Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The Husband and I Should Not be Allowed in Public

The husband and I?  We're awesome.  Sincerely we are.  We ooze awesomeness.  Not ooze in the way an open wound oozes blood and puss and maggots.  Ew.  Ooze as in the way some people think Angelina Jolie oozes sex.  Personally, I think she oozes death.  Her skin is the most ugly shade of gray.  Not a lovely shade of gray like charcoal gray, but the shade of gray zombies are right before they turn green and their skin starts falling off.

We can all agree on this, yes?


Fine.  I will compromise.  Angelina Jolie oozes sexy death.  The least sexy death possible.

What you should take away from those last few sentences is that the awesomeness the husband and I ooze is greater than or equal to the least sexy death possible that Ms. Jolie oozes.  And it is this said awesomeness that will  make you want to hang out with the husband and I.  You'll want to invite us over for cocktails and caviar, introduce us to all your friends, save us a primo seat at the Kentucky Derby, serving us an endless supply of mint juleps, and take us out to dinner.

BUT DON'T.  Why?  Because minty drinks make me want to puke in your face.  And as awful as that sounds, that is nothing compared to the catastrophe that is the husband and I when we leave the safety of our padded-wall home.

Example?  Happy to oblige.

Last night the husband and I went to a sushi restaurant for dinner.  While we waited, I banged my chopsticks on the table to the off kilter beat of the voices in my head.  The sound was less than musical and only highly annoying to those around us.  Then the husband and I talked about how irritating children can be.  The husband launched into a monologue about how much he detests having his meal ruined by annoying kiddies.  He then asked if I thought he'd be a patient dad or just yell at our kids for the slightest infraction.

Me: I'll think you'll be patient.

The husband: No.  I'll yell at them.

He demonstrated by turning to the empty seat next to him and giving a two minute lecture, complete with teeth gritting and finger pointing, to our invisible child.

Me: The rest of the restaurant patrons think you look totally normal right now.

I returned to playing with the chopsticks.

Me: What letter is this?

The husband: L.

Me: Yes!  What letter is this?

The husband: V.

Then the teacher became the student.

The husband (making the letter T): what letter is this?

Me: A?

The husband: No.

Me: S?

The husband: No.

Me: P?

The husband: No, but it rhymes with P.

Me: C?  D?  V?  E? 

The husband: No, no, no, no.

Me: T?

The husband:  YES!

Much clapping and cheering ensued.

Next, I took the chopsticks and repeatedly rapped them on the husband's knuckles.  After several seconds, or minutes, of this, it occurred to me that this may hurt. I began rapping on my own knuckles.

It did not hurt.

I began rubbing the chopsticks together.

Me: Do you think I could start a fire with these?

The husband: No.

Me: Never?  What if I rubbed them together all day?

The husband:  No.


The food arrived and shortly after we launched into an argument, you know, for funsies.  He argued his point.  I argued mine.  He argued his.  I argued mine.  Back and forth we went until finally I said, "I don't remember what we were arguing about."

At some point during dinner I did or said something that made the husband respond, "I will stab you."

My mouth fell open and I stared at him all incredulous like.

The husband: Now you know what I have to listen to all the time.

Me: I am so honored.  I wore off on you and you are finally talking about stabbing.  And you took it to a whole new level.

The husband: What do you mean?

Me: I say 'I am going to stab you,' which means stabbing will commence right now.  You said 'I will stab you' which threatens a future stabbing at an undetermined time.  Wow.

The husband: Yeah.  Wow.

Me: I don't know why you're so against saying 'I'm going to stab you.'  It's an expression.  One no worse than saying I'm going to kill you.

The husband: It's worse.  Because you're describing the way in which you are going to kill someone.

Me: Not true.  You can stab someone without killing them.  Stabbing is much more thoughtful than killing. 

The husband: It's like someone saying I'm going to tie you to a chair, cut out your heart and shove it down your throat until you choke to death.

Me:  So it would be death by choking, not death by heart-being-ripped-from-chest?

The husband: ....yeah...

Me: I'm going to stab you is totally going to catch on.  In three years everyone's going to be saying it.

The husband: I feel like I just heard Paris Hilton talk about the next big catch phrase.

Me: Please don't insult me like that ever again.

After the greatest conversation in (as the bloggess says) the history of ever, we decided to have a staring contest, because this is totally normal behavior for two grown adults in a fine dining establishment.

After dinner the husband handed me the keys to his truck because he had two beers and we are responsible.  But actually? Me driving at night is rarely a good idea and me driving the truck at night is never a good idea.  Remember the bachelorette party?  The husband would be a better driver after consuming thirty-two beers than I would be totally sober driving the big-ass truck at night.

Why is this? Well, partially because it's so big (that's what she said! ahahahahahaha!) and partially because I like to play games whilst driving.

Example? Why of course I have an example!  So thoughtful of you to ask.

You know what?  I really don't feel like getting into it, but let's just say it involved circling the one way horseshoe shaped parking lots several times and the postal dude working a top secret operation at the post office next to the parking lot was all ????  And I was all, "should I back up and wave?  "Should I circle again and again?  Should I ask him how we get out of the parking lot?  Hee hee that would be hilarious."

The husband:  You should.  Totally hilarious.

I didn't, because I was afraid I would get pulled over for drunk driving and I'd be all, "I promise I wasn't drinking occifer,  Get it? I said occifer, like if I were actually drunk.  But I'm not.  Hilarious." But the occifer wouldn't, in fact, think it was hilarious and he'd be all "book em Dan-o" and I'd be all "who are you talking to?  there's no one there.  maybe you're the drunk one" and then I'd have to share a small cell with Zelda and it would not be awesome.

On the way home we decided we were going to stop the shenanigans and act like adults.

That lasted all of two seconds.

When we got home we read the works of Thoreau and discussed Quantum Physics, sipped seltzer and were the picture of decorum and civility. 

Or we watched South Park.

I'll let you decide.

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