Funny crap my husband says, April 2015 edition - lisanewlin.com -Yesterday Matt and I celebrated our 5 year wedding anniversary. And by “celebrated” I mean we took a nap after work, went to our favorite hole-in-the-wall Thai place, watched “Game of Thrones” and were in bed by 9:30.

What? That’s not what you were thinking was a perfect way to celebrate a 5th year of marital bliss?

So I assume you will forgive me for being a day late on what is clearly my readers’ favorite blog post of the month. Last month was definitely my favorite but Matt said some real gems this month too. He’s really out doing himself.

I won’t make you read my words anymore and will just get you to the crack that is this monthly column. Enjoy!

Supportive Husband

Lisa:  “I need to go to the gym. I need you to make me go to the gym whenever you go.”
Matt:  “Ok.”
Lisa:  “I mean it. Don’t make me go, but–
Matt:  “Sweetie, I understand the fine line I’m walking here.”

Music Fanatic

Lisa:  “That song is catchy.”
Matt:  “Yeah.  Like Goddamned syphilis.”

photo 3Considerate Spouse

Matt:  “I’m going to turn off the light. Can you use a book light to read?”
Lisa:  “Um. Ok.”
Matt:  “I don’t want to resent you if you leave it on, but this light hurts my eyes.”

Multi-tasker

Matt:  “There’s just not enough hours in the day…to get in all the sleep I want.”

Health Nut

Matt:  “We need to eat more legumes.”
Lisa:  “You don’t like them. It’s beans and stuff.”
Matt:  “I like some of them. I like jelly legumes.”

Attention to detail

Lisa:  “Did you see I finally framed that photo and put it up?”
Matt:  “Yeah. I noticed it yesterday but didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t know how long it had been up.”

Manly Man

Lisa:  “Why don’t you use that Caress body wash in the shower?”
Matt:  “I don’t think Caress can handle my body odor. I sweat like a man.”

photo 2Articulate

Matt:  “Where are the things and the stuff?”

Neat freak

Lisa:  “What’s with this stain on the floor?”
Matt:  “Yeah. I tried to clean it. I didn’t try that hard.”

Party Pooper

Matt:  <he says out of nowhere> “You know what I was never a fan of?”
Lisa:  “What?”
Matt:  “The hokey pokey. I just didn’t see what all the hype was about.”

Friend To All

Lisa:  “…and that’s why people like her.”
Matt:  “What?! People love me! I mean, except for that bitch.”

Pillow Talker

Matt:  “We have to get up. If I lay here much longer I’m going to fall asleep.
Lisa:  “Our stimulating conversation can’t keep you awake?”
Matt:  “No, it won’t.”

Lisa and Matt date nightAttention To Detail

Matt:  “Ah! I have dried shaving cream in my ear. Ah! It’s in my other ear. That’s not good. I had meetings today!”

Martyr

Lisa:  <after explaining why he has to use both body wash and soap>  “It’s exhausting being you isn’t it?”
Matt:  “Yeah. Why do you think I’m tired all the time?”

Excellent Coworker

Matt:  “I have to bring a rotisserie to a potluck tomorrow.”
Lisa:  “Thanks for not offering me to make a ham like you did last time. It’s a lot of work.”
Matt:  “How would you know? You never made it.”

Friend of Fashion

Matt:  “You have a stain on your shirt.”
Lisa:  “Really? Is it noticeable?”
Matt:  “Not more than your other shirts.”

Honest Spouse

Lisa:  <Hears a smash in the basement.> “Did I just hear something break?”
Matt:  <Coming from the sound of the smash>  “No.  Hey, did you break this vase down here?”

Modest

Matt:  “It takes a lot to keep up with this beauty.  Some might think it’s easy, but it takes work.”

weddingLover of Children (But Not In A Creepy Way)

Matt:  “That kid has been playing by himself for two hours. It’s sad as shit.”

