If I’ve learned one thing from my man’s recent knee surgery, it’s this:
The day he retires is the day I move out.
I mean, he’s sweet enough, all right. He’s my man, and he’s injured. I want to take care of him.
It’s just that… he can be so … ANNOYING.
BONNIE: Your omelet is right here, sweetie. And it’s a beauty. Here’s a fork and a napkin, too. You’re all set!
HUBBY: Thanks! It looks great! Um, you forgot the salt.
BONNIE: Right there beside you, dear.
HUBBY: Oh! Thanks. How about the pepper?
BONNIE: Next to the salt.
HUBBY: Boy, aren’t you efficient! Heh! And the coffee?
BONNIE: If that coffee pot was a snake, it woulda bit ya. Darling.
HUBBY: And the cream?
BONNIE: JUST LOOK AROUND FOR CRYING OUT LOUD CAN’T YOU SEE THE CREAM RIGHT BEHIND THE COFFEE POT????
HUBBY: Huffy, huffy! Okay, I see it. Thanks. And now… I’m looking… I’m looking… I’m looking… but I don’t see what I’m looking for…
BONNIE: Just tell me! What is it you want now?
HUBBY: The tabasco sauce?
BONNIE: ARRRRRGHHHHHHHH! (goes the refrigerator, gets the tabasco sauce, and slams it on the TV tray)
HUBBY: What? What’d I do?
When he’s slaving away in the office, he comes home and the laundry is done, dinner is ready, and the sweatshirt he left on the floor has mysteriously made its way back to a hanger in the closet.
But for some reason he seems to feel that since he’s home and can watch the process, the magic won’t work. Therefore, the household is going to fall apart unless he tells me how to do everything.
HUBBY: I was afraid we wouldn’t get up in time today so I set the alarm.
BONNIE: Really? I didn’t hear the alarm go off.
HUBBY: That’s because we got up on time after all! But then I forgot to turn the alarm off. I think it’s going off now. Would you mind going upstairs and turning it off?
BONNIE: Sure! (starts upstairs)
HUBBY: (calling from downstairs) There’s a little slider button on top of the alarm clock, right now it’s slid over to the position marked ON. You just slide it to the left, to where it says OFF.
BONNIE: I’m gonna kill him.
Lucky for me, I have several hours a day out of the house, where I wait at the pool for swim practice to finish, otherwise I might’ve committed Hubbicide this week.
HUBBY: Where are you right now?
BONNIE: I’m at the pool. Why?
HUBBY: Oh, nothing. I’m just wondering… are we going to eat dinner tonight?
HUBBY: What was that? I couldn’t hear what you said.
BONNIE: Of course we’re going to eat dinner! We eat dinner EVERY NIGHT!
HUBBY: How am I supposed to know that? You’re not home, nobody’s home, and nothing is cooking right now!
Oh lordy, I do hope I get a female judge.
Today’s Super Sabado is still about getting ready for holidays, because believe it or not, the whole world isn’t wrapped around Hubby and his knee surgery. Just MY little world.
Yesterday, I had what is probably one of my most brilliant ideas ever.
Spouses need to conduct yearly performance reviews.
Take a minute and let the genius of that sink in. Go ahead, I’ll wait.
Jaye, eyeing her man as she pulls on some rubber gloves. YEAH! JAYE! We think that is exactly what the world needs.
“I think next year, we’ll employ bungee cords. They should keep Lord of the Manor from getting out of the car while the rest of us grab a tree and secure it to the roof.
Or, perhaps duct tape would be the better choice.
Hmmm, we never would’ve thought of duct tape on our own, Ms. Karen, but duct tape might be the very thing we need around the Wren Casa right now!
The complainant indicated she and her husband decorated their first Christmas tree days beforehand while dancing to this song. Complainant’s husband denies any dancing was involved.
Crime and punishment over at Heather‘s house in the ‘shwa, where presumably she isn’t considering Hubbicide, just dancing lessons.
“This is why men need video games.”
Words of great wisdom from the mouth of Robin‘s babe KC.
To wit: experienced travellers/border guards/hunters on the run note the silence of animals and insects in the perilous forest, with much indrawn breath and alert eyes left, eyes right – who then proceed to forgetaboutit and la-la-la on their way into ambush.
Bernita, YA(wn)ing her way through what passes for 1970s adult fantasy.
Up until then, I thought Doris Day was my only competition. When I realized she and I were in the same boat and Rock Hudson was kayaking on a completely different lake it was an awakening of sorts.
Teri Grey Franta, for whom Disneyland was never the same.
