Funny crap my husband says, April 2015 edition - - (1)Hello my friends!  I am back from a long hiatus from blogging. I’m sure you missed me, but I’m sure you missed my husband more. It’s okay.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that my readers love my hubby more than they love me.  Then again, what’s not to love, especially when he says some of the things he says.

So let’s get to it.  I have a long list because it’s been a while since I’ve done this so settle in for some good laughs. And I’ll say it again….he’s all mine….be jealous.

Parking Expert

Matt: “People who back into parking spaces should be sterilized.”


Matt:  “You need to pick up your prescription from Walgreens. They keep calling me and leaving me angry messages.”
Lisa: “It’s a recording.”
Matt:  “She has a tone.”

photo 2 (14)Humble Husband

Lisa:  “You’re such a martyr.
Matt:  “No I’m not.” <whispers while looking down> “I’m just a really good guy.

Accepting of Others

Matt: <while watching some woman do something strange> “What’s this bitch doing? Aside from being a bitch?

Equine Expert

Lisa:  “Why do they say ‘I have to pee like a race horse?‘”
Matt:  “Because they have to pee a lot.”
Lisa: “But then why don’t they just go pee if they have to pee? Why wait?
Matt: “This conversation is boring.

photo 1 (13)Animal Lover

Lisa: <Observing Matt pushing around the outside plants with a broom> “What are you doing? Looking for critters like chipmunks?”
Matt:  “I don’t care about chipmunks. They’re awesome and fight danger in their spare time. I’m looking for snakes. Snakes serve no purpose.” <begins singing “Chip and Dale’s” theme song>


Matt:  “What do you want to do tonight? Well, not so much do as watch.

Compassionate Man

photo 3 (10)Matt:  “My eye is starting to droop. Oh no!
Lisa:Don’t talk to me about droopy eyes. I’ve had a droopy eye for a year.
Matt:  “It’s not a competition. Let me have this.”


Matt:  “Remember that movie ‘The Land Before Time?’ When Little Leaf’s mom died and he saw his shadow and thought it was her so he started running to it and it kept getting smaller?
Matt:  “Who the hell wrote that? It’s some f*cked up sh*t.
Lisa:  “This is super random.”
Matt:  “What? I was just trying to make conversation.”

photo 2 (16)Non Judgmental

Matt:  “I’m telling you. That woman is awful. Exhibit B…For bitch.

Motivated Guy

Matt:  “I’m sleepy.
Lisa:  “You were in bed 3 hours ago.”
Matt:  “I know. I miss it.

Easily Impressed

Lisa:  “I just typed all of that on my phone without looking and there was no errors.
Matt:  “Yeah. You do that when you’re typing on the computer too. I think you think it impresses me.

photo (14)World History Expert

Matt:  “When The Italians invented pizza it was pepperoni.”
Lisa:  “You don’t know if that’s true.
Matt:  “You don’t know it’s not true.

Delightful Company

Lisa:  “You know, you’re no picnic yourself.”
Matt:  “I’m a picnic. I’m a picnic in goddamned Central Park.

Fashion Expert

Matt:  “Look at that guy’s hair. He looks like he stepped out of the 80sDo people even do their hair like that? Do hair stylists even do that to people?

photo 4 (1)Wordsmith

Matt:Where’s all this sass coming from? I didn’t know it was Sass-ur-day.


Matt:  “…Because we live in STL. Americas asshole.

Humble Man

Matt:  <cleaning glasses>
Lisa:  “Are those your regular glasses or your Warby Parker’s?”
Matt:  “Warby Parkers. ………I know.
Lisa:  “You know what?
Matt:  “I just thought you were going to say I looked good in them.

Christmas EveLightly Scented

Lisa:  “Wow. That’s a lot of cologne you just sprayed. Trying to impress someone?
Matt:  “No. I’m just not sure how dirty this shirt is.”

Sympathetic Citizen

Lisa:  “They still haven’t found those two guys who escaped from prison.”
Matt:  “I still haven’t found my glasses…I get it.

Fixer Of Things

Matt:  “The hose is flowing fine now….like my rhymes!”

Did you like this edition? Did it give you your Matt Newlin fix?  Which one was your favorite?

Add textYes readers.  It’s time for your favorite segment; the segment that keeps my blog alive because all of you love my husband almost as much as I love s’mores.


