark now, and the blinding display looked like a flashlight shining back onto our faces.
Just as I was pulling out of the parking lot my wife leans over towards me, and with a very LOUD voice, yells "NIGHT TIME MODE!!!"
I'm so startled at this unexpected outburst, I nearly lose control of the car.
Recovering from the near accident, ears still throbbing, I advise her, "A button needs to be pushed before you issue a command!"
"Oh, I thought it was listening all the time." she responds.
"Even if it was," I countered, "it's not deaf !!! You don't have to yell so loud!"
"I just wanted to make sure it heard me loud and clear."
"All you need to do is to speak clearly." I instructed. "Believe me, it will hear you 'loud and clear.'"
I pushed the button and said, "Go ahead…speak." She spoke. It changed to night-time mode. She settled back into her chair and smiled, obviously pleased with her great accomplishment. My ears are still ringing.
[This whimsical banter occured during summer time]
Let's face it, all women are COLD!!! They are like addicts, never willing to admit they are one with the problem. It's always someone else with the problem.
"Close the window! It's freezing in here!" she commands.
"Honey," I respond, "it's 78 degrees in here."
"LIAR!!!" she accuses. "That thermostat obviously is broken."
Reluctantly, I turn up the temperature, mindful of the huge power bill I will receive in the near future.
My son walks into the room, totally unaware of our conversation. She turns her attention to him.
"I'm not the one with the problem! I'm normal!" she screams, as if to convince herself and those around her.
My son looks at me with a quizzical look. We both shrug our shoulders. He continues on, out of the room without saying a word.
Once one woman starts complaining, every other female within 50-100 feet joins in a cacophony of WHINE.
Could be why the band Foreigner released the song, "You're as cold as ice!" Some songs really have a double meaning.
A quick observation reveals she is not wearing any socks, and that she is wearing a thin top and pants. I don't claim to be a genius, but I suggest to her that she might want to put on some socks and a sweater.
"That's not going to help any!" she barks back. "You don't love me. You want me to freeze in this igloo!"
"Men!" she mutters, as she stomps off down the hall. "They are so insensitive to our needs."
I'm left speechless…and sweating.
I told her last night that the car was now probably infested with spiders. She said she dreamed about scary spiders last night. She threatened me that if I didn't get the car cleaned out today, she would 'WALK' to work.
I suggested she might want to try a different type of "threat" that holds some consequence or motivation for me. I responded, "Dress warmly!"
The furthering adventures of 'Life with my Wife!"
My wife and I are downstairs early this morning preparing and hanging decorations around as we wait for our son (his birthday is today) to wake up and come downstairs.
"Here," she commands, as she tosses me a package, "blow these up!"
It's a bag of balloons. Not just any balloons, but black balloons. Perceiving that not a lot planning or money was spent on decorations, I said, "These balloons are black! Aren't these left over from your 50th birthday party a few years ago?"
Rather than admit she didn't go out and buy any special color balloons, she began to justify her color choice.
"Black is a 'manly' color. It's just the color it should be!" she instructed me.
After both of us blowing up several of them, I walked over and started to dig through a few bags that she had pulled from the gift paper and decoration cabinet.
"Hey!" I countered, "Here's a bunch of purple balloons," as I pulled them from the bag.
Her back was to me as she was buttering some toast. Not wanting to admit she didn't put the money or time to get any other color, she repeated, "Black is a 'MANLY' color!" "Purple is NOT a 'MANLY' color!"
As she turned to me with a stern demeanor, she finalized her argument by declaring with authority, "No MAN would choose "PURPLE!!!"
She stopped short, with mouth gaping open. I just so happen to be wearing a purple T-Shirt (Washington Huskies color).
Stuttering, she responded, "Purp….Purple…is…uh..a…purple is a MANLY color as well. It would be great to have you add some purple balloons to the black ones."
I love my wife! Strong in conviction, unbending in resolve!
Shortly, thereafter, my son walks in. His face rubs against a number of long straw-colored yarn pieces that my wife had hung in the doorway that leads into the kitchen (her idea of birthday decorations).
"Oh!" he exclaimed with a puzzled look on his face. He slowly said, "That's in-ter-est-ing…hanging yarn?!!"
Without missing a beat, my wife chimes in, "Yeah! Yarn is MANLY!"
I roll my eyes and remained silent.
Every married man has a "honey-do" list from his wife (I'm sure their mothers included this as part of their womanly training). I tried giving my wife a 'honey-do' list once. Note the word "once."
Her head spun around like a possessed doll and she snarled, "What is this that you're giving me." I quickly grabbed it back and replied, "Nothing, love muffin."
If you're like most men (and I am), not a lot of the honey-do list ever gets done.
You know what I mean, guys. You come home after a long day at the office, there's little time (or incentive) after dinner. You just want to kick back, grab a cool drink and relax a little. Weekends aren't much better. Time is consumed by really important stuff, e.g. watching the game, working on the car or one your projects, shooting at the gun range, etc.
As far as my honey's "honey-do" list, I've often thought, "Your arms and legs aren't broken." Honey-do should mean, 'Honey (i.e., wife), why don't you do it." "I mean, after all this push for women's lib and you come to me with this stuff!" Can I hear an 'AMEN' men?!!!
If only this type of thinking would work in the real world. The reality is that mothers also taught their daughters (part of their womanly training) the gift of how to inflict guilt upon the man and how to play the role of a martyr. (Can I hear an 'AMEN' men?!!)
You'll hear, "Well Debbie's husband does…." You interrupt her quickly putting your hands over your ears. You say, "STOP….I know Debbie's husband…he doesn't."
Then she resorts to phrases like, "You don't love me…" or "You never…." or "You ain't gettin' dinner or _______ (you fill in the blank) until you…."
The last phrase is usually the deal-breaker.
One can only deal with this kind of nagging for so long. To quote the great American, Clint Eastwood, "A man's got to know his limits."
So effective this day forward, I shall take off each Monday from work and devote it to finishing up much of my honey's honey-do list. If there's one thing I've learned:
"Happy Wife, Happy Life!"
My wife used to constantly complain that she was the only one who ever changed the roll. No matter how I would try to defend myself, she would always say, "Yeah…right…prove it." Of course that was hard to do.
So I set my mind to provide demonstrative evidence to support my claims. To prove her wrong, over a long period of time I saved up and hid over 20 cardboard tubes from the rolls every time I changed it. My intention was that the next time I heard, "I'm the only one that ever changes the rolls around here," was to grab my stash, throw it down before her, and smugly declare, "NO! you're wrong! Take a look at this!" Surely, that would "silence" her.
I waited with anticipation, and waited, and waited, and waited and waited. Several months pass and still no accusatory statements from my beloved. My hidden stash grew larger and larger and became harder to hide. To my dismay, she failed to repeat her charge.
I came to the conclusion that the reason she wasn't complaining is because I had made a point to actually "change" the toilet rolls in order to gather them up to prove my point.
This exercise in futility proved her point, i.e. she didn't have to complain if someone else other than her WAS changing the rolls. I quietly and in private disposed of the evidence rolls.
Women use such devious methods to manipulate their husbands to do things for them. While thinking I was in control, it was actually her in control. Arrrgggggggggg!!!!