There’s nothing like harvesting a tree in a blizzard or four-wheeling through the back woods and nearly plunging into a ravine to imprint the Christmas season indelibly in your mind…
Maybe not, Michelle, but this Christmas season has been indelibly imprinted on us anyway.
i’ve imagined killing my
heroine’s foe so many times,
in my mind and with words.
i saw this scene before most
of the others.
Hmmm, Cyn, your heroine’s foe didn’t happen to have had knee surgery, did he?
I’m glad you paid attention during our studies on human reproduction, but please stop taking Baby Jesus out of the manger and telling guests that he’s the size of a three month old fetus.
TC, and something she never thought she’d ever need to say to her children.
The Discworld Librarian is a wizard who was transmogrified into what primate?
A “Meme of one” from Jon.
Why do people say I don’t give a rats ass? Is giving a rats ass a good thing? Who’d want to receive a rats ass anyway?
Wander, pondering the imponderable.
In my experience, Santa nearly always bestows way more largesse upon the rich kids. I pointed this misrepresentation out to Dave, and he suggested that Santa seems to participate in a matching program, correlating his gifts to the parents’ contributions.
We think Vaguely Urban‘s Dave is a real smart guy, and probably knows better than to explain to his woman the difference between the ON and the OFF switch.
And then I noticed his arms were full of …well let’s say female products. I just looked at him and he showed me one of the boxes and said, “Is this pearl?”
Shop with LaurelWreath and you, too, might be accosted by a cowboy man looking for the right tampon.
They’re heeerrrrrree. ha.
Dink, for whom Christmas just would not be the same without the dead cat ornaments.
You know your life’s a bore when…
…your plans for Friday night are to mix up a pitcher of egg nog and snuggle before a warm computer to read the Annual Christmas Crapometer.
M.G. Tarquini‘s life doesn’t sound like a bore. It sounds great.
I sail home. I am singing loud and clear and Christmas carols are blasting. My hairdo is sassy. I’m kind of high. I land in the driveway, grab my bag, and head into the house. I glance down at the bag and notice…the contents…they ARE NOT MINE.
Susan, whose misfortune helped her dodge a Wisteria Lane bullet.
I bought him shoes. His were 2 sizes too small. I feel kind of bad, because I don’t want the other students to think I favor him.
A touching post from Mel.
“Quality Inn” doesn’t denote what type of quality you’re in for!
Tips on holiday travel from the GroovyOldLady.
Oh, and a word to my Beta Blogger friends….I CAN’T LOG ON TO YOUR BLOGS TO COMMENT!
Beta blogger is poop! Yikes did I say that…Yes I did….sheer frustration!
Bonnie Calhoun, still fighting the good fight against poop—er, uh, BLOGGER.
And then I saw the snow. As in snow machines pumping snow onto a large crowd of whirling, giggling kids (the grown-up kind, too). So, that’s kinda fun & Christmas-y, but what the hell was going on? No time to stop and investigate – we had a tree to pick out.
Just for the record, I’m not plagiarizing – I’m violating a copyright! Get over it.
Lesia, just making sure everybody’s clear on this.
There is one thing though that can kill a good time rather quickly, when I arrived home at about 10:00, both boys were still awake, watching TV with their father. Seriously!
Uh, oh! Erika‘s man is in big trouble!
Oh and another thing they lied about is they were saying that my husbands parents grow pot on their property. By the time that was brought up the judge wasn’t really listening because they had proved themselves to be liars.
Just to show you not everyone is having a blast running up and down the stairs fetching stuff for an injured husband, Squirrel had to go to court.
We’ve just gotten back from picking up our Marine son, Aaron… he’s home for Christmas. Next week, the girls will be down from North Carolina, so we’ll have a houseful (I know, I know.. I’ve told y’all that already!)
Judy’s World of Dreams becomes even dreamier.
Meet Will and Power… as they run out the door.
She of the expanding waistline, Kristen! Our sister in chaotic cookie consumption.
Incidentally, if you overdo the lentils and have the esplosioni the next day, your fortune doesn’t seem to be affected.
Is Welshcakes Limoncello saying what we THINK she’s saying?
The two swans in our hamlet’s pond had a cygnet this spring. I don’t know what happened to it, but it’s no longer there. What we have are two white ducks or young geese that follow the swans around as if they have been adopted. If someone has an answer to this, please leave a comment.
Steve G with a holiday mystery for someone to solve.
And for those of you who’ve stayed until the very end, here’s something I wasn’t going to post at first, because it seemed kind of mean.
That was two days ago, before I got the explanation about how the ON/OFF switch works, and now it doesn’t seem mean enough. But just to be fair to you guys, you can watch this commercial instead, which is pretty dang mean all on its own.