For those of you not familiar with this segment, it’s a collection of funny crap my husband said throughout the month when he wasn’t at all trying to be funny.  I type them up in my phone after he says them and save them so I can recite them to you once a month and you can howl at his comments and secretly be jealous that I’m married to the funniest man ever.

So let’s get to it.

Neat Freak

Matt:  “This room is a mess.  It looks like your closet regurgitated everywhere.  Can you clean it up? I need you to unregurgitate….or gurgitate.”

Fairytale Lover

Lisa:  <Tells a story>  “It was horrible.”

Matt:  “Well, this story certainly isn’t any fun either.”

Easy To Please

Matt:  “Can I have a bottle of water?

Lisa: <hands bottle to Matt>

Matt:  “What’s this?”

Lisa: “It’s a bottle of water I opened this morning, took one drink, and put it back in the fridge.  It’s fine.

Matt:  “When I asked for a bottle of water, it was implied it was a fresh one and not someone’s leftovers.”

photo (6)Lover of Justice

Lisa: “I need to mail this check into the court for your speeding ticket but I can’t find the court’s address.”

Matt:  “Did you make the check out to ‘The Man’ and then mail it to ‘1111 Screwing Over John Q. Public Way?‘”

Forward Thinker

Matt:  “Saying ‘outside the box’ is the most ‘inside the box’ thing you can say.”

Lisa:  “Says who?”

Matt:  “Says me.”

Fair and Balanced

Lisa:  “Why do you get so angry about the dumbest things?”

Matt:  “I don’t get angry.  I just get judgmental.

Open Minded

Lisa:  “Where are we going for dinner?”

Matt:  “I don’t know.  You haven’t given me suggestions that I can shoot down yet.

Small Talker

Matt: “Can you believe these gas prices? It’s like ‘Hello 2005!‘”

at bar in new orleans

single male seeks pregnant womanI was perusing the interwebs at 2:00 .am. the other day, looking for photos of Ryan Gosling in a Speedo intellectual articles, when I happened upon this gem of a story.

There’s a show coming to the WE Network that’s called Pregnant and Dating.

Yes, you read that right.  It’s a show about pregnant women looking for love in all the wrong places.  One of those places is clearly in the pants of someone other than their baby-daddy.

Their wallets.  The place women are looking for love is in men’s wallets, which are usually in the pants.

You’re such a perv.  Can you just focus on the story?

So many things went through my mind when I saw this article, the first of which was to remember to take my birth control pill immediately.  Pregnancy is no laughing matter, except if it’s on WE, apparently.

After that, the questions really began to fly.

First of all, is it really on WE?  Seriously?  Women’s Entertainment Network is sponsoring a show about pregnant women dating?  Shouldn’t that network focus on programming featuring shirtless men?  Wouldn’t that be more up the alley of women’s entertainment?

Come to think of it, Women’s Entertainment Network could really just be a 24 hour loop of men trying to clean toilets, change diapers and bake casseroles.

Now that’s entertainment.

But really, WE?  What about a pregnant woman trying to snag a guy before she pushes a kid out her hoo-ha is entertainment for women?  I would think women would be appalled or offended by this sort of thing; not entertained by it.

Allow me to clarify:  I would think normal women would be appalled or offended by this sort of thing.  I, however, found it hilariously awesome; but I’m certainly not normal.  Regular?  Yes.  Normal?  No.

And what kind of man deliberately looks for a woman knocked up with someone else’s kid?  It’s either a guy with a fetish or a guy with mommy issues.  There are no other logical* explanations.

*In this case, logical = non-creepy.

No need for these!  Just kidding.  STDs are NO laughing matter. photo credit: grafixtek via photopin cc

No need for these! Just kidding. STDs are NO laughing matter.
photo credit: grafixtek via photopin cc

The only reasoning I can come up with for why men deliberately seek out pregnant women is because they know these moms-to-be are easy dates.

Literally, they’re easy.  They put out.

After all, the proof is in the pudding and in this case, the pudding is the uterus.  Isn’t that how the metaphor goes?

Perhaps these men figure all they have to do is buy dinner and iced tea for the pregnant lady and she’ll immediately turn into a sex machine.  What they don’t realize is she will immediately turn into a machine but the product she churns out won’t be sex.

It will be flatulence.  Lots and lots of flatulence.

photo credit: ~C4Chaos via photopin cc

photo credit: ~C4Chaos via photopin cc

It will be an eye-watering surprise I’d like to witness, so in that respect, perhaps WE has the right idea.

