Mitch $#@!steen needs to get his wife signed up for Pinterest. The stories would be worth it.
Mitch $#@!steen needs to get his wife signed up for Pinterest. The stories would be worth it.
Today I am glad that my wife doesn't know $#@! about anything "artsy".
We also ran into my gay friend at lunch. On the way home, my wife was giving me $#@! about how he wants to $#@! me, "Oh... for sure he's jacked off thinking about you." Thanks, hon. Now I need to go home and take a shower. At least she has as sick of a sense of humor as I do, otherwise she would be completely intolerable.
For the tl;dr crowd: Blah, blah, here's the $#@!ing birdcage:
Hahahahahahaha. The bit about her not remembering her password was a nice touch. At least she can't impulsively download eleventy apps at $2.99 a pop.
That birdcage...is $#@!ing hideous.
I have next-to-no taste, and even I know that birdcage is horrific.
I think I see Satan caged behind its wicked bars.
I will pray for you.
It will come as no surprise that I think a lot of the posts in this thread are whiny - just folks looking for $#@! to bitch about. Not so with Mitch. That is truly frightening. Did you say it's in your daughter's room? Is your kid having nightmares now?
dare i wonder what mitch's wife inflicts upon the family at christmas?
At night when my wife wants a snack, she'll usually make a piece of whole wheat toast with a little bit of butter (Country Crock) on it.
Before we headed to bed, she opened the fridge and her jaw hit the floor. She asked me to come look in the fridge and I didn't see anything weird, so she said, "the butter is back in the fridge again."
Come to find out, she's been noticing that the butter makes its way back to the fridge if she leaves it out. This happens on weekend mornings as well if we have toast or biscuits with breakfast. Blows her mind...it is almost as if we have some sort of butter fairy...
Tell her to look for legs on the jar. This is just insane.
Tell her the butter fairy has a price for his services and then hand her a tube of lube.
Yeah, my wife leaves dishes in the sink covered in food, and the dish fairy rinses them off and puts them in the dishwasher. She leaves bags of trash by the back door and the trash fairy takes them out to the trash cans.
Why does the fairy do this? Because his wife gives good head.
Buncha fairies around here...
15 seconds ago
wife is gathering up keys wallet and whatever $#@! she needs to go to the store while she is on her phone talking to her sister in law
she pauses to ask me if i have seen her phone
Happy with me she was not.
Wife walking around entire house, getting more exasperated and annoyed by the second (which means she's heading for a $#@!ty mood, which means I'm gonna catch $#@! no matter what).wheres my phone, wheres my purse, wheres my charger, wheres my sweatpants, wheres my whatever
Honey, can I help you find something?
I can't find that office phone number for Jane Smith . . . I wrote it on the back of one of my business cards, and I just can't find it (as she's flipping over sofa cushions and starting to cuss under her breath).
Jane Smith . . . isn't she the one who's an attorney at XYZ firm?
Yeah, that's her.
Well, here . . . let me just pull up their website on my iphone and I'll get her office number for you. (Me, foolishly thinking that I'm solving the problem. No. Not even close. I spotted the wrong problem).
Dammit, I know I can get her number off the internet! I just can't figure out how I lost that card, and I have to find it! I get so frustrated when I lose things! GODDAMIT! WHERE IS THAT CARD!
(this is about the time that I decide to go out on the patio or something for a while, to give her time to find the card, and then time to calm down).
This exercise has at times gone on for half an hour or more. Looking for a business card. Or a spilled cheerio. Or a cheap plastic bead. Or some other worthless, totally replaceable item, because IT'S NOT ABOUT THE THING I LOST, IT'S ABOUT THE FACT THAT I LOST IT!!!
I’ll throw my hat in the ring.
Last night I went to grocery store for the week. Of course I had to get various hair products and $#@! for her. When I get home she grabs that bag (plastic HEB bag) and takes it to our bedroom/bathroom in the back of the house to put her stuff up. After I’ve put up the other groceries I walk to the back of the house to do something in the bedroom and I notice the HEB sack in the middle of the hallway outside our bedroom. I do what I went back there to do and start heading back to living room in front of the house and start to walk by the sack again when the following conversation ensues:
Her: Are you really going to walk past that trash again without picking it up?
Me: Look at her with WTF look and ask where it came from (knowing damn good and well where it came from)
Her: It is the bag that had hair products, etc in it from HEB. I threw it out there to throw away later.
Me: Look at her with WTF look again, pick up bag (trust me, it is easier than discussing it further) and go throw it away
Her: Sarcastic Thanks (yep I’m still the $#@!)
Mind you, there is a perfectly good trash can in the bathroom not 3 feet away that could have been used and it would have been closer than where she had to walk to throw it in the hallway. Second of all why the $#@! did it get thrown on the ground? Either leave it on the bathroom counter until you are going to the kitchen (apparently the only trash can this bag is allowed to go in) or ask me to take it from the bathroom. And last, I know she had walked past it at least once without picking it up and yet it is my job to pick it up? I can’t tell you how many times she will walk past something several times and not pick it up and then make me the $#@! for not picking it up when I walk by it because I don’t care that the house looks like $#@!. CFW!!
Jiggy-Z is only 40 pages in, but I thought I would post this up now as I am inspired:
5 years ago we were putting in a concrete drive at our place and part of the layout was for a large circular turnaround about a large group of trees.