Considerate of Others’ Problems

Lisa:  “I’m still mad at you for throwing out those flowerpots.”
Matt:  “Sounds like a YP and not a MP.”
Lisa:  “What’s that?”
Matt:  “A ‘your problem’ not ‘my problem.'”

photo 1 (3)Accepting of Others

Matt:  “I didn’t know you were running for judicial office……Miss Judgey.”

Frugal Shopper

Lisa:  “If I had a truck I would pick up so much free stuff from Craigslist.”
Matt:  “You don’t need to buy a bunch of stuff.
Lisa:  “I wouldn’t buy it. It would be free.”
Matt:  “I know. I didn’t say ‘buy.'”
Lisa:   “Yes you did. You said ‘buy.'”
Matt:  “I’m saying ‘bye’ to this conversation.”

All joking aside, happiest of anniversaries to my beloved husband.  I really do adore him!

Which was your favorite?

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Other places I’m on the web this week!

9 Things Your Husband Does That Should Be Sexy But Totally Aren’t

8 Ridiculously Petty (And Funny) Fights I’ve Actually Had With My Husband

Woohoo!  The 10 Stages of Getting Wedding Drunk (As Told Through Funny Gifs)

15 Secrets She Tells Her Girlfriends (But Never Her Husband) 

15 Things That Will Surprise You About Men When You Move In

funny crap my husband says, September 2014 (1)Hey guys!

Summer is over which means I’m in a perpetual state of sadness.  However, one of the few things that lifts my spirits is posting some of the funny crap my husband said when he wasn’t trying to be funny.

I’ve had a rough few weeks recently and this guy has gotten me through them with a lot of laughs.  (And bourbon.  I’ve had a LOT of bourbon these last 2 weeks.)

Since I love you guys, I’m sharing some of the wonderful nuggets of wisdom my husband shared with me this past month.  I really need to market him into a 1-900 number of inspirational sh*t.

Lover Not A Fighter

Matt:  “I’m totally amorous.  If I was a drink I’d be an amorous-o-sour.”

Inventor

Lisa: <Walks into room to find Matt laying on the couch.> “I thought for sure you’d be drinking a glass of wine.

Matt:  <Points to glass of wine between his legs> “I’m hands-free with this b*tch!

Buddhist/Spiritual Adivsor

Matt: “I could totally be a Buddhist if it wasn’t for all that silence stuff.”

photo (1)

He was NOT happy I took this photo.

Scientist

Lisa:  “Close the curtains. People can see inside the house now that it’s dark.”

Matt:  “No they can’t.”

Lisa:  “Yes they can. You can see inside the house when it’s dark outside and light inside the house.”

Matt:  “No. It’s the opposite of that.”

Lisa:  “So you’re saying you can see inside the house when it’s light outside and dark in the house.”

Matt:  “Of course not. It’s the opposite of that. It’s science honey. I can’t explain it.”

Considerate Spouse

Matt:  “Ouch!  Ouch! This is hot!“<Throws bag of steamed vegetables at Lisa>  “You take it!

Speaker of Sweet-Nothings

Matt:  <laughing>  “I want to say something but it’s gonna creep you out.”

Lisa:  “Just say it.”

Matt: “No. I’m creeped out just thinking about it.”

photo (2)

Please excuse my humidity hair. New Orleans is humid y’all!

A Jokester

Lisa: “That’s a Matt Newlin joke.” 

Matt: “No it’s not. I wouldn’t ever say something so lame…unless it was about a horse that had to be put down.” <Gives a Goddamned sh*t-eating grin>

Doctor Love

Lisa:  “I need to get my birth control prescription.”

Matt:  “Where do you go for that? Do you go to a urologist? Or maybe a HERologist?

World’s Best Listener

Lisa:  “And so I was thinking…

Matt:  <Gets up and leaves the room> “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Lisa:  “I was in the middle of telling you a story.”

Matt:  “I knew where it was going.”

We really do love each other!

We really do love each other!

Tom Hardy’s #1 Fan

Lisa:  “Isn’t Tom Hardy bisexual? I thought he was.”