I also hope WE has air freshener, as pregnant farts can be quite ripe.

These men also probably suspect pregnant women are cheap dates since they don’t drink alcohol while they’re pregnant…or at least I hope they don’t drink alcohol while they’re pregnant.

What these guys don’t understand is whatever money they save on booze, they will spend on appetizers, meals, desserts, post-dessert meals and midnight servings of ribs.  And it will be a full slab of ribs; none of that half slab business.

This photo is awesome and creepy for the exact same reasons. photo credit: 倪貝兒 via photopin cc

This photo is awesome and creepy for the exact same reasons.
photo credit: 倪貝兒 via photopin cc

Come to think of it, that’s just a description of what it was like to date me, except I took the booze too.

I can’t imagine the caliber of men wanting to date these knocked up chicks is particularly high.

In all actuality, perhaps that’s why they’re trying to snag pregnant women instead of non-pregnant women; because women not growing human life in their uteri find them repulsive.  Perhaps these men assume a pregnant woman has a strong nurturing instinct, so she may take pity date them.

See what I mean?  Mommy issues.

I can’t imagine what kind of shit show this program will be, and I haven’t decided if I’m going to tune in or not.  On the one hand, I want to see who these people are, and what their reasoning is for such ridiculousness.

On the other hand, I’d still like to believe there are some normal people in the world, and I’m confident this program would seal the deal in convincing me that all people are crazy.

Except for me, of course.  I’m not crazy.  I’m totally normal.

I feel like there's a joke here about either doing it or plunging a toilet.  I'll let you decide. photo credit: cjggbella via photopin cc

I feel like there’s a joke here about either doing it or plunging a toilet. I’ll let you decide.
photo credit: cjggbella via photopin cc

ninja momFrickety Frick, people!  I’m this month’s assassin in the Character Assassination Carousel over at  She’s a big deal and has a hilarious blog and I’m actually still in shock that she enlisted me to be an assassin.  I wonder if I get paid in Skittles.

I wonder if I can get paid in Skittles.

In case you’re not “in the know,” The Character Assassination Carousel is a monthly murder of a children’s book.  Don’t worry, it’s a clean kill, so there’s no messy clean up.

Each month a new assassin takes his/her best shot at a ridiculous children’s book.  This month, I’m mocking “Where’s Waldo?

I know, it’s an easy target, but I’m an easy girl.

Wait…that came out wrong…



Where's Waldo-I don’t have kids, which is probably for the best, but doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy my monthly subscription to Highlights Magazine, or an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.  (He lives in a Pineapple, people!  UNDER THE SEA!)

If only enjoying children’s TV shows could get me into the pre-boarding spot at the airport.  Apparently you actually have to have kids with you for that.  Pfft!

Despite my lack of little ones, I still enjoy the beloved “Where’s Waldo?” books***.  Why wouldn’t I?  Each edition is visually stimulating, and even more maddening than the next.

***NOTE:  If any of you would like to peruse one of these fine pieces of literature, I would recommend purchasing one for yourself.  In my experience, parents frown upon strangers looking over their child’s shoulder pointing out Waldo.  This activity can get you escorted out of the airport and placed on some sort of watch list.  Hypothetically, of course.***

photo credit: rhett maxwell via photopin cc

photo credit: rhett maxwell via photopin cc

However, with my love of tracking down the elusive Waldo comes a series of questions.  I’m demanding answers and hoping to get more than “Because Waldo is awesome.” (Thanks for that enlightening tid-bit, Mom.)

I deserve better than that, and so do the fine kids who are looking for him.

For those of you not on the same heightened literary plane as me, “Where’s Waldo?” is a series of picture books where the reader is summoned to find Waldo in a sea of people, places and things.

It’s harder than it sounds, as Waldo is a master of disguise, which is probably why his books have been so successful; his mortgage payment depends on not being able to locate him easily.

So the first obvious question I have is “Where’s Waldo?”  Although you may be able to locate him on paper, as far as I know, no one has ever met this mysterious fellow.  We’ve only seen his meme.

photo credit: palindrome6996 via photopin cc

photo credit: palindrome6996 via photopin cc

Does he ever go out in public as himself?  He doesn’t do book signings or publicity junkets, which truly speaks volumes to the success of his books.  Most publicists demand such things to drive sales.  Maybe he just doesn’t need it.

Really though, where is he?

Honestly, I hope he’s in prison, because that guy is probably a pedophile and shouldn’t be featured in children’s books anyway.

