If you aren't aware of it, check it out because it is brilliantly hilarious.
Oh, and by the way, that dude who just started tweeting his dad's witticisms for the hell of it, that dude recently published a book with the same title and now there's an upcoming TV series in the works starring William Freakin' Shatner.
Anyway, I'm thinking of renaming my blog, "Sh*t My Hubby Does And I Am Not Making This Sh*t Up" because lately I feel like I've just got a bucketload of stories to tell you about him.
So, here's another tale.
I think my husband is aging prematurely.
And it has nothing to do with the fact that he now wears loud, tropical shirts, all untucked and billowy like a retiree with nothing on his mind but shuffleboard.
No, if anything his physical appearance is going the other way down the age scales.
I am proud to say my hubby has lost a significant amount of weight this year. Like 30 somethin' pounds of significant.
I met My Hubby in college.
He was sinewy with ropey cords of muscle lying directly underneath his skin. And that skin was the color of summer, bronzed to a burnished shade of gold, made so from spending his summer renting out sailboats on the beach.
I thought this beach boy, who kept finding a seat right next to me in class even though he stumbled in late every time, was super cute.
He was mine, from our first date on.
My brother got married just a few months into our courtship. And that beach boy of mine didn't own a suit.
We searched far and wide, hunting through every mall we could find, looking for a suit that would fit him.
It turned out to be a wild goose chase.
He was too skinny for even the smallest of man's sizes.
The eve of the wedding, he still didn't have a suit and I was panicked. I could see him showing up in his OP corduroy shorts and flip-flops. (Don't laugh. It was the style, man.)
He reassured me he'd pull through, saying, "Trust me. I'll find a suit."
I should have known then, that this man would spend a lifetime pulling rabbits out of hats for me.
As we were all leaving for the church from my parents' house, he still hadn't shown up. I was nervous, unable to get a hold of him (it was the dark ages, before *gasp* cell phones), I figured he'd bagged out on the wedding and on me.
And just as my eyes were misting over with tears as I reluctantly climbed into my parents' waiting car, he zoomed up and he had on the most gorgeous suit I'd ever seen. It fit his skinny body like it had been custom tailored for him.
We all oohed and ahhed and I shook my head in wonder and said, "But, we looked everywhere?"
And he smiled, so handsome in his beautiful suit and said, "We didn't look in the rental shops!"
For 40 bucks, he looked like this. And that included the shoes.
So, anyway, along the way my Hubby has indulged in life. He loves good food, good wine and the pounds just crept up.
About a year ago, without saying a word to me, he decided to lose the weight and he did. It just melted away like butter in the broiling sun.
Which is so not fair.
I ask him all the time for the secret to his weight loss and he just shrugs and says, "I'm more careful with what I eat."
No, I'M careful with what I eat!
When we go out to dinner, I'm the one ordering the fish, not because I love fish but because of the stupid omega 3's and other crap, and I substitute the pasta for veggies and I order the stinkin' vinaigrette on my salad, while he's over there ordering his pasta with butter, olive oil, garlic and cheese and "make that steak medium rare, give it to me with the blue cheese crust and give me both blue cheese and Caesar dressing on the side for my salad."
And of course, no dinner out is complete without a trip to the Coldstone Creamery. He claims he does it for the kids, because in his words, "They're kids and kids need ice cream to grow. It's a proven fact." But, I've yet to see him pass up a round of ice cream. AND he insists that they all order the Gotta Have It size which is the jumbo size, because in his words again, "If you're gonna eat ice cream, you gotta go big."
So, my Hubby and kids stuff their faces with birthday cake ice cream and hot fudge and smashed up butterfingers and cookie dough and I gain inches on my thighs, just watching them.
It's not fair. The only eating habit he's probably modified is skipping the cheese on his Big Mac and waa-laa, the lb's sprout wings and fly away.
I hate that about men.
But, we were talking about something else, weren't we?
Huh, I never know how I get here. It's like I just wake up in a different place from where I started.