Matt:  “Tom Hardy is not bisexual. He’s just so straight that he bangs guys. That doesn’t make him bisexual.”

Steel Trap Memory

Lisa: “What else did you say the other night when we were talking about going to Mexico?

Matt: “I don’t know. You know I don’t listen to myself.

So what was your favorite Matt Newlism of the month? Tell me all about it!

My husband is sleeping with someone else.  I’ve tried to deny it but I can’t do it anymore. I can no longer turn a blind eye to him sharing our bed with another.  The object of his affections?

I can't deny her beauty.

I can’t deny her beauty.

His knee pillow.

Shady Jack loves her.

Shady Jack loves her.

Her name is Charlene.  Lovely name, isn’t it?  He refers to her as his knee pillow.  I refer to her as his whore.

Since he has bony knees, he says he needs her to keep them from knocking together while he sleeps,.  I’m not so sure if he really has this problem or if he just likes the way she feels.

She’s fluffy and snuggley and warm and I understand why she’s so appealing.  Hell, sometimes I sleep with her when Matt isn’t around.

Charlene is a slut that way.

I’m not sure when it began, but the hardest part of all of this is knowing I introduced them.  I brought her into our home and into our bed.  I just didn’t know at the time the ramifications of my actions.

I do now.

Sweet Max tolerates her (but didn't know his photo was being taken)

Sweet Max tolerates her (but didn’t know his photo was being taken)

And now I;m fearful he’s addicted to Charlene and will never leave her.  He claims she helps him sleep.  Isn’t that always the way addiction starts?  “Just this one time to help me sleep.”  Before I knew it he was using her several nights a week.

And now? Now he won’t go a single night without her.

Maybe I shouldn’t be worried.  Maybe I should let it be.  If he needs a knee pillow I should be okay with it.  After all, I need my linen spray and eye mask to sleep (sometimes served with a side of vodka).

Maybe I should learn to love Charlene.  She isn’t going anywhere anytime soon so maybe I should embrace her…literally.  She does make a good pillow.

I don’t know.  Maybe I should take some time to figure all of this out.  I think I’ll sleep on it…with Charlene, of course.

Bentley hates her.  Bentley hates everyone that threatens his mama.

Bentley hates her. Bentley hates everyone that threatens his mama.

Shame On you. What did you think this title meant?!  Puh-lease!  After all, I’m a happily married woman. Geez! How about this? I will make you a deal, kind of like The Price Is Right only I don’t have a plastic face and a creepy skinny microphone (although I do suggest you control the pet population and spay/neuter).

Get your mind out of the gutter and I will get my hands out of the bag of chips and we will both continue.

My husband and I need a new mattress.  No, that’s not right.  We needed a new mattress about a year ago.  We are past that stage now.  Our spines are begging us for relief and the nightly poking of springs in our back is no longer something we can deal with.

So we decided to bite the bullet (and the pillow, as our backs were killing us).  We then started the hated task of shopping for a new bed.  We did this on a Saturday night because we are total losers and didn’t have anything else planned.

We headed to the first store and began trying out mattresses (by laying on them jackasses.)  You should know that I planned ahead and wore comfy clothes. How do you know how the bed will feel unless you try it out in the clothes you would normally be wearing?

Of course, I wanted to ask if I could remove my bra and underwear, bring in a couple hundred pounds of dogs and get to business. I decided against asking and settled for the dog hair I inadvertently transferred from my t-shirt (that black dog hair really pops atop a white mattress).

One thing we noticed throughout our excursion was there was a common denominator in mattress shopping, and it wasn’t the constant urge to grab a blanket and take a nap (although that urge became quite strong).  Rather, it was the creepy disheveled salesmen.  Was that a requirement for mattress salesmen?

Come to think of it, it probably is a requirement as it’s probably a good thing. Doesn’t that suggest that they have comfy beds at home that they don’t want to leave? I pictured these guys with one hand in their pants and another in a bag of chips, lounging in bed watching Nick at Nite and infomercials  (there I go talking about chips again).

