Tag Archives: men

That person was my husband.

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The year was 1984. I had met and married my husband in 6 days. (He was on leave from the Marine Corps, had to be back on base in North Carolina in a week and was determined to take me with him.) I stuffed clothes, shoes and jewelry in black trash bags ..crammed as much as I could in the back of his Datsun 280ZX and off we went.

I’d just turned 20 and was journeying into the unknown. Married to a man I hardly knew, leaving home for a brand new life. His family was shocked. My mother was hysterical. I was young and in love… life was good!

Until we pulled into his rental bachelor pad down south. The house was small… and bright turquoise. Inside and out. Not his color of choice, but he didn’t change it either which speaks volumes. It had all the prerequisite bachelor ecoutrements…. plywood and cement blocks entertainment center, mismatched thrift store chairs, beach towels in the bathroom. But as awful as that was? I was undeterred. Men are works in progress, I could rebuild him.

And then I walked into the bedroom.

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Not my picture, but it could be. I ignored the fact my man only had one pot and 2 plates in his kitchen cupboard. I turned a blind eye to the boot stand made from a power line wooden spool. I shrugged off the dented foot locker coffee table. But a waterbed? That I would actually have to sleep on? That was a bridge too far.

The husband didn’t mind with me filling his kitchen and bathroom with appropriate items. He encouraged me to buy new furniture and paint the walls a less objectionable color. But he loved that abominable liquid monstrosity and refused to give it up.

We lived in the sea sickness inducing bachelor pad for 8 months and then bought our first home. It was considerably larger than his extremely shabby and not so chic rental abode so we purchased a dining room set, an office suite and den furniture. We built a deck and loaded it with porch furniture, a fire pit and a grill. It was great! Until I realized we had run out of money before we reached the bedroom.

I spent another year sleeping on that horrible rubber life raft but my husband still balked every time I broached the subject of replacing it. I dreaded going to sleep at night. Every time the husband rolled over, a wave rippled under me. It was bizarre.

And then one night, Morpheus smiled upon me.

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No, not that one.

The God of Sleep heard my prayers and we both woke up shivering at 3:00am. For those who don’t know, you can’t just fill a waterbed and call it good. There’s a heating mechanism under the mattress that keeps the water warm. You can’t sleep on cold water, it will draw out your body heat in an attempt to level the temperature difference. And that’s just what the last vestige of my husband’s bachelorhood did.

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The heater broke, the water temperature dropped and we were shivering popsicles by morning. I was ecstatic! The husband was bereft. I did a happy dance of epic proportions. The husband may have wept.

We stripped the bed, siphoned out the water…. not a small task…. and discovered that not only had the heater ceased to heat, it had completely burned out and scorched the wooden frame beneath, dropping burnt ash on the carpet. I suppose being burned to death by a waterbed is technically impossible since the flames would eventually be extinguished by the burst of water…. but that’s a wood fire- burning rubber- electrical nightmare I’d rather not be slumbering on thank you very much.

The waterbed went bye bye and I said good riddance. I really wish I could find the picture I took of the husband that morning. (pre digital so there’s no telling where it could be) We were curling up the rubber mattress to push the last bit of water out the hose and he was sitting in the corner, desolate, head in hand… watching the last drop (literally) of his single life go out the window (literally).

Good times.

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So much thinking.

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The husband has a standing Sunday afternoon pool game with the little old man up the road. He’s a widower my other half met years ago at breakfast, and as soon as we remodeled the barn into a man cave… the weekly game commenced.

Last week a few other friends showed up and team play got underway. There was a lot of laughing.

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And a great deal of thinking.

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It seems like every time I went out to refresh the snacks, there was one shot taken…

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And then more thinking.

So much thinking…

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More often than not, the mild mannered 85 year old widower cleaned the table while the rest of the men continued thinking.

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He may be small, but every little bone in is body is competitive.

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No matter. Beer, chili and cornbread are great equalizers.

😉

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The piece of jewelry no woman wants.

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Men? I’m going to give you a little free advice so listen carefully.

I believe I speak for all women when I say we don’t want this.

We don’t this for our birthdays. We don’t want this for our anniversaries. And we definitely don’t want this for Valentines Day.

Uh uh.

Nope.

No way.

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The fact that this abomination is listed as “low in stock” is proof positive men are basically clueless gift givers and will benefit enormously from reading my blog.