Oh right, we were talking prematurely aging. So, here's the story:
The other night we were at the mall and we strolled by a jewelry store offering free jewelry cleaning.
My Hubby stopped dead in his tracks.
If it's free, he's got to get him some, no matter what it is.
He's a sucker for those kiosks and the pushy folks who want to squirt perfumes on you, rub hand cream into your thirsty skin, braid your hair, anything. If it's free, he's in.
There was a lovely, young lady working the sonic jewelry cleaner right inside the store and he handed her his wedding ring and my rings which actually did need a good cleaning. And as we were waiting for the cleaner to perform its magic, my hubby did his usual bit and started up a conversation with this girl.
I was only half listening, since it was the day before Mother's Day and I was making a big show of admiring all the glistening jewelry in the windows.
My Hubby was doing a great job ignoring me.
I heard the girl ask my hubby what he did for a living.
He told her he had an insurance company.
She was suddenly very interested, which I didn't understand, because here's a little secret Internet: talk of insurance is a snoozefest just waiting to happen.
He expounded, telling her he provides various benefit programs to corporations.
And as he was filling her in on the boooorrrrriiiinnng, she suddenly said under her breath, "Are you hiring?"
And in the middle of this jewelry store with a horde of people and jewelry associates everywhere, my hubby yelled, "AM I HIRING? WELL, I'M ALWAYS LOOKING FOR GOOD SALESPEOPLE! YOU INTERESTED?"
I whirled around and glared at him as the poor jewelry girl glanced around furtively, checking to see, I'm sure, who was coming her way to fire her.
Later, when I explained to him, how he was wrong, AGAIN, (I have this talk with him pretty much every day), and how his yelling wasn't the most kosher thing to do in the situation, he laughed hilariously, slapping his knee at the humor? of the situation and then said, "Wow, I was yelling?"
My grandpa yelled all the time and he always insisted, (shouting it), that he wasn't doing anything of the sort.
After the mall, we went out to dinner. We ventured into one of our usual haunts, the place we go most often when I'm not cooking.
They know us well there.
The restaurant was jam-packed, like I'd never seen it before. The hostess told the couple in front of us it was a 2 hour wait. We were about to turn around and head out the door, when the hostess spotted us and called us over.
We stepped up to the hostess stand and she murmured that if we would just discreetly glide into the bar, she would have us seated immediately, since our weekly visits there most likely paid their electric bill.
And yes, he did.
My Hubby pointed at the bar and said, "OH, SO YOU WANT US TO GO WAIT IN THERE AND YOU'LL SEAT US NOW?"
I ducked my head and scurried into the bar, trying to ignore the crowd of glaring folks with rumbling stomachs.
He's never really mastered discretion and THAT is definitely a post for another day.
Our waiter was attentive from the minute we sat down even though, we could tell he was swamped. When I inquired about the packed crowds, he listed as he mopped the sweat from his brow: the night before Mother's Day, (always a busy night), prom night and two of the local college's graduations.
It was crazy busy and the staff was practically running trying to keep up with the overflowing crowds.
I commented on the crowds to My Hubby as we sat there, but he could only manage a grunt since he was busy surfing the net on his phone.
Which is a huge pet peeve of mine.
It's like pulling out your laptop while having dinner with someone and completely ignoring them while you troll the internet for celebrity gossip or in his case, financial crap or Mac news or Big Green Egg chat forums. Sadly, I'm serious.
And as I was perusing the menu, he looked over at me with those goober glasses he has to wear for reading.
Which, a quick tip, here. There will come a time in everyone's life when you have to wear glasses to read. Do NOT put on those magnifying glasses until you absolutely have to. Trust me on this. My eye doctor informed me, the quicker you put them on, the faster your eyes will weaken. I still don't have to wear them, even though every once and awhile I do have to squint.
But, my Hubby slapped a pair of those drugstore specs on, the second the words on the menu got a little blurry. He now has to wear the super-duper magnified ones. Don't you just love my technical terms?