The more I think about it, I couldn’t buy a mattress from a skinny guy. It wouldn’t make sense. It would be like getting a gym membership from a fat person, or advice on love from Jessica Simpson.

The first guy we met was Clark. Yes. That was actually his name. Clark had the body of a guy who never stepped foot into a gym, yet something told me he knew how to please a woman…by giving a great foot massage.

What did you think I meant?  Pervert. What did I tell you about our deal?  Okay. I totally slacked on my end of the bargain too. I’m still eating Sun Chips.  Who wouldn’t be?

Clark was awkward and seemed to physically be in pain when he talked to us. Based upon the smells emanating from him, I suspect he had a mean case of diarrhea.   Poor Clark.   We tried a few beds and decided to leave poor Clark to the sweet sanctity of the restroom, where he would probably read the Play Station manual and wonder what boobs feel like. (I’m referring to female boobs. It was clear Clark knew what men’s boobs feel like, as he appeared to be rocking an A-cup.)

unmade bedAt the next store we met was Sal. Seriously. That was his name. I wish I was making this up. When we arrived, Sal had his shirt untucked, his tie loosened and the smell of cheap whiskey on his breath.  Seriously.  This happened.

Sal clearly had a rough night and was still feeling the side effects of it at 6:00 p.m. the next evening.  The funniest part was that once he saw us, he tucked in his shirt and attempted to button his top button.  I encouraged him not to, as there was no point.  He shattered our illusions of what a mattress salesman could be.  After all, Clark set the bar high.

He took us from bed to bed, talking in cliches and telling us he was letting us in on industry secrets and he was willing to give us a special deal.  He told us he would give us his friends and family discount as long as we didn’t tell anyone.

Yeah, like I believe this guy is willing to risk his job and the five child support liens he’s behind on just so he can give us a deal.  Right….

We went from mattress to mattress trying to decide which one was just right.  Some were too soft, some were too hard, and one had a bear in the bed, which was just awkward for everyone.

Ultimately, I think we settled on a mattress that was in the price range of what we wanted to spend (after Sal’s sweet discount).

Of course, we didn’t stop there.  Nope.  We felt like throwing a little more money Sal’s way.  After all, those garnished wages for his illegitimate kids weren’t going to pay themselves.

So we decided to do something amazingly awesome.  We decided to buy an adjustable base to the bed.  Yes, that’s right.  We decided to jump to the end of our lifetime and purchase a bed that allows us to move it to a sitting position without doing anything more than pushing a button.  We’ve come to a whole new stage of lazy.  A bed that allows you to sit up without effort.  It’s amazing.

What was that Sal?  It’s ridiculously expensive and if we knew anything about hydraulics or mechanical engineering, we could make this base ourselves for $19.99?  Well that’s okay.  We’d prefer to pay the equivalent of a mortgage payment instead…after all…you’ve got kids to feed (or at least the state does).

nightBecause we didn’t want to appear too eager, we said we would sleep on it (pun intended).  We left the store and went home and did some Internet research on the mattress and the adjustable base. (I admit it…I was looking for a coupon.)  Sal actually wasn’t feeding us a line…he really was giving us a deal.

Considering we made him throw in free Memory foam pillows and a free bed frame for our guest bedroom, Sal might not have been sober enough to do the math and realize the deal he was offering.  We didn’t want to lose it.

So first thing this morning, we returned to Sal’s place of business and bought the mattress and base, dropping far more money than I care to disclose.  But it’s totally worth it, right?  It will be delivered tomorrow and we can’t wait.  So just know that from here on out, I will be writing blog posts from the comfort of my new mattress and adjustable base.

I predict I will also be sipping Ovaltine and my orthopedic shoes will be right by the night stand, in case I have to walk anywhere.  Sweet dreams!

girl in jammies yawning

WARNING!