Something about him hiding in plain sight just creeps me out and makes me wonder if he’s housing a stash of fingers in a hope chest in his basement.

If no one has ever met him, do we know if he’s a real person? Maybe he’s the mythical Keyser Soze of children’s books.**

**Where’s Waldo? books are not only children’s books.  They’re also books for a highly sophisticated writer who writes a fascinating and hilarious blog  I’m just saying.

photo credit: Carolyn Coles via photopin cc

photo credit: Carolyn Coles via photopin cc

Since we don’t know who he is, the next logical question is “Why, Waldo?  Why are you hiding?

The first reason that comes to mind is that he’s on the lamb.  For what?  I’m not sure, but I have a feeling it has to do with loan sharking.  I just have a hunch.

Trust me on this.

Why is he so intent on hiding?  I suspect it’s because he’s wanted by Interpol, which would make sense, as his travels span many continents.  Has anyone ever considered looking at his passport?  Is his name listed as only “Waldo” and nothing more?

How did he get to be so good at hiding?  What do we know about this Waldo guy, anyway?  We allow his likeness to come into our homes and sit on our coffee tables and backs of toilets, yet we know so little about him and his profession.

Is he a spy?  Where did he get his mad hiding skills?  Was it from years of playing hide and seek with his siblings?  Does he have siblings?  Did he assassinate them at a young age?  Is that why he’s on the lamb?

Now, I realize this next question may seem to be off topic, but follow it through.  “Why is he always wearing the same sweater?

It seems to me that if you want to blend in, wearing the same red and white striped sweater isn’t the best way to become a wallflower (unless you’re in a candy cane-themed room.  Then it’s truly the only way to become a wallflower).

photo credit: walknboston via photopin cc

photo credit: walknboston via photopin cc

Either way, I would think frequent costume changes would assist in avoiding detection.  Does he have several of those same sweaters, or is he just wearing the exact same outfit everyday?

I hope for everyone’s sake he has several of the same sweaters and he swaps them out every few days.

Otherwise, he’d be easy to locate based purely on body odor alone.  I suspect all that evading authorities would cause one to perspire, and if that sweater is a polyester blend, it will hold onto a stench until the end of time.

And what about those glasses?  Why not switch those up every now and again too?  I know the hipster look is in style at the moment (arguably), but shouldn’t he consider rocking some different frames to avoid detection?  Maybe he should get some contacts too.  Does he have a condition preventing a change in eyewear?  Those astigmatisms can be a real bitch.

And yet, despite all of my questions, he continues to evade all of us, and in a strange way, I say “Bravo to you, Waldo, if that is your real name.

On second thought, maybe he doesn’t skirt all of us.  Maybe it’s just my prying eyes he manages to avoid.  But then again, my eyes are usually filtered through a hazy film of vodka, so perhaps he isn’t as elusive as he thinks he is.


photo credit: Lynn Friedman via photopin <a href=""

photo credit: Lynn Friedman via photopin


I’m not sure if this is on the up-and-up to disclose other assassins, as I don’t know if assassins have an oath of silence.  I guess we will all find out soon if I mysteriously go missing.  For now, I shall ignore Omerta and tell you who the previous assassin was.  It was my friend Sarah at The Sadder But Wiser Girl.

Sadder but wiser

She’s guest posted on my page before, and she’s awesome and hilarious.  If you go visit her, and you should, tell her I sent you.  Please also tell her our secret code she knows you’re legit. It’s Character Assassin Carousel.

It’s so obvious no one will guess it.  Let’s keep that password our little secret.

Who is the next assassin?

Her name is Bonnie Blackburn.  The name alone suggests her character assassin will be brilliant!

sucker1They say there’s a sucker born every minute.  I don’t know if that’s true, and I don’t know if that cliche is talking about people or actual suckers.

I hope it’s referring to people and not actual suckers, as I would think  more than one lolly pop a minute would need to be born in order to meet the public’s demand.  (By the public, I mean me.  I love me some suckers.)

<unwraps third sucker of the day>

Speaking of suckers, two amazingly hilarious websites have agreed to allow me to grace their pages with my ridiculousness.  Yeah, they clearly had a moment of weakness.

Granted, it’s probably because I weakened them by reading my blog aloud to them in a British accent; just as my blog is meant to be read.

Regardless of the reason, they responded to my threats request, and agreed to bring me on.

kid looking with binoculorsSuckas!

