so what’s up with this? one week a month you are all raving lunatics, and completely unable to grasp the trend that has preceded this particular outburst and blame the men for – well, anything. shouldn’t you know by now this is coming? and shouldn’t you perhaps take responsibility for it? for instance, today we relived a moment where in the past i had said to her that her capris – which she had worn everyday for like a week i swear, no lie – didn’t look as cute on her as her regular pants. now, in a man’s world, this means that the jeans look better than capris. to a woman on the “.” it means that i think she’s ugly. and stupid. and fat. and i’d rather date my black lab. somehow. and then, after we’ve rehashed the meaning of english for this particular statement, i’m reminded that at one point, some time ago, once, in a different context, in response to an inquiry, in a distant galaxy far far way,i said that a part of her head looked like “cellulite.”

now before i tell you that i was giving her a description she asked for to a question she asked along the lines of “what does it look like,” i’ll let you guess what the reenactment basically consisted of. go ahead, guess. no really, guess. guess. just guess. ok, so yeah, you’re right, she said that it meant i thought she was ugly. and fat. and other stuff, and that i was a(n) asshole/pervert/jackass/mutherfuckinsonovabich/twit (pick your favorite). now this one i could kind of see, had i just woke up one morning and said to her “you look like cellulite.” however, i was investigating a section of her scalp, and was questioning why this particular part appeared different. she then proceeded to ask “what’s it look like?” to which i thought about it and then came up with the correct answer. now, of course, this description is the source of pain and discomfort for me. i fear for my life. in fact, don’t show her this blog (love you, honey!). it could be bad, for the both of us, but especially me. so just don’t do it. (kisses! lots of love and hugs!)

so the answer, i’ve decided, is that once we get up north, we must have two homes. they can be on the same property, but must be far enough apart that a woman’s “with-the-breeze” mood swing rights itself and she can return to her abode before barging in on mine and upsetting the balance. i will spend approximately 1/4 of my life here until menopause, at which point i may either move in with her full-time or move out, depending on how she handles the transition, we’ll jut have to wait and see.

sigh. a wise man i used to know (who didn’t graduate high school) once said, “women: you can’t live with ‘em, and you can’t live with ‘em.” amen, brother.

peace.

Tags: women