Tag Archives: men

Never let your husband bag the groceries.

 

We had to run to the grocery store for a prescription last night and I figured while we were there I’d pick up a few things.

They were still out of paper products, water and flour….

 

 

 

But all I wanted was fresh fruit and veggies anyway.

When we got to the check out line…. with the reusable bags no Mainer is ever without… we were told a new policy of self bagging had been implemented, so the husband happily jumped right in.

Yes, he put the bananas on top of the bread… and the apples on top of the lettuce but it wasn’t until we got home that the real fun began.

Did I buy oil?

No, but a large bottle came home with us.

Did I buy pistachios?

No, but they came home with us as well.

And while it was bad enough the husband rounded up and bagged someone else’s groceries? He also packed this in our bag….

 

 

Hand sanitizer.

But not another shopper’s sanitizer.

No….

 

 

He lifted one of the store use bottles they keep at each register.

Do not let your husband bag groceries.

Really…

Don’t.

Cape Cod trip, Day 1. Boston traffic, the resort and yes, food. (for those of you who keep screaming for food pics)

 

No trip south of Maine can escape Boston traffic… and in a word?

 

 

Okay, technically that’s 2 words.

 

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But it still sucks.

 

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The Tobin Bridge is attractive…

 

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But directly after that is the Callahan Tunnel, which is not.

Of course my aversion to it may have something to do with the fact that we’re always bumper to bumper in the dark and instead of the posted 40 mph speed limit? The husband is flying through at 80 while darting in and out of traffic trying to get 3 inches ahead of the next car. Driving is a competition dontcha know…

Blah, blah, blah.

Safe trip…. hello Cape Cod!

We stayed at the Sea Mist Resort in Mashpee, Massachusetts which is considered the Upper Cape.

 

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And it was a good base from which we could explore.

Quiet, wooded and off season? It was practically deserted, which is how we like it.

 

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We had a one bedroom townhouse with two bathrooms and a cathedral ceiling.

 

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A nice full kitchen with granite countertops and wood floors.

 

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It was clean, and spacious…

 

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Although when it came to the living room furniture and color scheme?

 

 

Yes, it was bland.

 

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But hell… clean, quiet and spacious trumps ugly any day.

 

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Did I mention there were 2 full bathrooms? That’s unusual in a one bedroom timeshare condo and I took full advantage…. giving the husband this smaller one.

 

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It was a little odd having a window in the bedroom that looked out on the living room….

 

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But it made for a nice little reading nook when the husband was knee deep in MSNBC every night.

 

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The bedroom was a good size with a super comfortable, although not king sized, bed.

 

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It also had a full length mirror which earns it an extra star in my book as none of them ever do.

After unpacking,  (which looks like this for me…

 

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And this for him…

 

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(Men. How is it possible we’re the same species?) We headed out for a late lunch/early dinner.

 

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Mashpee Commons was nearby and one of the largest shopping centers on the Cape. While attractive and filled with interesting stores and restaurants, it was also a nightmare when it came to parking. We circled and circled… and circled some more until we squeezed into a tiny spot. Christ! It was the dead season of November, I can’t imagine what it would be like in the summer.

 

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We landed at Bobby Byrne’s pub…

 

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Where I got in the Cape Cod spirit with a cranberry and grapefruit cocktail. (Or two)

When you’re in the Cape, it’s all about the cranberry.

 

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I wanted the huge gigantic pretzel, because seriously… it was huge.

But went with the grilled chicken quesadillas and sriracha crema instead.

 

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Damn! They were good.

Husband had his usual French Onion soup which I swear… contained at least a pound of cheese.

 

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Then we shared a chicken broccoli alfredo.

 

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Which was delightfully rich and garlicky.

Did I mention the beer was extremely cold?

 

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Literally, ice cold.

(Are you food picture screamers satisfied? Day 1 and you got multiple food photos. You’re welcome… now be quiet.)

Bellies full, we grocery shopped to stock the kitchen…. and then called it a night.

One more picture…

 

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Because skylights in the living room require an after dark selfie….

 

 

 

Because I’m always looking out for my male friends.

 

So a certain blogger (who shall remain nameless unless he/she actually wants to take credit for this post) sent me a link to a product that I found the day after Thanksgiving.

Having just enjoyed copious amounts of turkey, I admit it made me think twice about ever eating one again.  It seems we never really know what those birds are up to pre gluttonous feast.

This post will pass along further information for what I think is probably the best Christmas stocking stuffer ever.

For your husband, your brother, your uncle, your cousin…. Hell, for every man in your life.

Give them to your mailman and the guy who changes your oil.

You can thank me later.

Snowballs

If you clicked the link, you’ll realize I wasn’t talking about those delightfully revolting pink Hostess treats that look like Tribbles.

It’s another thing entirely.

 

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No, I’m not kidding…

And some of the descriptions are funnier than the product itself.