***If you have young children who wake you up early in the morning, you may want to reconsider reading this post.***

My husband likes to sleep.  No.  Strike that.  He loves to sleep.  It’s his favorite thing to do in the world (aside from mocking my British accent.  Bugga!).  He takes his sleep very seriously, and treats it like a job.  Any employer would be lucky to have such a dedicated employee so willing to do the job regardless of scenario.

Nice sunny day?  He’d prefer to nap.  Cinco de Mayo?  Um, not if there’s a comfy bed where he could take a siesta.  If sleeping were an Olympic event, he’d be the Michael Phelps of it (only without the jacked up teeth and the pot smoking).

So when Matt says he wants to sleep in, I know he’s serious.  Friday night he told me he wanted to sleep in on Saturday and he wasn’t going to set an alarm.  This was a change from his normal routine of getting up early on Saturday morning to hit the gym.  He’s such an obnoxious over achiever.

Naturally, I had no objection to him skipping the gym, as his frequent appearances at the gym make me feel bad about my lack of commitment to working out.  Not bad enough to make me go to workout, but still….

Since I’m an amazing wife who supports her man, I agreed to sleep in on Saturday and see where the morning took us.  It took us to sleep, which was fine with me.  We woke up about 9:30 a.m. to the sound of rain hitting our window.

blurry with umbrellasIt was a dreary day and we found ourselves with a lack of motivation to do much, so we flipped on the TV to see what was playing.

He immediately rejected my suggestion for “Gossip Girl” or “America’s Next Top Model.”  He said he wanted to watch something that didn’t make him dumber.  Since his recent purchase of text books as recreational reading, he’s become quite the brainiac.  We agreed on The Big Bang Theory.

It filled his requirement that the show be somewhat intelligent, and it filled my requirement to watch a show where I feel superior to the female lead.  (This is why I’m such a fan of America’s Next Top Model.  I’m confident I have more intelligence in my left breast than Tyra does in her whole head…although that girl sure can “smize.”)

We watched a couple episodes on our DVR, turning up the volume regularly to overshadow our grumbling stomachs.  We agreed it was time to get breakfast.  So around 10:30 a.m. we headed out the door to grab something to eat.

I was feeling especially motivated, so I put on a bra, although I didn’t bother to run a brush through my hair.  I wasn’t that motivated…

We headed to our favorite breakfast spot.  It’s a nice little establishment on the corner down the street where the locals regularly stop in for a quick bite to eat and a restroom break.  The staff is friendly and the floor is always clean.  The Quick Trip.

Their donuts are amazing.  Since we wanted to have a lazy day and needed to tire out our dogs to accomplish this task, we took all three of them in the car with us to the store.  We knew we couldn’t walk them in the rain, so we figured the next best thing was throwing them in the back of Matt’s Saturn for a spin around the block.

Matt stayed in the car with our canine friends and I headed inside to grab some donuts.  When I walked over to the bakery section (situated strategically next to the Pepto Bismol and the magazine rack), I noticed the selection was quite slim.

Just to clarify, the selection of donuts was quite slim.  The selection of magazines with half naked women on them was all stocked up.  QT needed to adjust its priorities.

I walked out of the store disappointed, and headed to the car.  I told Matt about the lack of supply and he immediately recommended we forge ahead in our quest for fried goodness.  I’d never loved him more.

donutsWe found ourselves at Dunkin’ Donuts and I went inside to avoid the long line in the drive thru.  After waiting behind an extremely hoosier family who seemed overly excited about purchasing donuts called “Munchins,” I placed my order, grabbed the fatty treats, and headed back to the car.

We arrived home and headed straight to the bedroom to eat our breakfast in bed while being entertained by the nerds on Big Bang.  We scarfed down our food and settled back to watch another episode.

By this time it was around 11:15 and our bellies were full and our eyelids heavy.  We agreed we needed to do what anyone else would have done in our situation.  We turned off the TV and took a nap.

We awoke at 1:30, fully refreshed and ready to take on the day.  Since we ingested about a million calories in a 90 second time frame and followed it up with a 2 hour power nap, we figured we should hit up the gym, at least for a bit.  After a sub par workout, we grabbed some lunch and headed back home.

