Monkee

Out of Left Field

Me:  Have a Claritin.  It's non-drowsy.

 

The Husband:  My ass in non-drowsy.  In fact, it's the opposite of drowsy.  It wakes you up, baby!

 

Me:  ...

 

And now your baby of zen.

 

 

It takes mad skillz...

The Husband has an extremely annoying habit of needing to share unpleasant information.  Granted, sometimes that information is pertinent and thus, there really is no avoiding it, but while I find the information itself unfortunate, it’s the presentation that really gets me.  Say, for example, when I’m in the bathroom and he comes to the door to share the morning updates.

           

            The Husband:  Honey?

 

            Me:  Yeah?

 

The Husband:  Let me know before you open the door because I’m right outside here cleaning up a hairball.

 

            Me:  Okay.

 

The Husband:  Oh, and Bean is sitting out here.  He really wants to come in and he looks so sad.

 

            Me:  I’ll be out soon.  He’ll be fine.

 

            The Husband:  Honey?

 

            Me:  Yes?

 

The Husband:  I just wanted to let you know that I accidentally broke a bowl this morning.

 

            Me:  That’s fine.

 

            The Husband:  Well, I dropped it and it chipped a tile.

 

            Me:  We’ll take care of that later.  Can you just give me a minute.

 

The Husband:  Oh, alright…Oh hey, I forgot to tell you, I still haven’t finished the taxes.

           

Me:  What?

 

            The Husband: The taxes.  I need to work on that tonight.

 

            Me:  You’re kidding me.

           

            The Husband:  No, you don’t mind, right?

 

            Me:  Will you finish it tonight?

 

            The Husband:  Probably not.  I have a lot left to do.

 

            Me:  Let’s talk about this later.

 

            The Husband:…Do you smell smoke?

 

            Me:  Excuse me?

 

            The Husband:  I’m just wondering if you smelled smoke.

 

            Me:  Why?

 

            The Husband:  No reason…you didn’t want to make any toast today did you?

           

            Me:  No.

 

            The Husband:  Okay….Hey, we should get a new toaster.

 

            Me:  What happened to the other one?

 

The Husband:  Oh, nothing.  I’ll be right back.  I have to take something out to the garbage.

 

            Me:  Is that the smoke detector?

 

            The Husband:  Be right back!

 

*************************

           

            The Husband:  I’m back.

 

            Me:  Great.

 

            The Husband:  You remember that stray cat I thought was really fat?

 

            Me:  Yeah.

 

            The Husband:  She just showed up with three dozen kittens.

 

            Me:  ….

 

            The Husband:  And that other stray cat peed in the garage again.

 

            Me:  Fine.

           

            The Husband:  Actually, it was in the car.  I had left it open for a sec.

 

            Me:  Whatever.

 

            The Husband:  In your seat.

 

            Me:  I don’t care.

 

            The Husband:  And he pooed a little.

 

            Me: …

 

            The Husband:  Honey?

 

            Me: …

 

            The Husband:  Maryam?

 

            Me: …

 

            The Husband:  What’s the matter?

 

And now your baby of zen!

 

Master Negotiator

I love Christmas.  I really do.  If I could pack up little bundles of Christmas and store them to be rationed out through the year, I would.  If I could dive into a giant tub of Christmas and roll around in it like a pig in slop, I would do that too.  Despite all of that, nothing could have made me happier today than finally getting to take down all of the Christmas decorations and return to life as normal.  It turns out, having hundreds and hundreds of yards of dark green foliage in a house that is generally all about bright, fun colors can start to be a real downer after a while.  When it got to the point that looking at the Christmas tree made me want to start painting my fingernails black and listening to The Cure, I knew it was time to go.  Of course, once I start something like this, I’m never satisfied, so the minute the decorations started coming down, I started planning the next project.  The trick was trying to get The Husband to go along with it. 

I definitely need more bookshelf space.  I think we’re going to have to build a wall of shelving to go around the TV.  That should be enough…for now.  Oh, and wouldn’t that look nice with a little bench seat right next to it under the window? 

Stop making that face.  I didn’t say I was NEVER going to start another project again.  I said I was never going to do THAT project again. 

What do you mean, that’s stupid?  Of course, it makes sense.  We might have needed another six-foot tall, four-foot wide bookshelf, but I’m not going to do it again because now I know better.  Look, maybe it’s just time to do a little rearranging.  I think a leather club chair and a little side table would be wonderful in that corner. 

No, not the one from our bedroom. 

Not the one from the living room either.  I mean a NEW leather club chair and table.  I should really finish putting up the pictures in our bedroom.  We’re going to need frames. 

I’m not sure how many.  Maybe ten.

 It’s a GROUPING.  Why do I have to explain everything to you?  We should get some colorful artwork for the wall in the nook, too.

Now this spare bedroom, what can we do with that?  I’m tired of this being wasted space.  We don’t need any of this stuff anymore. 

