Tuesday, October 18, 2011

In which I try out the word "durned."

Do you ever start telling somebody a story and realize in the middle that it will only be funny and interesting to you, but by then you're too far in to stop and so you just kind of trail off, realizing that it was a totally lame story when re-told?

Why yes, actually, I do have experience with this.

You all know. You read my blog.

I was telling a story to my friend at work today about how Jack throws his empty water bottles across the room when he's finished with them (See also: we are so classy!). I always scold him for it, and this time when he threw it over the boxes of color belts strewn about our living room (See also: we are so classy!).

I turned and gave him a dirty look and he gave me one of his silly looks - the kind that always make me realize that it would be a losing battle to scold him for it - he's impossible to reason with when he decides to be cute.*

"See," he said gesturing energetically with his hands, "It was okay, because I threw it OVER the boxes. OVER them. See? OVER the boxes. So it's okay, Cheetles.** I threw it OVER them."

It was at this point in recounting the story to my friend that I realized that I wasn't quite conveying the funny (or, let's be honest, I was probably the only person who thought it was funny in the first place because LOOK AT MAH HUSBAND HE IS SO DURNED CUTE!). Also, I probably looked ridiculous trying to recreate the gestures Jack had been making, so I basically just trailed off, and mumbled something about "I guess you had to be there," and retreated back to my office, where nobody expects me to be witty.

(Nobody expects that anywhere, actually.)

So, my point is, nobody will find this story funny except me. But it's my blog, so quit your complaining about that.

But, alright, you might find this funny, on account of its relation to my simultaneously getting hurt and making a mess:

Last night, I was trying to get the flour out of my pantry (so as to make a from-scratch sour cream enchilada sauce - see also: SUPER WIFE!). I picked up the sugar canister, which was in front of the flour, when all of the sudden, the lid that I was holding on to flipped up and hit me in the face, and the rest of it went flying through the air and ended up like this:

Guess Jack throwing the empty water bottles across the room isn't quite so bad after all.


*When we were in pre-marital counseling, our counselor told us that if we ever get in the argument, one of us should make a silly face at the other to break the tension. And you guys, he is a firm believer in this technique. The man doesn't take ANYTHING seriously. But I have to say, it's effective. (See also, LOOK AT MAH HUSBAND HE IS SO DURNED CUTE!)

**Why yes, "Cheetles" is in fact his current nickname for me. No, I don't really know why except that it was derived from "Cletus," which was his nickname for me from the beginning. That particular nickname came when he was trying to get me out the door every time we were going somewhere and he would energetically say "C'mon, Cletus!" Eddie Murphy a la Nutty Professor-style. From there it went to normal conversation and has evolved in recent months to "Cheetles."
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