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There’s a Velociraptor in the Bushes: Why I don’t walk the Dog

I was trying to be a good wife. Whatever that means. Good by whose standards, I don’t know. Matt was laid up on the couch, bemoaning the plague that had befallen him and rendered him utterly useless. In woman terms- he had the sniffles. Being the aforementioned good wife, I let him continue sleeping and drooling on the couch one night last week and took Bailey out for a walk myself at 10pm. I hate walking the dog- he can’t walk straight. You’d think I’ve been spiking his water bowl with Gin the way he weaves and turns circles and gets himself all tied up in the leash. Gah.

Now our neighborhood has been under a coyote watch for weeks. There have been several sightings on our street alone. For this reason Matt has been carrying a large stick with him whenever he walks the dog in the dark. So I grabbed the stick and we set off on our walk- me in my nightie (read: oversized t-shirt reject from Matt’s college days), and slippers, carrying a large stick. What can I say, I like to keep it classy.

We walked to the end of our street and Bailey found a bush in which to do his business. All of a sudden the street light started to flicker and then….total darkness. Complete and utter pitch black darkness. I froze, eyes darting around trying desperately to adjust to the sudden absence of light. I tugged on the leash, hoping to hurry the dog along. I mean really, why does it take him so long to take a dump? What is he waiting for? It’s not like he’s trying to finish the newspaper or hide from the kids.

I was about ready to yell at the dog to hurry the hell up when I heard a faint rustling. Then a louder rustling coming from the bushes directly in front of me. I froze, adjusting my grasp on the big stick just in case. Silence. One second, two seconds, three seconds…..I almost peed my pants when the whole bush started moving and the rustling got louder.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

That was the sound of me screaming like a school girl as I threw the stick at the bush and took off running like a little bitch, dragging the poor dog out of the bush. I ran so fast that I ran out of my slippers. I didn’t stop to grab them, I just hitched up my shirt and ran even faster- flashing the whole street a glimpse of my lacy boy shorts. I was halfway home before I glanced back and noticed that I had interrupted Bailey right in the middle of his business. He was still hunched in the poopin’ squat position as he tried to finish while running to keep up with me. I’m ashamed to say that I did not stop and allow the dog to finish his constitutional. But don’t worry, karma is truly a bitch because he somehow managed to run a circle around me and tangle his leash around my legs ensuring that the next stride I took landed me flat on my face in the wet grass of my own front lawn.

I can only assume that I was making enough noise to wake the dead because next thing I knew the flood light was illuminating our entire front lawn. Matt stuck his head out the door and saw me sprawled across the front yard with my t-shirt hiked up and Bailey licking my face. The naughty words I was yelling at the dog must have reassured him that I was alive and unharmed because he shut the door immediately, apparently unwilling to be seen with his half naked wife wearing a dog leash on the front lawn.

I eventually untangled myself and limped into the house barefoot, with wet grass clippings stuck to my now damp t-shirt and mulch in my hair. I shall not repeat the words that came out of my mouth when Matt had the nerve to ask about his big stick. But I do believe that I painted a very vivid image for him of what he could do with said big stick. Then I poured a very large glass of red wine and drowned my irritation in a nice hot bubble bath.

I went out the next morning to retrieve my slippers and the big stick, neither of which I was able to locate. I also never found out for sure what was in the bushes. I’m choosing to believe it was a Velociraptor and it ate my slippers and probably the big stick too. I am never walking the dog again.



He Said, She Said: Lemon Pledge and Oppression

{You know all those funny and/or stupid little moments that happen in every marriage but nobody ever talks about? Well welcome to He Said, She Said: True Stories where I give you an unprecedented glimpse inside the marital dysfunction. Your welcome.}

Setting the Scene: I spent a good part of the weekend on Mission: Spring Cleaning and while I tackled the storage closet, the laundry area and the kitchen counters all by myself, Matt worked out for an hour, played video games with Mase and then took a nap. The following conversation took place when he awoke from his slumber and hoisted himself off the couch to see what I was doing.

He Said: Wow the closet looks great. It’s so organized. I can actually see the floor for a change.

She Said: Humph.

He Said: What? What’s that mean?

She Said: That means it better look good for the amount of work I just put into cleaning it out.

He Said: Oh…..

She Said: I mean, while you were busy with your work out, your video games and oh, yeah… your nap.

He Said: Well you did a great job and it looks so good. Thanks for doing it.

She Said: You’re welcome.

He Said: What’s for dinner?

She Said: Whatever you want to go out and get. I’m not messing up my nice clean kitchen with cooking.

He Said: I’ll go grab a pizza.

He leaned in for a quick hug and took a good long sniff.

He Said: Mmm. You smell good. What is that?

She Said: Oh you mean the lemon pledge and oppression?

He Said: That must be it.

The End.



10 Things a Man Should Know About Women

In honor of International Women’s Day last week, I asked Matt to help me come up with a list of 10 Things about Women. He was hesitant for obvious reasons but once I offered him full immunity on what he had to say he started spouting things out so fast that I couldn’t keep up with him. Apparently he’s been keeping some feelings pent up for awhile. I’m sure he feels better now that he got to release them.

Matt’s Top 10 Things a Man Should Know About Women:

1. When a woman asks you what you want for dinner the only right answer is ‘Whatever you want me to pick up’. Don’t make the mistake of assuming she’s asking what you want her to cook. She’s not.

2. It does not matter what you say when a woman asks you if she looks fat or if a particular pair of jeans make her butt look big. There is no right answer to these questions. It’s a trap. Play deaf and run away.

3. When your wife is at home with the kids all day and asks you what time you will be home from work, think carefully before answering. If you say 30 minutes rest assured she is setting the timer as you speak. If you show up over an hour late you’d better be carrying a bottle of wine and something shiny that sparkles.

