Tag Archives: marriage

Women Can Be Such Bitches|But Sometimes People Deserve It

woman-frustratedFun fact: This is an old post that I took down because I got so much flack for being such a horrible wife. Now, 3 years later, I’m over 40 and frankly don’t care if you people think I’m a horrible wife. Also, if I’m being honest, we all have our meltdowns and our horrible wife moments, if you don’t than you probably shouldn’t be at this particular site. PS you know who really thought this post was funny, my husband.

Hubby: “Jenny are you busy?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m writing.”

Hubby: “Listen, where is that car wash?  Next to the Ale House?

Me: “Yes.”

Hubby: “And where do I pull in?”

Me: “Like you’re going to the Ale House, but you turn into the wash instead.”

Annoying Hubby: “And which one do I buy?”

Me: “Whatever is most expensive.”

Hubby that is now like another one of my children: “And then what? Do they just hand you a ticket?”

Me frustrated: “Can’t you just go to a car wash like everyone else?  You get in the line and it will all be self explanatory.”

Hubby who doesn’t realize that I lost patience for inane questions years ago: “Because I can ask you.”

Me, done with this conversation: “I think you can handle it. People go there all the time and they often leave with a clean vehicle.”

Hubby who is now totally pushing it because my snideness is annoying him: “Why can’t you just answer me?”

Me trying to be witty and lighten the mood: “Look you only get so many questions per day; you must use them wiser.”

Hubby who does not find me amusing: “grunt.”

Me being an asshole: “Ok, you pull into the lane a man with broken English will ask you which wash you want and then he’ll point to a chart that describes your options in depth.  Get the one that costs the most.” (his car hasn’t been washed in like a year)

Hubby asking a question because he does still want info: “But not the one where they wax it right?”

Me still being an asshole, but making myself giggle: “No, just the highest of the standard, you don’t need it detailed.  Then he will hand you a ticket and point you to the register which is inside the mini-mart looking building.  There you will in turn hand the ticket to the lady who speaks English with a thick accent.  She will give you a receipt and she may also give you change. This occur if and only if, you do not give her the exact amount.  Then you will go to a waiting area and sit on a bench, providing there’s room.  You’ll want to avoid sitting on someone’s lap as it’s frowned upon.  You will send work emails or text from your phone until you see your car pull out.  You may also opt to read from your Amazon library or play Ruzzle the possibilities are endless. You will do this until another man, who speaks no English what-so-ever beckons, the owner of a car that looks like yours … your car.  As you are the owner of your car, you will hand him a tip, take the keys and return to me.”

What Those V-Day Candy Sweethearts Should REALLY Say – After Marriage Edition

What Sweetheart Candies SHOULD Say After a Few Years of MarriageI’ve had some awkward V-Day Moments, from my 5yo trying to soap opera kiss me to my hubby trying to stuff himself and champagne into an undersized NYC bathtub in our undersized NYC apartment to my dauther telling me, I make her want to “puke of love”. That said, I’ve decided this year will not be awkward. No, we will all be realistic in our planning and our phrasing.

As I picked up a pack of those V-Day conversation hearts (the candies that are supposed to represent the sweet nothings you would whisper in your lover’s ear before bed, like: I LOVE U, B MINE, KISS ME…), I thought, this is anything but realistic phrasing.   Those sayings are more saccharine sweet than the candy, so I made a list that resembles real pillow talk. These are the phrases that should be etched on those cute little hearts, after a few years of marriage.

Be warned: this list is not for newlyweds, so you can refrain from reading and telling me how blissful your marriage is. Give it a few years. Ahem- I mean, I’m happy for you.

WIFE CONVERSATION HEARTS:

HE GETS THAT FROM UR SIDE

YOU WANNA PUT WHAT, WHERE?

COULD U BE MORE LIKE ADAM LEVINE?

I’M PREGNANT … PSYCHE

R THOSE UR TOENAILS? Continue reading

Come One Come All

Like the great city of New York, I’m giving away vibrators, seriously. What am I talking about? How did this happen? How could you win?

If you’ve cracked open a paper or macbook recently, including the NY Post, whose headline read: Buzz Kill – city stops sex-toy giveaway, you would know that the lines to get a free Trojan sex toy in NYC yesterday stretched for blocks, clogging streets and blocking store fronts — Continue reading

What Those Candy Hearts Should REALLY Say – After Marriage – A little post V-Day fun

While searching for a pic I found this. I guess I

On Valentine’s Day I was reading through the V-day Sweethearts, you know, the conversation hearts, the ones that are supposed to represent the sweet nothings you would whisper in your lover’s ear before bed. Like: I love you, be mine, kiss me… blah blah blah. So in that vein, I’ve made a list of what should be etched in red on those cute little hearts.

