Him: Speak, woman.
Me: (Not taking the bait) What's the deal on you coming home tonight?
Him: Well, I'd like to come home and find the kids on the driveway holding crossed swords above their heads for me to walk under. Oh, and the dogs should be standing out there on their hind legs in a gesture of welcome.
Me: That's very imaginative...
Him: Yeah, and you should be there too, wearing holsters with a cold beers in them.
AFTER A SHORT PAUSE HE ADDED...
and you should also have a bowl on your head and it should be full of buffalo wings.
Good thing I'm not a huge feminist, huh?
In his diary, Munch described his inspiration for these works:
"I was walking along a path with two friends—the sun was setting—suddenly the sky turned blood red—I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence—there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city—my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety—and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature."
Of course you don't have to love art to relate to this picture. If your job is sucking the life out of you and you're strongly considering running over your laptop with your car, dropping your cell phone in the toilet and faking your own death, you can probably appreciate this just fine.
In any case, Bruno just joined our family in January, and he's a retired racing greyhound. For those of you who've never met a greyhound in person, they are really unique and terrific pets. Here's a little video clip of pre-retirement Bruno winning a race at the Palm Beach Kennel Club. Watch for #5, that's my boy!
- He's a degreed Interior Designer...
- He loves to shop for clothing and decor items...
- and he's been known to wear a silk shirt to a barbecue.
It's this love of beer (fancy, exotic beer, I might add) that has given birth to the titular Girliest Idea My Husband Has Ever Had, presented here in dialogue for full dramatic effect.
Him: "I think I'm going to start collecting beer labels."
Me (skeptically): "What are you going to do with a bunch of beer labels?"
Him (defensively): "I'm going to mount them in a book with acid free paper and make notes about each one. What I liked, what I didn't like..."
Me (interrupting rudely): "You know what that is, right?"
Him (bracing for it): "No, what is it?"
Me (triumphantly): "That's a lame attempt at heterosexual scrapbooking!"
(END SCENE. FADE TO BLACK.)
Not that it really matters what we call it, but semantics are important to Garrett. When the boys were small and someone gave them any sort of stuffed animal or doll, he always called them action figures.
In the interest of marital bliss, I'll try to restrain myself from calling it scrapbooking...but you and I know better, don't we?