The forms were all set more or less as I had instructed, but I was not happy with the layout as I thought the radius was too tight for my diesel crew cab truck.
So I tested the radius by trying to drive my truck within the formwork-no go-it was too tight by a longshot.
No problem, I would have to have the crew move the forms in the morning.
I did not mention this earlier, but it comes to bear. I own a concrete construction company and we were doing the driveway, in fact we have done probably hundreds of them. Not to mention that at the time I had been driving that size truck for going on 6 years.
Wife comes home and says everything looks good, at which time I explain to her that the radius is not going to work and I will move it out in the morning-no big deal.
She says no there is plenty of room for my truck to get through there.
I say, no there is not.
Wife: Yes, there is.
Me: No there is not, I tried to drive it and its too tight.
Wife: There is no way that is too tight.
Me: (getting irritated) I am done discussing this, here are my keys if you want to try it out (she doesn't)
Wife: (Starting up again)There is plenty of room.
Me: Stop. Drive it if you don't believe me.
Wife: i just don't see how that is not enough for your truck.
Me: Well, it isn't. -and it goes on like this for another five minutes I kid you not.(At this point I am worried that I am going to do something violent so I storm off to the back of the property and pull an old cedar post out of the ground and proceed to beat the $#@! out of a poor defenseless tree-and hurl expletive at no one in particular)
I go back in the house some 20 minutes latter and she looks at me like a sane person looks at a crazy person and I know she thinks she is the one who has been wronged here.
Later on, she starts up again, only this time its about the elevation of the drive (my crew graded off the area and set the forms up, such that after completion, the edge of the drive would need to be back filled so there is a transition and no curb.) Wife wanted the drive dug in and installed flush with the existing ground-which by the way is never done except for water run off, not to mention that we are on solid rock.
She would not shut up about this, despite that this is what I do for a living.
Lest anyone think, my wife was just out of her element, she has an architectural degree, worked in commercial construction for over a decade, managed the construction of hundreds of millions of dollars worth of buildings, and also speaks fluent Norwegian.
I take that turn every day on that drive and just barely make it(even after moving the forms), and every day I am reminded that she is woman. Great gal, but that is the maddest she has ever made me+ in addition to the usual $#@! (poor cooking management, reality TV, not finishing books)
Did you say Norwegian?
Jiggy-Z, tread lightly. Norwegian wimmenz are known to chase husbands down the driveway with golf clubs.
so last weekend we moved, didn't have a ton of things but still a decent amount. all i asked of my fiance is that she pack small things, dvd's, dishes, clothes, etc. and i will take care of all of the heavy furniture and whatnot. she gets off work and i ask her to start packing while i am at work. she packs half a box of dvd's then decides she is too tired and goes to sleep. for 12 hours. next day the same thing. so it is the day of the move and i am $#@!ed on doing all of the work. she goes to work while me and my friends start moving everything.
instead of clothes being somewhat organized in the move i just say $#@! it and put them all in garbage bags so we can just be done with it. she gets off work and im done with all the big things but still need to make 5 or 6 more trips for all the small stuff. if we use both of our cars it can be knocked out in 3 trips. i talk her into driving out there with me and put her in charge of putting all her bathroom things in a box. while im in the kitchen packing dishes and gets the box of the bathroom stuff, one small box, gets in her car and goes to the new house. by the time i load up my car and get to the new house she is already laying down in bed. i start bringing things in and she tells me that i am making too much noise and that she needs rest. nevermind that she is off work the next 3 days, she needs rest now. i make 5 more trips and finish up everything staying up half the night. i am $#@!ing exhausted. she wakes up today and starts looking for a certain shirt that she just has to wear but can't find it cause its in one of the 8 trash bags full of clothes. then she has the nerve to tell me how much she hates moving.
BITCH YOU DIDN'T DO A $#@!ING THING EXCEPT PACK 15 DVD'S SOME TAMPONS, MAKEUP AND A TOOTHBRUSH, YOU DIDN'T MOVE $#@!!!!!111
This doesn't fall under stupid $#@! but more an amusing dream my wife told me about. Seems she had 2 dreams last night. The first one she was at a campaign rally that Rick Santorum was at. Not a big one mind you, more a stop in at a restaurant. My wife is a lib tard so she would never be at a Santorum tour stop. He was walking around talking to people when he got around to her. He asked her what she did for a living. She told him "marketing". He then took time out to tell the gathered crowd and media how my wife was to blame for everything that is wrong with this country because marketing makes us want all these bad things. If that wasn't weird enough, she then has a dream that she and I were at a concert (went to Radiohead last night) and that she kept bothering me while the band was playing. She said I then yelled at her because "THIS IS THE MIGHTY MIGHTY BOSSTONES AND THEY RARELY TOUR SO PLEASE STOP TALKING TO ME". So my wife had a dream about being accosted by Rick Santorum for being all that's wrong in this country and accosted by her husband because she was running my night with the Mighty Mighty Bosstones.
Yeah, Brasky . . . you've got problems. For super-real, not being funny on a funny thread. I'm talking a diagnosable condition that left untreated means you both are in for a world of $#@!.
100% serious. That ain't funny (well, it is) -- it's a sign of serious illness, mental or otherwise. Unless her job is "working in the fields from dawn till dusk," there is no reason to need that much sleep, particularly to the level that it prevents her from performing necessary tasks.
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