So please check out these two amazing websites, as both are hi-larious.

The first one is In The Powder Room, which is a page with shorter posts (500 words or less).  I know!  Can you believe I can limit myself to 500 words?  They struck a mean bargain.

My first post is about the interesting aroma in the air in NYC in spring.  Semen.  It’s semen, people.

Yes, I cite a legitimate website and article and this is actually a legitimate thing.  Just read about it.

dog looking at computerThe second site is Humor Outcasts, which is a funny website that has varying articles, columns, small quips, etc.

It’s a great site where you can spend hours reading all different kinds of things.

My first post there is what I think should be on Kim Kardashian’s baby’s registry.  I also coin the name “Baby Karwestian,” which I think is going to go viral.

I mean, come on.  That name is brilliant.

So please check out these posts and support me in my writings there.  I don’t want to get kicked out of The Powder Room and it would just be embarrassing to be outcast from a place with “outcast” in the name.

baby looking at computerNot to be confused with the rapper, OutKast.

So unwrap those suckers and read some of my posts.  And then comment and say how much you love them; unless you hate them.

Then just lie.

Sarcasm and sweatMy husband goes to the gym every day.  I know.  He’s obviously a douche.  Believe me, I didn’t find him this way.

When we met, I was a runner and worked out every day.  I would actually crave it and if I didn’t make it to the gym, I would have a bad day.  WHAT?!  I was clearly delusional.

I wonder if I had a tumor that was pushing on my brain, forcing me to make irrational decisions.  My dad had a brain tumor years ago, although he just got sick and lost weight.  I definitely don’t have that kind.  (Don’t worry, he survived and is alive and well, and warning me of the dangers of diabetes.)

260What was I talking about?  Ah yes, making fun of my husband.

Somehow during our relationship, mostly at my prodding, my husband discovered running.  I, on the other hand, discovered mint-flavored Oreos.

Although I still go to the gym, I’m not a regular anymore like my husband is.  He goes every morning at 5:30, while I’m at home fast asleep, dreaming of pizza and wings.  It’s a system that works for us.

This morning, I went to the gym with him.  It was partially because I was awake when he went, and partially because I inhaled half of a cookie cake the night before.

No joke.  I totally did.

We headed to the gym, and when we arrived, two employees greeted us as we scanned in.  Matt went first, and then said the following to me:

You’re going to take your little card, and put it up here to the scanner.  It will scan it and let the gym know we pay for a membership for you.”

Both employees stared at me in horror.

getting kissWe have a very sarcastic relationship, and a phrase commonly heard in our house is “I’m so sick of your face.”  This is always uttered by me.

Am I sick of his face?  It depends on the day and the amount of butt grabs I’ve received, but I love my husband more than anyone.  Just don’t tell him that.

Of course, we sound serious and the woman looked at me in shock, clearly amazed that I allowed such condescension.  Clearly, she knew I normally wore the pants in the relationship, and was confused I was so passive.

Normally, I would call him a dick-face or an a$$, but I decided to have a little fun at his expense.

I looked down to the ground, scanned my card without eye contact, and slowly turned around.  Matt kissed me on the cheek and went to the weight room.  As he walked away, I looked pleadingly at the girl and mouthed “Help me!” before shuffling toward the elliptical machines.

I suspect the cops will be giving my husband a call later today to investigate the allegations the woman most certainly filed with the local police department.  I will make sure I’m not home when he gets the call.

Maggie's collage

Photos copyrighted by Maggie Stolzberg.
Reproduction of this material is prohibited and violates federal law.
Check out her site at
She’s a talented photographer and an even more amazing human being.

****NOTE:  We let the employee know we were joking.  This is a sarcastic post, and in no way is an attempt to mock those dealing with spousal abuse.  If you are suffering from abuse, there are options. PLEASE, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−SAFE(7233).  

You don’t have to live in fear, and there are resources to assist you.  If you have questions, visit their website at or tell the local authorities or someone you trust.  Although I jokingly reference it in this post, actual spousal abuse occurs and is no laughing matter.

It’s not your fault, but you can get help.****

Voicemails to my hubandMy husband never listens to voicemail from me.  I find this strange because if I got a voicemail from me, I would listen to it immediately.

I might actually ignore the call from me just so I could receive a voicemail and save it…so I could hear my voice whenever I needed comfort; like whenever Taylor Swift comes out with a new album.  (We get it.  You were dumped and can’t ever find love.  It’s probably because you make a pouty face in photos and you’ve never been introduced to a straightening iron.)

