@Rick.Felt: Wow! Hit the nail on the F'n head. Wives complain all the time about how their husband used to do things but never look back and compare that with BJ's. I love how we are supposed to take out trash or rub their feet with out being asked but when it comes the BJ's women hate to be asked. "I just want to do it when I feel like doing it." Which turns out to be never. Try using that excuse with the trash.
Wife: Can you please take out the trash?
Husband: I don't like it when you ask me to take out the trash. I love taking out the trash but I want to do it when I chose to do it (this now means that I will not take out the trash for at least 6 months and if I am asked again then it will be even longer).
@asliceofbacon: I had a female roommate in college, she told me I had to put the seat down so she wouldn’t sit on the rim. Obviously I asked "don’t you look?" She said "not always." Naturally this surprised me, so I decided to always put the LID down and see how that went. A few months later I left the seat up and, as I thought, she had something to say about it. I politely pointed out that I had been putting the lid down all this time and if she had no problem lifting the lid why should it be a problem to put the seat down? That shut her up for a while.
@StuperFan: Shoulda been thankful you put the fuckin' seat UP in the first place. I ever get complaints about leaving the seat up, I'll be leaving it down while I spray all over it.
@Mr. Praline: As an android, do you ever have problems conceptualizing "love," or are context clues from media and humans around you enough to help you get the gist of it?
@SavetoFavorites: Mr. Praline is currently experiencing the so-called Blush Response, as well as fluctuation of the pupil and involuntary dilation of the iris.
In defense of wives, sometimes we ARE annoyed you're not proactive enough because your lack of pro-activity holds us up from the fun time you seem to be having.
Last night I was making potato leek soup for dinner. I just had finished peeling the potatoes, went over to the trash to throw away the skins, and husband yells excitedly from the living room, "Hey, you have to see this!" about something stupid in the Oregon-Oregon State game. Well guess what, I cannot come right out because the effing trash is full and I have handfuls of sopping wet potato peels in my hands! Wish I could come right out and have fun, but someone has to deal with this mess. If you would have emptied the trash earlier, I could have dumped the peels and seen the play DAMMIT MAKE YOUR OWN DINNER.
(In husband's defense, he realized by the tone of "MY HANDS ARE FULL" he needed to pause the game and take out the trash.)
@TheStarterWife: Aah, there is your mistake. Who acutally cooks food on Thursday to Sunday when the game (any game) is on? That is what Chinese takeout and the frozen dinner-in-a-bag is good for.
A good trick: just make up shit that you've "done" and throw them out from time to time. It needs to be unpromted. Examples: "Honey, I spent a few hours yesterday getting the carbon diode out of your fuel capacitor, and it was lucky I did or you're pistons would've been shot." "Man, the gutters are working so much better since I fragmented the a-frames on them, it was worth my afternoon last (insert day she won't remember)." Use these sparingly, but I've found it prevents or at least forestalls the usual nagging.
@Silent Q: @Dany Heatley Speedwagon: See, your mistake was getting your CPA. I am getting my MBA, while not easy by any stretch, it is not quite as mind-numbing....
Also, men, surround yourself with friends that hunt, fish, and golf all time and are never home. You can use it to throw in your wife's face when she starts bitching.
@Hustler of Culture: What the fuck do you even need stamps for? The last thing I mailed was wedding invitations so since we've been married that would be zero things. You've heard of online bill payments?
@Dany Heatley Speedwagon: Every like 4-5 months there is something I need to mail. I am with you on autopayments, a single book of checks will last me years and years...
You actually have it good, believe it or not. I'm married to a messy girl, and having to handle all those boring domestic tasks myself totally blows.
Seriously, she's like a 35% trash shooter, and goes for fewer rebounds than Shawn Bradley. And that's the easy stuff.
Oh, and that angry reminder thing your wife does -- where you then do the task she's angry about -- doesn't work on women. They just get hurt and fake cry or pout or whatever, but don't actually do the task.
@Clarence Rosario: Does she leave the kitchen cabinets open after she takes something out of them? Does she open up a bag and leave the plastic strip lying around? Are there half-drank glasses of water scattered?
@Clarence Rosario: Don't get me wrong, living with the possible future Mrs. Bigglesworth has been great. She does the laundry, no questions, often hits the grocery (on Sundays) alone, and cleans the bathroom on the regular.
But I'm just saying. If she doesn't close the fucking cabinets when she's done with them, I'm going to give myself an aneurysm.
@Muggs Bigglesworth: I'm one of those guys that cooks and has planted the flag in the kitchen, claiming it as my domain. Sometimes, if I'm doing something big, like baking, I'll do my own dishes, because like a mechanic is to his wrenches or a carpenter his chisels, I don't mind caring for my tools, and there's a way the mixer or the food processer needs to be washed, you know?