BTW this article is not for newlyweds, so you can refrain from reading and telling me how head over heels you are. Give it a few years. Ahem- I mean, I’m happy for you. Frankly, you can avoid this article unless you’re past the 7 year itch. Sorry, but resentment and boredom takes time to cure, like a salami.

WIVES CONVERSATION HEARTS:

I BOUGHT ANOTHER PAIR OF SHOES, DON’T WORRY THEY WERE ON SALE

SHH… THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF BEVERLY HILLS IS ON

NO, I WON’T PUT THAT IN MY MOUTH Continue reading

Why are Men Such Wusses? Things husbands do when they’re sick

For four days I have been sick.  Nothing crazy; just the usual sore throat in the morning, coughing, fatigue kind of thing.  Yet, in those four days, the world miraculously kept spinning. My children’s schedules did not disappear, nor did mine.  They made it to camp, and to baseball, and the Doctor.  They did not suffer from starvation because I decided to forgo grocery shopping, or making them breakfast, or packing their lunches; so that I could lie around and do something trivial, like recuperate.

Last night, I happily turned out the lights at 11PM, hoping to make up for that 4 hour “nap” I had the night before.  At midnight my dog Buddy, pacing and panting like a sex caller, sent me out like a shot for his first pee break of the evening.  At 1AM my son ran in soaking wet, exclaiming, “I think I sweated too much.”  Unable to peel myself up, I let his little naked tush into my bed where he continued to whine for about an hour straight.  “Mommy, I neeeeeeeeeed pants.”  “I’ll get you pants,” and let our heavy breather out for the 2nd time.  “Mommy, I neeeed my favorite pillow.” “I’ll get your favorite pillow” and give our letchy dog a bowl of water.  By 3AM Jack had tried 12 different positions.  Including the one where you go all the way under the covers to the end of the bed and push until you fall to the floor taking the comforter with you.  He complained about 20 different things, from being upset that I had to remake the bed after he fell out of it, to having an actual dislike for color of my sheets.  “They’re white.”

In the midst of this chaos, my husband was completely oblivious during those last few hours.  Some could argue that this has been the case for the last decade. He was sleeping with his body pillow, the one he stole from me in the 3rd trimester of my 1st pregnancy.  It has been our small person sized bedmate ever since.  A bedmate that he shoves in his crotch and smothers between his knees. Well, better the pillow than me.  He had 2 more pillows over his head and was taking up 73% of the bed.  He had built and Iron clad barricade which my son could not penetrate or budge.  Jack and I were so snug I’d have to rebirth him to get him to camp.  Finally , I gave up and wooed him back into his room by promising to make him a fort, “just like Daddy’s.”  Of course I had to remake his bed first, as the sweat had an uncanny resemblance to pee.  I got back into bed around 4 AM, after reading my dog a story and letting my son out.  Wait, scratch that and reverse it.

By 4:45 my son was back in the womb.  “Mom, can I be your snuggle bunny?”  For how many years will I get to hear that?  At 5AM my daughter was squeezing in on the other side of me.  We laid there like a hermetically sealed package of sausages, my arm coyoteed under Ryleigh’s head.  Then she started complaining.  “Its too hot with this blanket.  Mom my PJ’s hurt.  Mom I hate the color of your sheets.”  Somehow, 6:30 managed to roll around.

I banged on  my husbands fort with the door knocker he installed.  Bang…Bang…Bang.  “Please get the kids ready for camp.  I was up all night.”  Mark is a morning person so I imagined it would be no big deal.  “Grumble grumble… no.”  “What do you mean you won’t help me?”  “Grunt, I’m sick, my throat is killing me.  Besides, I was up too.”  “What kept you up?  Was it the sound of your snoring?  Or maybe the pillow over your head wasn’t soft enough.”  “I just can’t I’m too sick.”  My husband’s cold might as well be the plague, as the Earth has halted on it’s axis.


It would take a hemorrhaging artery to get him to the Doctor, excuse me the clinic, as he has never officially acquired a Doctor.  But, why go?  It’s easier to lay around and tease my children with his untouchable presence.  He’ll spend his day creating an impressive mound of snotty tissues, large enough to pitch off of.  Tissues which he is too sick to bend down and pick up, however he is not too sick to work or to make sure to keep up with his fantasy team.

He’ll refuse to use sanitizer, and sluggishly mosey around the house, putting his grubby, germy hands in every bag of chips, touching every door knob and remote, and talking on every phone.  He may even lick the straws on the juice boxes for good measure.  All in a effort to ensure that as soon as he gets better, both my children will surely contract his illness and I will have no shot at personal recovery.