4. The characters on television shows are real life people as far as a woman is concerned. Making jokes about McDreamy or that crazy chick on Desperate Housewives will get you the stink eye. You will be expected to watch these shows along side your wife in what will be referred to as ‘quality time’. Don’t bother fighting it.

5. Volunteering to help with the laundry is a nice gesture but be warned that you will be expected to follow through on that offer. Screwing up the job by throwing your wife’s brand new cashmere sweater and lacy underthings in the dryer will not get you out of laundry duty in the future. It will however ensure that the credit card gets maxed out when she goes out to replace the items you ruined.

6. Women are devious creatures. They have ways of making you do things that you didn’t want to do and somehow you end up thinking it was your idea to do those things in the first place. A woman’s brain is a mysterious and wondrous place….and oh so terrifying.

7. When you’ve been married for a long time you will begin to realize that you have been trained. You won’t see it happening but one day as you are getting out of bed in the middle of the night to adjust the thermostat because your wife has woken you up complaining of being cold you will realize that you have been trained. By then it’s too late to halt the training process.

8. Never get in the middle of the drama that seems to happen in women’s friendships. Steer clear. Listen with open ears and a closed mouth when your wife wants to vent. Your natural inclination will be to take your wife’s side and object loudly to whatever perceived insult she has suffered. Resist the urge. Inevitably the women will make up and move on but your wife will remember what you said about her friend in the heat of the battle. It will come back to bite you in the ass.

9. Your wife is always right. Just accept it as fact. You can either fight to be right or you can be happy but rarely can you be both. And if being right makes your wife happy then maybe she’ll feel like making you happy. But only on certain days of the month, if she shaved her legs and ate a small dinner. And the stars align perfectly with the sun and moon to form what is known as your golden moment.

10. After you have children your wife will have an advantage in every single fight that you will ever have. No matter how right you are or how persuasively you argue your point, you cannot trump childbirth. Once she pulls the ‘Oh yeah, well I pushed 3 babies out of my vagina’ card, the fight is effectively over. You cannot beat that.

So there you have it, straight from Matt, 10 Things that a Man Should Know About Women. I’m already regretting that whole immunity clause.

Linked up with Monday Listicles, Tuesday Tens, Top Ten Tuesday




He Said, She Said: The Flu

{You know all those funny and/or stupid little moments that happen in every marriage but nobody ever talks about? Well welcome to He Said, She Said: True Stories where I give you an unprecedented glimpse inside the marital dysfunction. Your welcome.}

Setting the Scene: Last week I had the flu. It was ugly. Matt had an unavoidable meeting at work that could not be rescheduled so I was at home alone with the kids all day. Again, it was ugly. I retreated to the bedroom to die in peace when he did finally make it home to take over parenthood duties. The following took place over a 30 minute time period. I wish I was joking.

He Said: (Opening the bedroom door) Should I let the kids have cereal for dinner or do I have to cook something?

She Said: I don’t care.

(Door closes).

3 minutes later.

He Said: They don’t want cereal, they want pancakes. Do we have any of that mix?

She Said: I don’t know.

(Door closes).

A minute later.

He Said: I’m just going to run to McD’s and grab some burgers. Do you want anything?

She Said: I want death. I just want to die.

(Door closes).

The children scream and fight for the entire 10 minutes that he is gone. I finally have to drag myself out of bed and go downstairs to referee the cage match that was erupting. Matt returned a few minutes after I crawled down the stairs and collapsed in a heap on the couch.

He Said: Oh you’re up, did you enjoy your break? Feel better?

She Said: (Glaring at him from underneath the one eyelid that was not too sick to open) Seriously? Is that a joke?

He Said: I didn’t get you anything because I thought you’d be sleeping.

She Said: @$#@*&  #$@*&^

The End.



He Said, She Said: Thank You Notes

{You know all those funny and/or stupid little moments that happen in every marriage but nobody ever talks about? Well welcome to He Said, She Said: True Stories where I give you an unprecedented glimpse inside the marital dysfunction. Your welcome.}

Setting the Scene: My Mother-in-Law bet my 11 year old $10 that he couldn’t answer 5 math questions in 1 minute. He did and got them all right. She sent the $10. This conversation took place when I found out she wanted a thank you note for sending the money that she owed my kid.
He Said: My mom sent that $10 that she owed Ty.
She Said: What $10?
He Said: Remember she bet him $10 that he couldn’t answer 10 math questions in 1 minute. And he did.
She Said: Oh. Ok.
He Said: She sent a stamp and a self addressed envelope so he could send a thank you note.
She Said: I’m sorry, what? She wants a thank you note?
He Said: Apparently.
She Said: Why? She bet him money that he couldn’t answer 5 questions and he did. She owes him that $10.
He Said: I know.
She Said: He is not sending a thank you note.
He Said: What’s the big deal?
She Said: Do you think the bookies in Vegas send thank you notes to the degenerates who settle their debts?
He Said: Well, no.
She Said: Exactly.
He Said: She’ll be upset if she doesn’t get a thank you note.
She Said: Don’t worry about it, she’s going to get one.
He Said: That terrifies me.
The End.
Today I sent her that thank you note. I wonder if it will get posted on the fridge with the rest of the stuff she likes to show off to her friends. I’m thinking probably not.
Dear Mother-in-Law,
Thank you for encouraging and enabling my kid to enhance his gambling skills. Thank you for implying that our parenting skills are somehow lacking by including the stamped and self addressed envelope for your own thank you note. Thank you for giving me yet another opportunity to use you as a bad example for proper etiquette.

Gratefully,
Daughter-in-Law
FTR- I am not opposed to thank you notes. My kids send them regularly, when it’s appropriate. I don’t consider settling a gambling debt to be an appropriate time to send a thank you.