Then I come in later and my otherwise lovely, smart, sweet and wonderful girlfriend has placed a dirty dish, or an empty container of chocolate milk in the sink in the formerly pristine kitchen. That's an eye-twitch/temple vein throb moment.
@David Hume: She spent a large portion of yesterday cleaning. Scrubbing the bathroom, sweeping the bedroom, putting odds and ends away. I felt kind of guilty. The dishes were done, the sink was spotless.
Garbage and recycling are my domain. I do them every week, I sort, I bag, I take it all to the garage. It gets done and never a compliment but also never a complaint so I'm cool. HOWEVER when the wifey is home alone and has to take something outside to the blue bin does she sort it at all? FUCK NO. She will take a box from whatever and it's still filled with styrofoam and packing plastic and all that shit and the box isn't broken down and she'll just throw it in the blue box. I go out to sort for garbage in the freezing cold the night before and what the fuck do I find but a box full of fucking shit taking up all the space in the goddamned blue bin and I have to spend 5 minutes freezing my balls off to break it up and shit. EVERY FUCKING TIME SHE DOES IT I tell her politely you can't do that. Does she listen... no.But I get the proactive fucking speech all the time. Guess what, preparing the trash before it goes to the curb is being motherfucking proactive!
@Dany Heatley Speedwagon: It makes me want to shake a bitch when there is a large box taking up all of the space in the trash bin. When I open it there is nothing but air inside. I take the trash out but it seems that everytime I am out of town or something she finds a large box to throw away.
12/05/09
/devito'd
12/04/09
Your answer should be
You: Well I shouldnt have to ask you for a blowjob either, you know when the last time you gave me one and realize i need another
12/04/09
Wife: Can you please take out the trash?
Husband: I don't like it when you ask me to take out the trash. I love taking out the trash but I want to do it when I chose to do it (this now means that I will not take out the trash for at least 6 months and if I am asked again then it will be even longer).
12/04/09
12/04/09
12/06/09
How's that, honey?
12/04/09
12/04/09
...But it might also be because Mrs. Praline is a psychiatrist.
12/04/09
12/04/09
...you bastard.
12/04/09
Last night I was making potato leek soup for dinner. I just had finished peeling the potatoes, went over to the trash to throw away the skins, and husband yells excitedly from the living room, "Hey, you have to see this!" about something stupid in the Oregon-Oregon State game. Well guess what, I cannot come right out because the effing trash is full and I have handfuls of sopping wet potato peels in my hands! Wish I could come right out and have fun, but someone has to deal with this mess. If you would have emptied the trash earlier, I could have dumped the peels and seen the play DAMMIT MAKE YOUR OWN DINNER.
(In husband's defense, he realized by the tone of "MY HANDS ARE FULL" he needed to pause the game and take out the trash.)
12/04/09
Bad wife!
/ Ducks meat clever thrown at head
12/04/09
12/04/09
/takes out garbage and shuts up...
12/04/09
@Barb-A-Rod: What world is this? 6pm means still at the office.
@VegasWasteland: Would like to live past 45. (Plus, I write about cooking for football, so there is that.)
12/04/09
You know, just long-term self-embalming? Mmm preservatives!
/Panda Express'd
12/04/09
12/04/09
That day does not exist. They remember every day. EVERY. DAY. Especially the ones where you didn't actually do anythying.
12/04/09
12/04/09
12/04/09
/kill me
12/04/09
/up before dawn every day to study for CPA exam before work
12/04/09
12/04/09
12/04/09
12/04/09
If Mrs. HoC didn't have stamps, I would never, EVER actually mail anything. I would just be incapable of it...
12/04/09
12/04/09
12/04/09
12/04/09
Me: (5 minutes after noticing the wife is doing [menial task x]): "Do you want me to help with [menial task x]?"
Her: "no, that's fine"
/not really fine, if you had to ask it's too late.
12/04/09
Please get out of my head.
Sincerely,
Chamomiles Davis
12/04/09
and Phintastic.
12/04/09
Seriously, she's like a 35% trash shooter, and goes for fewer rebounds than Shawn Bradley. And that's the easy stuff.
Oh, and that angry reminder thing your wife does -- where you then do the task she's angry about -- doesn't work on women. They just get hurt and fake cry or pout or whatever, but don't actually do the task.
12/04/09
12/04/09
FULL DISCLOSURE: Not married.
12/04/09
12/04/09
But I'm just saying. If she doesn't close the fucking cabinets when she's done with them, I'm going to give myself an aneurysm.
12/04/09
Then I come in later and my otherwise lovely, smart, sweet and wonderful girlfriend has placed a dirty dish, or an empty container of chocolate milk in the sink in the formerly pristine kitchen. That's an eye-twitch/temple vein throb moment.
12/07/09
Then, this morning, there was a bowl in the sink.
Rage.
12/04/09
12/04/09