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Nov 08

Madness in a Pretty Package: Conversations with Ken

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We’ll call this part one of an ongoing series, because until one of us is rendered mute, we will never be at a loss for things with which to torture each other.

Since we happened to be in the neighborhood, I checked in at the local yarn emporium to see if the girl scout cookies I pre-ordered were in yet. Alas, they won’t be coming in until Wednesday. Of course, when I got into the car empty handed, the first thing out of Ken’s mouth was, “Whar mah cookies, bitch?”
“They’re not in until Wednesday, so we won’t be getting them until this weekend, probably.”
“That’s ricockulous.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” *blatant sarcasm*
“No, it’s not your fault…” *completely serious*
“No, I mean I’m sorry as in, “I’m sorry you feel entitled to my cookies.”
*nefarious chuckle* “Oh, honey – I’m your husband. I’m always entitled to your cookies.”Moments later, walking through the parking lot of Culver’s, someone’s recent trophy buck is poking out of the bed of a pickup, tongue lolling. My husband the city boy takes one look and says, “You think it’s okay?”
“What, the deer? Are you retarded?”

And not 5 minutes later as we were waiting to pay for lunch, a father was at the soda fountain with his small children, filling a cup. One of the kids insisted that she wanted her own cup because she didn’t want to share with her little brother, and daddy said, “No honey, we’re all going to share one.” At which point she gets pouty and pill-ish. This, if you know us well, is the part of the story where Ken pointedly presented his cup with a flourish, filled it, and began drinking enthusiastically in front of her.
*after they go find a table* “Man, I should have rubbed her face in it.”
“You’re 31 years old. You are way beyond antagonizing a six year old girl, Ken.”

At home, following some “priceless” marketing advice from Ken:
“You can repay me in beer.”
“Why don’t you just make your own beer?”
“This coming from the chick who’s like, ‘ew! It stinks like wort in here!'”
“It does stink! It took weeks for the smell to go away last time you made beer.”
“Yeah? Well your bath bombs stink!”
“My bath bombs smell amazing.”
“They offend my male sensibilities.”
“This coming from the guy who stole one off the counter like a fat kid pilfering a cupcake to run to the bathtub and test them out.”
“What was that fat kid joke, Miss ‘I want gummy bears?”
“What was that, Mister “Bitch, whar mah cookies?”
“Yeah! Where are my cookies?”
“They are not your cookies! And right now, they’re strictly theoretical!”
“Those are my cookies! I’m entitled to half! It was in the vows!

 

*Ken steals a handful of my gummy bears at the end of my soul sucking work day*
Me: “B-b-but, but – those are my gummy bears!”
Ken: “But you like to share.”
Me: “Hi, I’m your wife. Have we met?”

And this was only about cookies and gummy bears. Don’t miss our next episode when we examine the Mister’s rather juvenile take on pillow talk.

1 comment

  1. Dani

    Remember the time we were married to the same guy? OMG.

    Dan’s idea of high comedy is to ask his special needs nieces, ages 8 and 13, both with the mental abilities of a 5 year old, “Who wants ice cream?!” They squeal and get excited and he says, “BAAAHAHAHAHAAA! Too bad! There isn’t any!”

    The girls look confused and disappointed, I kick him in the knee and give him a filthy look and he says, “What?”

    I lecture his ass all the way home and he gets pissy, because apparently *I* am NO FUN.

    Men are fuckers.

    Can’t wait for pillow talk.

    We can compare notes.

    I’ll start:

    8 seconds after sex, Dan rips one that blows my hair back.

    Dan: “There go the after burners!”

    Your turn…
    Dani recently posted..The Duggar-Bobs are at it again…My Profile

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