Sometimes I think war is God’s way of teaching us geography.
~Comedian Paul Rodriguez~
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My sister went shopping for blue jeans with her husband, Steve. She chose a few pairs to try on and went into the fitting room, while Steve waited outside. A minute later he heard her crying softly. Concerned, Steve said through the door, "Honey, really, it doesn’t matter if you’ve gone up a size or two."
Soon she came out, limping slightly and pretty upset. The problem wasn’t the size of her pants; she had stubbed her toe in the dressing room.
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While in the checkout line at my local hardware store I overheard one man say to another, "My wife has been after me to paint our shed. But I let it go for so long she got mad and did it herself."
His friend nodded. "I like women who get mad like that."
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When my younger brother and his wife celebrated their first anniversary, they invited the rest of the family to join them for dinner. The conversation focused on the newlyweds and how they happened to meet. Caught up in the romance of the story, one by one the men related how we had met our wives. Eventually everyone had told his story except for my youngest brother.
All eyes were on him when he said, "Oh, Cindy and I met in college. We were matched up by a computer according to compatibility."
"That’s the whole story?" my wife asked incredulously.
"Oh, no," he replied with a grin. "They’ve fixed the computer since then."
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After his marriage broke up, my manager became very philosophical. "I guess it was in our stars," he sighed.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Her astrological sign is the one for earth. Mine is the one for water. Together we made mud."
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Both my fiancé and I are in our 40s. I thought it was both amusing and touching when he assumed the classic position to propose to me—down on one bended knee.
"Are you serious?" I asked, laughing.
"Of course I’m serious," he said. "I’m on my bad knee."
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When a woman in my office became engaged, a colleague offered her some advice. "The first ten years are the hardest," she said.
"How long have you been married?" I asked.
"Ten years," she replied.
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My wife and I get along just great—except she’s a back-seat driver second to none. On my way home from work one day, my cell phone rang as I merged onto a freeway bypass. It was my wife. By chance, she had entered the bypass right behind me.
"Honey," she said, "your turn signal is still on. And put your lights on—it’s starting to rain."
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As I stripped off my sweatshirt at the breakfast table one warm morning, my T-shirt started to come off too.
My husband let out a low whistle. I took it as a compliment until he said, from behind his newspaper, "Can you believe the price of bananas?"
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A man and his wife were taking an afternoon drive through the countryside. They had just had a big argument and were not talking to one another. Finally the husband decided to break the silence and say something sarcastic to his wife: “Look at all the cows and pigs in the pasture. Don’t they remind you of your relatives?”
The wife replied, “Yes, they do. They remind me of my in-laws.”
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Though I have always been a sound sleeper, I am frequently up at 4 a.m. This is around the time that my husband, Ed, having woken up at 3, will generally crawl back into bed. Ed goes downstairs to watch TV so that his tossing and turning doesn’t wake me up. This is very considerate, except that when he returns, he likes to chat about what he’s been watching. The other night, Ed had been watching an infomercial for something called
the Steam Shark. I have a distinct memory of surfacing from the depths of sleep directly into the sentence “You can steam-clean around the base of the toilet.”
Last night it was “Honey, Bo Schembechler died.”
Schembechler, Ed explained to my inert self, was a beloved University of Michigan football coach. There is little difference between talking to me about college football when I’m asleep and talking to me about it when I’m awake. Eyelid position, basically, is the difference. Ed kept going: “He was the voice of the Wolverines.”
I was partly awake at this point, and for some reason, the sentence struck me as the funniest thing I’d heard in a very long time. Different rules apply between the hours of 2 and 4 a.m., I find. Things that would ordinarily not even qualify as mildly amusing will often, at 3 a.m., strike the ear as high comedy.
Worries are similarly warped.
I recently spent the hour from 4 to 5 a.m. worrying about the placement of two shrubs we had planted in our yard that day. Ed came in from downstairs, and I unloaded my fears about the overly close positioning of the shrubbery. I made him promise that first thing the next day, we would dig one up and move it, lest they crowd each other’s roots. In the morning, we went out to look at the plants. If anything, they looked a little lonesome there at 17 inches apart, just as the label had recommended. I am now known far and wide as the Nervous Gardener.
Anyway, once the laughter sets in, we’re both up. The topic of wolverines led to savage animals in general, and from there to a game called African Veldt. We frequently make up mindless games to wile away the time until the sandman agrees to take over the proceedings again.
“First person to run out of animals is the loser,” I said. Ed pointed out that since I had been to Africa, the game was rigged in my favor. He made me name three animals for every one of his.
“Fine. Leopard, zebra, elephant.”
“Lion,” said Ed with great confidence.
“Warthog, wildebeest, springbok.”
A long time went by. The shrubbery roots were closing in upon each other. Finally, and with great hesitancy, Ed said, “Giraffe?”
“Eland, gnu, ostrich.”
“You can’t do birds.”
“Birds are animals.”
“Okay, ant,” said Ed, and then he rolled over. He took his bottom pillow and put it on top of his head. This is known as the Ed sandwich: pillow, Ed’s head, pillow. He does this because he can’t sleep if there’s noise in the room. There isn’t now, but there will be. I make noises while I sleep, and Ed has had many hours to devote to cataloging them. Common varietals include the Click, the Tommy gun and the Darth Vader.
Light is also a problem for my husband. There can be no light in the bedroom, not even the light from the digital clock, which is hidden away on the bottom shelf of Ed’s nightstand, broadcasting the time to toddlers and gnomes. The room across the hall must also be dark. We can’t just close our bedroom door to block the light from that room, because this will make the bedroom too stuffy for Ed to sleep. That room must also have its curtains drawn. If he could, Ed would draw the curtains on the windows of our neighbors across the driveway, and on down the street, all the way to the horizon.......
Not even sure what that was about, but it was listed with other marriage jokes.
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My girlfriend walked out on me for being too old fashioned.
I thought we had good alchemy.
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My wife always prefers the stairs, whereas I always like to take the elevator.
I guess we were raised differently.
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After a long time, I told my hot coworker how I felt.
Turns out she felt the same way.
So I turned on the air conditioning.
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Good morning everyboomie.
What do you know, it's Friday.
I feel like a talking calendar.
We're having very cool weather here. Mid 60s today, 61 degrees tomorrow.
Today I took my truck to the shop for it's repairs. It'll probably be a couple of weeks before I get it back.
It'll be good as new I hope. Better be.
I took it to a Ford dealer down in Texas.
Have a super day everyone.
joe
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