I was exhausted and figured the best way to handle my exhaustion was to get a manicure and pedicure.

After all, I needed to relax.  I headed to the salon, thinking about what colors of polish I would choose, and what rude comments the workers would make about my chipped nails.

I also thought about what I would do after my pampering and realized there was only one logical thing to do afterwards; go tanning so I could take a nap.

To be continued…

storm.jpg

I live in the Midwest, which means I know a significant amount about the corn crop for the year, but nothing about fashion. I think flip flops look good with nearly every outfit.

It also means I can go from running the air conditioner one day due to a massive heat wave in January, to lighting candles and running the heater the next day to keep from freezing to death. The joys of the Midwest are plentiful, and the horrid smell is just an added bonus.

There’s a reason they call it “the armpit of the United States,” and it isn’t because the people here are nicely shaved and covered in deodorant…or at least not those I’ve encountered at the local Walmart.

One of the worst things about the Midwest (aside from the redneck jokes) is the nearly constant threat of tornadoes. With the changing temperatures, tornado warnings and sirens are just a part of life here in the armpit (or “pit” for short).

Although I don’t live in Kansas, nor do I have an Auntie Em.  However, I do have an Aunt Sylvia who is addicted to nose spray.

tornadoUnfortunately, my home in St. Louis has its fair share of tornadoes and dangerous weather.  The other night was no exception.

I was up late working (because I’m a super dedicated employee…and because I was behind on Facebook updates), and noticed a loud storm with thunder and lightning.

Although it’s strange for January, I somewhat enjoyed the boisterous weather, as it allowed me to fart loudly and blame the noise on the storm. Yet another reason I love mother nature.

My husband was sound asleep and unaffected by the noise (and the smell), but I continued to notice the storm sounded worse.

The fact that I had sauerkraut for dinner didn’t do anyone any favors either.

I went to bed around 1:30 and awoke about 2:00 to the tornado sirens going off. For those of you not familiar with tornado sirens, they are loud and obnoxious, and a great way to induce an anxiety attack.

They’re similar to Kathy Griffin, or Kathy Lee Gifford in that sense.  However, tornadoes don’t have the alcohol problem or obnoxious laughs the Kathys do.

I woke up my sleeping husband and told him we had to go to the basement because there was a tornado.  He ignored me and continued snoring, so I did what I always do when his snoring annoys me, I pinched his nose.

He awoke gasping for air, and then I gently told him we had to go downstairs because there was a tornado spotting.  And by “gently” I mean I told him to get his ass out of bed or I would cut him.

He stumbled out of bed and leisurely walked to the steps to the basement, as if we had all the time in world.  I told him to get a move on and get the dogs. As he did that I grabbed a bra and some pants, as both were noticeably missing from my outfit at that moment.

Don’t judge.  I was tired and those under wires can be a real bitch.

Of course, I didn’t put on the uncomfortable items, I just took them with me to the basement just in case disaster struck and I needed pants.

I went downstairs to find my husband standing there doing nothing. I suspected the tornado sirens would go on for a while and the tornado watch would last a few hours.  Since sleep was something I was quite lacking, I didn’t want to sit around for a few hours while mother nature played hide and seek with funnel cloud.

I told him to get out the inflatable mattress so we could sleep in the basement.

laternI’d like to tell you we bought that inflatable mattress because we are outdoorsy people and like to camp.  I’d love to tell you that we bought the inflatable mattress because we have lots of company in from out of town and they need a place to sleep.

Both of those statements would be lies.

The truth is, we bought an inflatable mattress because we are lazy people who love to lay in front of our electric fireplace in the basement and watch reruns of Rescue Me, and we don’t want to lay on our couch, as it just isn’t comfortable enough.

It also doesn’t scream “hoosier” quite as loudly as an inflatable mattress atop a shag rug atop carpet in a basement.