Excuse me a moment while I leave myself a voicemail.

Okay, I’m back.  I left an inspirational voicemail to myself questioning why Luv’s doesn’t make tampons.  It seems like such a no-brainer and a great cross-marketing idea.

As you can see, my voicemails are brilliant, which is all the more reason my husband should listen to them.  So every now and then, I like to leave him voicemail with interesting (and hilarious) content, just to see if he listens.  Here are a few examples of my recent attempts:

  • “I cheated on you with the busboy from Applebee’s and we’re having a love child we’re going to name after the appetizer that brought us together.”
  • “I just violated myself with a pineapple and wanted you to know in case there’s some extra rind down there.”
  • “On a totally unrelated note, we need more pineapple.  And Neosporin.”
  • “I know you’ve been trying to get into that zumba class at the gym, and today they told me there was an opening for you.  I told them you didn’t look good in neon, and declined the invitation. You don’t look good in neon.”
  • “I spiked your lunch with a diuretic because you look a little bloated.  You’re welcome.”
  • “When you come home today, whatever you do, don’t look in the hall closet.  I rescued a feral cat today and he doesn’t like men, or the smell of cheap cologne.  You lose on both counts.”

I’ve never received a response.

If you’d like me to leave you inspirational voicemail like this, just let me know.  I won’t charge anything more than the long distance charge I get when I use my rotary phone from my land line.

Late to Pinterest partyI’m always late to the party.  Half the time I don’t even show up, because I either get lost or I lose focus when I see a White Castle.  The Pinterest party is no different.

Okay, so I’m not talking about an actual Pinterest party where people gather and make craft projects.

I’m confident I wouldn’t be invited to one of those either, as I’m sure there’s something in every one’s home owner’s insurance policy prohibiting my presence when glue guns are involved.

It’s not an unreasonable clause.

Since I’m late to these sorts of things, when everyone was excited about the Pinterest craze and pinning away, I was using my dial up and wondering where everyone in the AOL chat rooms had gone.

Apparently, they went to prison because Chris Hansen and To Catch a Predator put the smack down on them.

I’ve just now figured out what Pinterest is all about, and have started following several people, most of which have their AARP membership cards, yet still have a better understanding of the interwebs.

Interestingly, based upon some of their pins, some also have an in-depth understanding of what was referred to in “Fifty Shades of Grey,” but that’s another blog post that requires lots of liquor to get through.

Making my own captionsRecently I decided to jump onto Pinterest to see what my pinning friends were up to.  Wow.  I wasn’t sorry I did.

It was a gold mine of hilarity; or at least to me it was.  It’s not that the items pinned were funny, or that the comments about the pins were funny either.

It’s the comments in my head that came when I looked at the pins that brought me to tears.  I decided to take action.

If people weren’t going to write funny comments about a third use for a toilet paper roll, then I would.  It was my calling and I felt compelled to oblige.

So here are some of my pins and comments.  I’m confident Pinterest will kick me off the site at some point, but I’m not sure when.  Until then, I shall pin away!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

This next one I couldn’t get all in one shot because I’m not computer savvy at all.   Don’t judge.  I just figured out Pinterest so cut a girl some slack.  Since I’m good to you, I wanted you to see the full photo, as it’s quite important to understand my comment.  Duh.

See?  Now wasn’t that super fun?  Actually, it was a real you-know-what trying to figure out how to get all these photos onto this blog.   Hopefully you guys enjoyed these pins and comments. If so, let me know and perhaps I will do some more “sarcastic pinning” in the future.

If you are just dying to see my boards, (my Pinterest boards, you pervs), then you can “follow” me on Pinterest where I’m lisanewlin.  (I know.  My Pinterest name is so incognito.)

But don’t follow me in real life.  That’s creepy and will just end up leading you to either a donut shop or the liquor store.  I’ll just meet you there instead.

Happy pinning!

NOT my husband.

NOT my husband.

My husband is a bit of a nerd. Not like a Steve Urkel nerd with the annoying voice and the moose knuckle that almost certainly guarantees he won’t be capable of producing children.

He’s more of the Ronald Miller kind of nerd from Can’t Buy Me Love. He’s adorable and people love him, although he doesn’t cry at New Year’s Eve parties and only sleeps in the shed when he’s drunk.