I know it’s your stuff.  I’m not blind.  Let’s get rid of it all and start over.  We could put a comfy chair in that corner – a NEW comfy chair – and a little bookshelf in this corner.  Maybe a crib would look nice under the window. 

Yeah, a crib.  Well, the Pottery Barn Kids catalog came out and I was walking through Target the other day and they have their spring dresses.  I found the perfect little dress that would look so nice on a little brunette baby. 

Get up off the floor and stop groaning.  You’re being dramatic.  How about a baseball theme if you’d prefer?  I saw the cutest sports team crib bedding in that same catalog.  I think it would look really cute with the right drapes. 

You’re not allergic to baseball.

You’re not allergic to drapes either.  I was thinking maybe we could just browse a furniture store.  You know it’s so hard to find just the right changing table.  Wait, where are you going?  Alright, alright, just get me a new leather club chair for the family room and we’ll call it even.

Hopelessly Retarded

The Husband:  Where should we go for dinner tonight?

 

Me:  ….

 

The Husband:  Honey?

 

Me:  ….

 

The Husband:  Hello?

 

Me:  Oh, what?  Yeah, that’s fine.  I’m sorry I was just…

 

The Husband:  What?

 

Me:  ….

 

The Husband:  Just what?

 

Me:  ….um…singing “You’re The One That I Want”  in my head.

 

The Husband:  The song from Grease?

 

Me:  uh huh

 

The Husband:  ….

So, Valentine's Day, huh? How 'bout that?

My family has never been very big on Valentine’s Day or, um, holidays and, unlike Christmas, which I now cling to like it was the last Jell-O shooter at the family reunion, I essentially consider all of the other holidays to be members of two holiday groups Noworkmikah and Whogivesarat’sassoween.  Now the Noworkmikah holidays I still manage to get into the spirit for.  Memorial Day, Labor Day: these are near and dear to my heart.  I totally subscribe to and support, you know, whatever they’re about.  The other holidays, St. Patrick’s Day, Valentine’s Day: these are a waste of time, money, effort, and energy and since I can’t milk them for any personal benefits, I have no use for them.

All that aside, when The Husband and I were The Boyfriend and I we did attempt Valentine’s Day a couple of times.  The first year we each snuck off to the store to stock up on the usual cards and candy and whatnot and met up that evening at my apartment to hurl pink, candied globs of Hallmark sentimentality all over each other.  It was sickening.  The second year we drifted somewhat.  Having realized that the card and candy companies had brutally molested our wallets the previous year and having spent countless hours counseling hysterical leather billfolds about not letting anyone touch their special places, we decided to try a different route.  We got each other presents we really wanted, but being in college still at the time and not exactly the most sophisticated creatures, that meant I got him Legos and he got me a videogame and we spent a blissful evening mutually ignoring each other in favor of our childish entertainments…ah, Amore!  The third and final year that we did Valentine’s Day, the whole process had completely disintegrated.  A few weeks before the Day, we needed something for the house, something relatively frivolous, like curtains or other decorative bric-a-brac.  It was relatively expensive and we needed a way to justify the purchase so we decided it was our Valentine’s Day present to each other.  Most likely, this became one of the many MANY things the cats have eventually destroyed, peed on, or claimed and thus concluded our attempts to conform to the designated day of love.

To those of you who have managed to salvage the romance. (HA!) I wish you a very Happy Valentine’s Day.  To the rest of you, you know, the non-imaginary ones, I tip my pint of ice cream to you and hope your respective sweatpants keep you and yours good company in front of the boob tube tonight.  Ours will.

Another snippet of conversation.

Me:  Ow!  You hurt my foot.

 

The Husband:  How?

 

Me:  You stepped on me with your sandpaper toes.

 

The Husband:  I don’t have sandpaper toes!  I have soft, luscious man toes.

 

Me:  (clickity clackity keyboard noises)

 

The Husband:  You’re not posting that are you?

 

 

The Master Race

Me:  (As I’m making the necklace favors for the baby shower.)  See, I’m even taking the time to make sure the clasp is on the right to make it easier to put on.

 

The Husband:  Are there no lefties coming?

 

Me:  (Pause.)  See, I’m even taking the time to discriminate against left-handed people.

 

The Husband:  You’re very thoughtful like that.

 

What I put up with.

Me:  Is there a funeral out there now?

 

The Husband:  (Looking out the window.)  Aye, there be mourners here.

 

ME:  (Pause) So, you’re a pirate now?

 

The Husband:  Arrrr.

 

See also; what he puts up with.

That'll work.

“I don’t know what I’m going to write about tonight.  Why don’t you ever say anything funny anymore?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Say something about sheep testicles.”

 

“Sheep testicles? Did you say sheep testicles?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Like sheep?  Like bah bah?  Like sheep testicles?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

<Pause>  “Do sheep have testicles?”

The Husband

The Husband:  Honey?

 

Me:  Yeah.

 

The Husband:  Do roosters have testicles?

 

Me:  (Pause) Yes, yes they do.

 

The Husband:  Thank you.

 

Me:  I'm glad we had this talk.

 

The Husband:  Me, too.