“Summer is a decidedly, uh, swampy time for many men and the summer of 2019 has been especially hot and humid throughout most of the northern hemisphere. Dress loose and in light fabrics all you want, eventually the heat hits you in the crotch.

It’s a uniquely male problem and one underwear company has the solution to that and more. Snowballs basically wants to ice your ‘nads back into the comfort—and fertility—zone.

Being able to walk around with your ‘nads air-conditioned without risking indecent exposure is pretty appealing. And Snowballs claims their product can do more than just frost the funk away from your nether regions.”

 

Swampy?

 

 

 

Yeah, no one wants that.

 

“From setting sprays to chafing balm, ladies have a few tricks up their sleeves when it comes to handling the heatwave.

But now men have found something to help them out on scorching hot days — freezable pants.

Over on Amazon, a brand called Snowballs Underwear is selling “scientifically-backed cooling underwear”.

The underwear comes with ice packs — dubbed “SnowWedges” — that men are able to put in the freezer before popping into a pouch that sits over the groin.”

 

And before you decide the whole thing is just a joke, here’s a video to prove icing your  balls, sack, nuts, jewels, sweetbreads, Christ…what term won’t get me kicked off WordPress?   parts has actual medical benefits.

 

 

 

 

 

There.

Now don’t you feel better knowing these exist?

 

 

 

 

 

Just remember…

You saw it here first.

 

 

More baby annoyances.

 

This week the baby barn saga is a two-fer…. lucky you!  I spent far too much time on the husband’s rusty crap  stuff yesterday, so today?

Deconstruction.

 

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Old shingles had to come off first and that was a nightmare. They’re over 40 years old and brittle as hell. Pieces and parts at best, and it seemed like every nail he tried to pull was bent.

 

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                                             *inserts required ‘porn for women’ shot here*

Sweep, baby… sweep!

 

 

Walls were coming off left and right….

 

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And we seemed to be making progress.

 

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How’s that for an action shot?

Mid air plywood!

 

 

More sweeping…

 

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A little rotted wood.

 

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(It was only holding up the roof, and my husband… no worries.)

 

 

And a room with a view later…

 

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The rain that wasn’t supposed to start until after midnight was threatening and we had to scramble to waterproof.

 

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This meant a patchwork of zip siding with a corner that wasn’t exactly … how shall we say?

 

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Squared.

Followed by my favorite part.

 

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Rolling out and tacking down tar paper in 30 mph wind.

 

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Please note I’m risking life and limb giving you roof top photos.

You can call me crazy, but you can’t say I don’t go the extra mile for my readers.

 

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So this is where we left it… weird, but water tight.

One dry days work, and a full half a day covering it up for the next rain storm. Had we started this stupid project in September…. when we were begging for moisture, instead of October… where it rains very other day, I dare say we’d be further along by now.

The baby nightmare continues…

 

Baby barns.

Totally not worth the trouble.

 

 

 

When last we left our intrepid deconstructor, he had finished the back side of the main building and was moving around to the side.

 

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Please note that his loyal wife and help mate was not thrilled to see a large pile of dirt growing ever larger on her lawn.

 

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Problem #1 this past weekend?  The husband had so much  junk, crap, useless rusted nonsense   treasure stored in that section, he had no room to work.

Of course, he assured me it was all wonderful stuff.

 

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I assured him it was not.

 

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What? Why? How much….

 

 

I didn’t even want to know.

 

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Yes…. that’s a filthy old door with a mail slot that weighs roughly 5,000 pounds.

No… I have no idea why he has it.

 

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But if you need 2 rusted iron frames for your wooden wagon wheels?  He’s your man.

Although on second thought, he never parts with anything… ever. So I guess you’re out of luck.

You might have noticed this jewel in the previous photo…

 

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I think it’s an ancient torture device from the early 14th century.

I know it damn near broke my back dragging it across the lawn to the big barn where it will now gather more cobwebs.

It’s days like these that I have to keep telling myself…

 

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I really do.

Because otherwise? I’d kill him…

And I don’t think they’d let me blog from prison.

 

 

 

 

 

Well, that’s a new one.

 

As you know…. my husband has a habit of coming home from the dump with more than he went with.

But this week?

I think he even surprised himself.

We’d been working on the baby barn and the truck was full of rotted wood.

 

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Our local recycling center won’t take it because it was painted, which means a 40 minute trip to a solid waste disposal site. He came back with an empty truck….

And this:

 

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Yeah.

A 2005 BMW.

Did we need another one? No.

 

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And come on, you know owning two BMW’s is twice as obnoxious as owning one.

Why did he buy another one?

Because it was clean…

 

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Had low mileage for it’s age…

And the little old lady that owned it treated it like a child.

 

 

I really have to stop letting him go to the dump alone.

 

*Disclaimer – technically he didn’t get this at the dump, just found it at a house along the way.  Hell, if he’d found it for free at the dump… I wouldn’t be complaining.*