So I got out the inflatable mattress and plugged it in.  I think we all know I would have been incapable of blowing up the mattress had it not been electric.  Although my father claims I’m all hot air, my lung capacity is quite lacking, as is my tolerance for other people’s children.

This air mattress was a new one, and we never used it before.  The previous one met its demise in an unfortunate marital incident.

I wasn’t sure how big the mattress would be, although the box said it was queen sized.  As I watched it inflate, one thing was clear; this mattress wasn’t queen sized.  It didn’t even look like it was a full sized mattress.

The tornado sirens blared and our dogs ran around the basement celebrating the impromptu party in the basement.  I realized I didn’t care what size the mattress was.  It would do, as I didn’t want to wait out the storm on the floor.

I threw some sheets and a duvet on the mattress and decided it would have to do.

We got onto the bed, which was similar to mounting a horse.  We had to maneuver around and make sure one of us didn’t catapult the other across the room with a sudden movement.  Once we were situated, the dogs ran around the basement one last time for a victory lap before pouncing on the inflatable mattress for sleep.

inflatable mattress

Please note the inflatable mattress is the size of our love seat…tiny.

Then I realized we could be downstairs for hours, and we didn’t have food in the basement (aside from my hidden stash of Oreos, but there was no way I was going to reveal that location to my husband.  There have to be some secrets in a marriage, and the location of Double Stuff is one of them).

I ran upstairs and grabbed some Cliff Bars, water, and the newest volume of Us Weekly.  If I was going to be involved in a natural disaster, I at least wanted to be up to date on celebrity gossip.

I came back downstairs to find my husband staring at the tiny mattress, puzzled by its size.  He commented on how small it was and I reminded him that size didn’t matter, except when it came to diamonds and vodka drinks.

Matt and I laid there on the tiny mattress and began laughing like school girls.  Not giggling or chuckling, but belly laughing.  And yes, my belly is larger than his so my laugh was larger too.

laughWe were two grown adults sleeping on an inflatable mattress in our basement in the middle of the work week.  What was wrong with us?

As our laughter tapered off, we noticed the house was silent…we went upstairs and the sirens had stopped.  The tornado was gone.

We wasted no time.  I grabbed our pillows (and the Cliff Bar) and we headed to the bedroom to return to slumber.  The dogs followed suit and soon we were asleep in our bed, the threat of danger far away.

That mattress remains inflated in our basement.

Not necessarily because we are hoping for another tornado, but because although it isn’t comfortable enough to sleep on during a natural disaster, it’s not bad for watching episodes of Dexter.

front doorIt seems as if most people fall into a category of being a morning person or a night person.  I fall into the latter category.  As a requirement of being a night person, I despise all morning people.

As a night person, I find I’m more alert later in the evening and I do my best thinking then.  After all, it was at 11:30 p.m. when I came up with the brilliant idea of a business suit made out of velvet.

Trust me.  It will be big, and sooo comfortable.

So last night at 10:53 p.m. when our doorbell rang, I was awake and so was my husband.  I would love to tell you that we were awake doing something extremely sophisticated, like discussing works of art or the fate of our economy, mostly because it sounds a lot better than what we were really discussing, which was what determines how long the smell of a fart lingers.

As we tried to wrap our minds around this puzzling mystery, we heard the ring of our doorbell.

We looked at each other with a quizzical look as we both thought to ourselves “Our doorbell works?!”

In the three years we have lived in this house, we always thought the doorbell was broken.  As the loud ring filled our house, we were filled with excitement at the realization that we had a working doorbell.  We were movin’ on up…just like the Jeffersons.

pajamas.jpgAfter doing a celebratory dance, we realized that the doorbell was rang by someone, and he or she was probably still on our doorstep.  But who would come to our house at 11:00 at night?

Naturally, I convinced myself it was a burglar who was trying to catch us off guard and raid the house when we opened the door.

I looked around for a weapon to use against the insurgents.  There were probably more than one of them.  The only thing I could find was the back scratcher I purchased for my husband at the dollar store.

It’s made of bamboo and is very lightweight, and the fingers are practically worn down to nubs with the way he uses that thing.