So please understand, as I’ve come to, that some of the things my husband does can be a bit strange to someone else, but in his world, they are completely normal.

Getting up early to watch the Oscar nominations and then yell at the TV when you don’t like the nominations is normal, right?

The other day I received a call from my lovely groom advising me that he was sitting at a Quik Trip parking lot approximately 4 miles away from our house waiting to meet a girl. WHAT?! Was he waiting to meet a hooker?

dog on computerI wasn’t so much upset about the possible infidelity as I was the cost of the excursion. He better not be hooking it up with the cash I could be using to buy myself some Chipotle and a bottle of Grey Goose.

Come on. I have priorities.

I asked him why he was meeting a girl and why he was in the Quik Trip parking lot, although I certainly understand the appeal of that place. Their corn dogs are delicious.

He said he looked on Craigslist for used books and found a book he wanted to buy. Naturally, I assumed the “book” was really DVDs of p0rn, but I decided to play along. Sure. You spent your lunch hour looking for used books on line. <wink, wink>

And I spent my lunch hour doing squats at the gym instead of harassing the waiter at Chilis’s for yet another round of bottomless chips and salsa. How gullible did he think I was?

He said it was a female who agreed to sell him the “book” and he was meeting her there to proceed with the transaction. I inquired as to how much this little endeavor was going to set us back, and he responded that it was only $40.00.

Um, “only $40.00” for a “book”? I considered telling him to abandon that plan, get a year’s subscription to Playboy and come home, with a slushy from Quik Trip in hand. I’m only human.

I told him he was probably being set up to be robbed, and he was a total sucker. I immediately regretted not increasing my life insurance policy on him. I guess I had to hope he pulled through the mugging.

jar of moneyHe told me that he didn’t think he was going to be robbed at a well-lit Quik Trip, and he figured the girl probably thought he was there to rape her, so they were even. I’m not sure how attempted robbery + attempted rape = nothing, but perhaps I will ask R. Kelly, as I’m sure he will have an answer.

I told him I would need constant updates from him on his whereabouts, so at least if he got shot, I could respond immediately. I watch House, so I know how to respond in moments of crisis…with Vicodin.

He rolled his eyes and said he would keep me updated.  I realize I didn’t see him roll his eyes, but I’m quite confident at the minimum he rolled his eyes. I suspect hand gestures were also involved.

I waited a few minutes and then began texting him ridiculous things about how I didn’t want him to get gang raped, or how he should try to convince the perpetrators to be gentle. He didn’t respond, probably because he was laughing too hard at my witty texts.

A few minutes later I received a call from his phone. Naturally, I assumed it was his assaulter looking for money. I answered in my strongest voice, and I heard him on the other end. Great. They were holding him hostage…and he had our $40.00 in cash! What was a girl to do?

I asked him if the assailants were treating him well, and he said he was fine, the transaction was completed and he was heading home. I told him I didn’t understand his statement, as I was waiting for the preferred lingo like “the wolf has left the building” or “barter complete.” (I like old school terms).

He told me he was coming home and abruptly ended the call. When he arrived home I looked for his “book” and discovered it was a textbook about film and movies. What?!

He didn’t really buy a textbook from someone at a Quik Trip did he? I asked if that was the book he purchased, and he said it was. His excitement was less than thrilling for me, as I realized I may have preferred the purchase of p0rn.Nerd alert!I asked him how the deal went down, and he said she exited her vehicle, which was covered in Hello Kitty stickers, and came to his car.

She handed him the book and he handed her the money. I asked if he flipped through it to make sure it was legit, but he said he trusted her. Whatever.

He said the girl asked him “So, which teacher do you have this semester for this class?” to which my lovely husband replied

Oh, I’m not taking this class. I just bought this book for fun.”

He said her reaction was a mixture of confusion and sadness, and I’m pretty sure at that point she assumed she was going to be assaulted by my husband only to have her fingernails removed and fed to her cat.

She practically ran back to her car and screeched away, her Miley Cyrus t-shirt flapping as she ran.

I took one look at my husband in his shirt and tie and realized there are worse things in life than having a husband who can be on the nerdy side.

That poor guy has to deal with my disasters on a daily basis, so what did I care if he wanted to read a textbook for fun? I kissed him on the cheek and told him I was happy he got what he wanted.

He responded with pure joy and said he found another post where the seller had not only the textbook, but the workbook and quizzes as well. It was going to be a long night….