Now, I should Mommy him, which in my bitter and sick state, I cannot even feign an attempt.  Listen, if I wanted another child I would adopt one from Indonesia.  If you need to be babied, call your Mom.  Better yet, go stay with her.  I don’t ask that my sickness or lack of sleep take precedence over yours.  I just ask that you go to a hotel until yours passes.”

My Wakeup Call that the Economy is Officially Kicking my Ass

Woman with empty walletOn Monday morning while half asleep and lying in bed, I reached for the remote, as I do every morning before my daughter wakes up  and begs to play “Barbies.”  I gently squeezed the “ON” button and received a wakeup call that I could not push “Snooze” on.  Your lifestyle is going down the toilet, well actually it said, You No Longer Have Direct TV Service.  Please Call Us, Deadbeat! Okay, there was no “deadbeat,” but all of the above was implied.  In a frenzy, I switched to my “Tivo List” looking for a prerecorded episode of Jersey Shore, to calm my nerves, but the Tivo service was also, no longer available. “WHY?” “Say it isn’t so.” and “What does this mean?” escaped my lips almost simultaneously.  Hello, the Bachelor narrows his bevy of possible flight attendants down to 12 ladies tonight, and what am I supposed to do while that’s happening… read?

Maybe this isn’t the first sign of my financial woes.  Has the proverbial alarm been buzzing and I’ve been sleeping through it?  Is it possible that being down to one credit card, that I randomly opened at Costco, was some kind of indicator that times are tough?  Is the credit card Roulette I play at check out not a real game?  You know, when you grab a card from your wallet at random and pray you don’t hear the dreaded “You’re Declined” which is followed by mental buzzer, while the contestant –me–  fishes through for another possible loser to swipe.

Now, in hindsight I feel almost silly.  I think there may have been other signals I missed.  Like when we cut out our annual vacations, or when we lost our savings in the market.  Darn it, have I just been phoning it in?  I’m not sure if those other signs are worth investigating, but the thought of missing the new Grey’s Anatomy/Private Practice crossover (that they haven’t stopped touting) could send anyone into a deep over-advertising induced depression.

In response to my wakeup call, I’ve done what any pop culture/ TV addict would do.  I pulled out my Costco American Express and called it in.  I know, it’s not tightening the purse strings, but I intend to skip grocery buying this week to make up for the loss.  Eating is overrated… especially after the holidays.  The truth is, I have a perfectly tasty cat just walking around the house.  Taunting me like a steak on wheels.  That’s ridiculous, why would I eat my cat when my dog is 40lbs heavier?   I may be poor, but I’m not stupid.

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I Slept With Tiger Woods

TigerWoodsOMG, I have to tell you guys something.  I often turn to my iCarly diary with my darkest secrets, but this one is just too juicy.   Here goes…  I slept with Tiger Woods.  You guys are probably freaking out, as Tiger’s reputation has been sooo perfect up until now.   Let me be the first to tell you, he’s not the squeaky clean Jonas Brother, he pretends to be.

Our affair was rather recent.  I must confess, he was passed out when I met him.  Sadly, that’s not the first time I started an affair with an unconscious man.  The other time was when this guy was hit by a subway car and I went to visit him in the hospital.  His family showed up and took me for his fiancé.  I went along with it because I was lonely and it was the holidays.  Eventually, he woke up and I married his brother.  Oh wait, that wasn’t me.  DUH.

Anywho, with Tiger it was different.  He was admitted to the hospital (where I am a candy striper) after a rather harsh battle with a fire hydrant.  –See, it’s different already.  It appears he and his wife play late night golf and he took his car to search for a stray ball, when the confrontation occurred.  I can only imagine how far one of Tiger’s balls can fly (well, I don’t have to imagine anymore).  –That was a sex joke, in case you didn’t catch on, LOL.

As it turns out, it was lucky that his wife was caddying for him, as she was able to use his iron to pull him from the wreck and beat off the fire hydrant.   I didn’t even know fire hydrants could come to life, but I saw this movie about a car named Christine and she came to life.  So, I guess anything’s possible.

Tiger  even promised me a signed Fat Head of his best friend MJ.  I can’t believe he can get in touch with Michael Jackson, but after the stint with the fire hydrant, I can see Tiger’s special.  Other people can see it too.   He also had sex with my friend Luanne who mops the floors.   And then Gertie, who resides in the nursing home area.   Oh, and Becky who was in the pediatric unit to have her tonsils out.  I ran into him wandering around the Nursery.  He says looking at the babies calms him.  I get it, they’re so sweet and innocent.

I confronted him about all those other girls, but he said, “don’t worry honey, you’re my hole in one.”  He said if we do it enough I can be his “double bogey.”  I don’t know anything about the golf but the nicknames sure are cute.  Oh yeah, he made me swear I’d never tell… Shit.

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