I know it’s a little creepy, but if it keeps me from expending the energy to scratch his back, then I’m all about it.

Armed with a flimsy back scratcher, my husband and I headed to the door for what was sure to be an assault of some sort.

As we stumbled to the front door together, I contemplated the outfit I was wearing, which was most likely going to be the clothes I was brutally murdered in.

I didn’t want my mutilated body to be discovered wearing pajama pants with penguins on them and an Iowa Hawkeyes t-shirt.

welcome matFor one thing, we all know penguins and hawks don’t get along, and the two animals are incapable of living in harmony together.  I was really pressing my luck pairing them together with my wardrobe but hey, I’m a risk taker.

But now, my lazy attitude towards the pairing of birds would be forever memorialized in crime scene photos that would inevitably end up on “48 Hour Mystery.”

And what photos would they show to viewers?  I hoped it was my junior year’s pom pon picture.  I looked hot in that one.

I realized that I should have been more thoughtful about my nighttime attire.  I also realized I should have eaten the frosted cookies I resisted earlier in the evening.  I didn’t want my last meal to be some stale carrots.

We reached the door together.  Our house really isn’t that big…I just thought all of those things in a very quick time frame, and my husband opened the door a crack.  This was it:  It was over.

light switch onMy last moments in life were upon me.  My life flashed before my eyes in a series of moments; Thanksgiving with the family, chocolate Easter bunnies, backyard BBQs, Christmas breakfasts.

Then I realized that all my memories involved food and was thankful I wouldn’t live another day to deal with that crazy obsession and what that meant about myself.

I flipped on the light to the front porch and the figure standing there was illuminated.  I peered through the peephole and saw the teenager from down the street.  Matt opened the door a crack, peered out, and asked him if he needed something.

Clearly this kid was here to rob us blind and use the spoils of his crime to purchase video games and crack.  Duh.

Hi” said the teenager in an unassuming voice (most likely masked by the hard drugs he was surely on).  “Have you seen a black cat around here anywhere?”

So that was his angle.  His way to get in:  alleging he was looking for a black cat.  Smooth.  Well played.

black+cat.jpgNo, we have never seen a black cat around here before,” my husband answered in his best “I’m a big strong man” voice.

Are you sure you aren’t looking for a fat orange cat?” my husband inquired.

As if this kid was really looking for a black cat.  Sheesh.  My husband was falling for this hoodlum’s bait.  Not this girl.

No, it is a black cat.  We haven’t seen him in a few days and we were wondering if you had seen him” the delinquent said.

Wait a minute…”we?”  He was the only person standing there, so who else was he talking about?

Clearly he had some friends hiding nearby who would assist him in looting our home.  Didn’t I tell you there would be several insurgents?

“I will keep an eye out for the black cat and let you know if I see anything” I told the boy, knowing full well there was no such black cat.  He thanked us for our time and left our front porch.

screen doorWe locked the door and returned to our riveting conversation about the pungency of gas, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had just been “scoped out” for a burglary.  (I watch lots of “Law and Order” so I know how these things work.)

I told Matt I was concerned this kid was just trying to get a feel for us so he could rob us later.  Matt didn’t share my same view of the obvious drug addict.

We went to sleep and awoke the next morning unharmed, our house in tact.  Okay, so maybe he was waiting for the next night to strike.  That was fine with me…I knew I would be ready.

This evening I came home from work and got into bed, as I didn’t feel well.  Matt went out to a movie and almost immediately after he left the house, he called me.

I answered my cell phone, irritated with him, as I was sure he forgot something crucial, like his wallet.  Instead he said “I just saw a black cat wandering around the front yard of the house on the corner.”

What?!  Could that hoodlum who came to our doorstep last night looking for a black cat have actually been looking for a black cat?  Surely not.  But alas, my husband found the elusive black cat.

Was it a coincidence?  I’m not sure.  But rest assured that tonight, I will be sleeping with that bamboo back scratcher right by my side.