And he buys them by the dozen because he loses them by the dozen.
Before I interceded, he was picking these magnified glasses up, at I don't know, "Ugly Is Us" because these babies were horrible. I mean, he put them on and I couldn't even look at him because his eyes were enormous googly fish eyes and the frames were always bent and askew on his face and quite honestly, it made me feel like I'd married an inbred who'd been locked up in his parents' basement all his life. It was that bad.
I insisted he had to buy more stylish frames and now he has some Euro specs that look quite dashing on him. But, he still keeps the awful ones around just in case he forgets his good pair.
He forgot on this night.
And so, he had on those awful Deliverance glasses and he looked up at me and said, excitedly, "I've found a gun for sale, the gun that ended World War I!"
In my lifetime with this man, I've learned to just nod my head and say, "That's great, Hon."
Because if I don't? I'll get to hear all about The. Gun. That. Ended. World. War. I.
And I'd rather talk about shoes.
So, he was lost in his historic gun world and I was deciding between the stupid, stupid fish or perhaps some delicious broiled chicken, when the waiter came over, practically heaving he was so out of breath, and asked if we'd decided.
My Hubby, who was scrolling through his phone, said in this lazy, slow drawl, "Have weeeee deeeciiiideeed? Hmmmmm."
And the waiter was staring at him expectantly as the table next to us was trying to get the server's attention and I was looking at him because I, indeed had decided and it was going to be stupid fish again and he looked up at the waiter with his Squeal Like A Pig glasses and said, "I haven't decided, but would you like to see the gun that ended World War I?"
And I jumped all over his ass and said, "No, he doesn't want to see the gun that added World War I? He wants to take your order. Do you know what you want. Do you? Do you? Because this man is busy!"
And he looked at me so goober-like in those glasses and said, "I have no idea what I want."
This is the stuff I speak of.
Grandpas talk way too loudly in the wrong situations. Grandpas are for the most part, in a constant state of oblivion. I mean, have you driven behind an old man at any point? Then, you know what I speak of. Grandpas talk to strangers about crap no one cares about. Grandpas wear magnified glasses lopsided on their face. Grandpas blabber to folks, taking up all the person's time with their talk of inane drivel. Grandpas do not understand the art of discretion. Grandpas like to talk about the gun that ended World War I.
I wedded a cute, hip beach boy.
I am now married to an inbred Grandpa in a billowy tropical shirt.
When did we take this turn?
Today's Definite Download: The Corr's, "So Young." The Corrs are a cute, little pop group from Ireland made up of all sisters and one brother and let me tell you, these ladies are beyootiful. And I'm super jealous because they had a VH-1 special one time and I was just sitting there enjoying it, listening to their kickey, little tunes when, suddenly out of nowhere without any fanfare, Bono walked onto the stage. And of course, just like anytime Bono's around, my world was instantly filled with the light of sunshine and rainbows. And Bono sang a couple of songs with them and at the end of the last song, he took the lead girl singer's hand and started dancing with her! Another day. Another girl to dance with.
It is everywhere I look, this taunting display of dancing with everyone in the world, BUT me. I think he even danced with Senator Jesse Helms one time, when Jesse Helms was still living. (Because that would be the ultimate, if Bono was dancing with dead people over dancing with me.) And that really made me mad, because I would like to know if Senator Helms could recite even one line to any U2 song. I bet he could not. And yet, HE got a dance.
So, anyhoo, this one's for My Hubby, a plea to stay here with me in the land of still cool, still happenin', still shakin' it, instead of this old man world he is descending into. I am deathly afraid he's going to walk in the door in those wrap around your head sunglasses.
We are taking it easy
Bright and breezy
We are living it up
Just fine and dandy
We are chasing the moon
Just running wild and free
We are following through
Every dream and every need
And it really doesn't matter that we don't eat
And it really doesn't matter that we don't sleep
It really doesn't matter, it really doesn't matter at all