As you may know, I recently wrote a blog post about the note I wanted to write to “that guy” at the gym.  You all know who I’m talking about.  He’s the guy you  desperately move away from in the weight room when he’s grunting away and flexing his pecs.

But to keep things fair (and to convince my trainer Marbi that I’m not a man-hater), I decided to write a note to “that girl” at the gym as well.  You all know who I’m talking about, and since I saw the epitome of “that girl” this morning at the gym, I am filled with thoughts (and gas) and ready to begin.

1.  Lay off the eye make up.

Do you realize you’re at the gym?  Wearing a smoky eye is for your night job, which by the looks of your eyeliner for your “daytime look,” most likely involves a street corner and a pair of stilettos.

It’s not necessary to wear make up to the gym.  It’s not even necessary to brush your hair to go to the gym.

The fact that you have on several layers of make up tells me that you either came straight from the club from the night before, or you have way too much time on your hands (and mascara).

So tone it down when you come to the gym.  This isn’t Broadway and you don’t need the stage makeup (although I’m pretty sure the stage is where you feel most alive…and how you make your rent payment).

running on treadmill2.  Wear longer shorts

Yes, your legs are nice and toned (and shaved, just like “that guy’s” are), but would you mind throwing on a pair of shorts that go down a little further than just over your butt cheeks?

I have no desire to see your kooter when you stretch your hamstrings, nor do I want to wonder who does your waxing job.

I’m not asking you to wear pants to the gym, but at least wear something that goes halfway down your thigh.

3.  Don’t act irritated when people stare at you

Isn’t that what you want?  I just guessed you were looking for attention with your caked on makeup and your kooter shorts.  No?

Well don’t glare at me when I look at you with judging eyes.  You don’t seem to hide your disdain for me when you stare at my protruding belly with judgement, as it’s clear I ate a second helping of hummus last night.

So I will judge you for looking like a hootchie and you will judge me for loving carbs.  It’s a fair trade and we’re even, although I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t blow over with a stiff breeze (or a stiff drink).

4.  Wear an appropriate fitting shirt

Yes, you have great boobs, but I don’t want to see them bouncing around when you work out.  Get a sports bra with some support ASAP.  Or at least get one with an under wire.

And don’t act like it’s a coincidence that you wear a tiny tank top and then just happen to run on the treadmill.  We all know it’s calculated and you love the feel of your tits hitting your chin as you run your 5k.

And yes, I’m looking at you.  Not so much because of how you’re running, but I’m trying to figure out how you are able to lay on your stomach when you sleep, as those things are definitely the largest part of your body, and I’m pretty sure the left one looks like it might explode.

5.  Stop wearing jewelry to the gym

pearlsMust you accessorize to get your sweat on?  I’m lucky if I brush my teeth before going to the gym, and yet you manage to put on earrings, a necklace and the Tiffany’s knock of bracelet you got off eBay.

By the way, congrats for being the highest bidder with your $9.99 bid.  You’re quite the high roller.  Haven’t you noticed that no one else is wearing jewelry at the gym (except for “that guy” who is probably sporting a fake gold chain).

The only jewelry I wear to the gym is my wedding ring, but that’s stuck on my fat finger for life, and it ain’t going anywhere unless my husband wants to buy me a larger diamond.  In that case I will get out the butter and remove it immediately…and then make popcorn.

6.  Stop complaining that you’re fat

scale1.jpgWe all know you aren’t, and you know it too, as evidenced by the fact that you seem mesmerized by your own appearance.  And I definitely don’t want to hear you complain that you are full because you ate a salad and a handful of almonds.

I just knocked back 2 cheeseburgers and fries and yet here I am, briskly walking away on the treadmill at a zero incline.

You don’t hear me complaining about being overweight, and I have to wipe sweat out of the various folds of fat on my body.  So eat a ham sandwich and quit complaining about your weight.

We all know you look fabulous, which might be one of the reasons we hate you so much.  And you’re cute, which just makes it worse.

Okay, I will stop for now, mostly because I’m scared “that girl” at my gym will read this, know I’m talking about her, and then bench press me when I go to the gym next time.  (But the joke’s on her, as I’m even heavier than I look and I’m really retaining water).

So the next time you throw on a dirty t-shirt and your favorite pair of stained sweat pants and head to the gym, make sure you keep a look out for “that girl.”

She will be easy to spot, as she’s usually the one surrounded by doting men, and she’s always close to a mirror.