Please spread the word.

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A gift for the posterior challenged man in your life…

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While I usually cringe at the Facebook algorithms that pollute my feed with ball wash and stink free underwear, I have to admit this latest ad made me laugh.

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Because, come on. We all know an assless man.

And before I could even click on this so called miracle accessory, I was chuckling.

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The first step in healing is admitting you have a problem.

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Lord knows I love a product that doesn’t take itself seriously.

Check out this quick commercial.

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Need another chuckle?

The same company makes a wedding ring as well.

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Stiff…. Part 2.

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I have to say this was the weirdest book I’ve ever read.

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I don’t know what possessed me to pick up a book about corpses off the library’s fundraising sale table, but I’m glad I did.

It was quite…. educational.

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Dead people can fart.

You heard it here first.

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I don’t think it’s a stretch to say I immediately related to this author. She and I are basically twins. Sarcastic, and semi alcoholic.

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There you go, men.

A little something to look forward to after you’re gone.

On second thought… little might be the wrong word.

🤣

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Because I’m full of random nonsense right now.

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I bought this for the man cave bar, mainly because Amazon is evil and it’s entirely too easy to satisfy impulse shopping cravings.

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It looked like a great idea, but in reality… was a royal pain in the patoot. The inner chamber would never seat properly and every time you painstakingly filled the outer, the water would leak through and pop the inner chamber up like a cork.

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Solution? Weigh down the inner chamber with frozen fruit.

I refuse to be beaten.

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The next time my husband refuses to listen me? That is what I’m going to show him.

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Cheaters chicken and dumplings. Easy, creamy and quite tasty. What’s not to love?

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In case anyone is interested.

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I use a family size rotisserie chicken, low sodium broth and lite salt with half the sodium. It’s still savory.

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For those of us who love our cats?

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This is probably very close to the truth.

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Interior design fails.

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Have you ever driven by a house and thought… I bet the owners designed that themselves. Most people don’t have an architect’s eye…. and if the following photos are any judge? They don’t have interior decorating skills either.

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And look, they even mounted it on a rock.

😳

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I can conceive of no floor plan that makes this a good idea. And if the toilet is where you get your inspiration? I’m not humming your tune.

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I can’t even….

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Sorry, but this last one is absolutely something my husband would do. And the sad thing is…. he’d think it was a great idea.

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For all my male friends… a question.

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I read a disturbing article the other day. And while I may not be the most trendsetting, up to date person on the planet…. I have to ask.

Is this a thing?

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Forget about the charges and legal proceedings…. ‘semen terrorism”? Do men really go around ejaculating on unsuspecting women’s purses and coats?

WTH!

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Property damage or sex crime… whatever. Apparently South Korea is having an epidemic of men hiding cameras in women’s bathrooms and hotel rooms as well. But the semen thing? Come on, that’s beyond disgusting.

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In May, a male civil servant was sentenced to a fine of 3 million won on charges of “property damage” for ejaculating inside his female colleague’s coffee tumbler six times over the course of six months. The court judged that his actions “ruined” the utility of the container.

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Yes. That’s the issue.

A ruined coffee mug.

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A new toy.

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The husband came home with a new toy last weekend.

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And before I knew it or could grab a good before picture…

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He’d trimmed an unruly hedge.

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And moved on to the next.

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These bushes can get out of hand quickly, and I trim them every fall. The husband always gave me Hell for bringing the trimmer in the office and cutting from an open window, but it was the only way I could reach. He ranted about how dangerous it was, how much of a mess it made…. and for years on end told me it wasn’t necessary.

You know where I’m going with this right?

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Yes.

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Once again I was proved right.

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And trimming through the open office window commenced.

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But the shrubbery was nicely shaped so I didn’t rub it in.

Well, not much.

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And to think it only took 9 years.

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Today we can finally say the barn construction is complete. After breaking ground (not to mention our backs) in April 2012, the last pieces were just put into place.

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Said pieces being soffit under the eaves. For years they had been open…

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But now they’re boxed in, vented and painted.

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And also impossible to photograph without massive sun reflections.

If I had my druthers, I’d finish off the porch ceiling as well….

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But for some reason the husband draws the line there.

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I think it’s because people compliment us on the new paint job… the one I wanted and he didn’t. It ticks him off everyone loves it and he has to take his revenge where he can.

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