My Husband has a Secret Blog

Yeah yeah yeah... I realize how much of a hypocrite this makes me sound like, but I have reason to believe my husband, Clark, has a secret blog. About ME!

Just now, we were lying in bed and Mr. Clark had the gall to say something about "would you like it if I shared that on a blog?" and of course he got that guilty "I really do have a secret blog" face. Which tells me he MIGHT HAVE ONE! Then, when I pushed the issue he got an even more guilty face and insisted that he's a "terrible liar" and I "would know if [he] had a secret wife blog." But his sheer denial, and refusal to discuss the matter and/or prove me mistaken has me concerned.

Ladies. This ain't ok.

For Nancy (yours truly) to write about Clark, is one thing. Because I, Nancy, am always right. I win the Head of Household competitions all the time, am a kick-ass-fuckin-cook and am pretty good at Jeopardy. Clark, on the other hand..... nope.

Maybe I'm just fired up, but I think we have something to be worried about here. I fear there may be entires floating around out there about the time I drank too much wine and tried to seduce Clark who did NOT have as much wine. Or the time I threw a fit about not having any olive oil left and needing to use vegetable oil. Or the time I demanded we have children because I'm getting "old" (and was denied) asap.

I beg you to search the interwebs. If you find a husband blog written about his supposedly crazy wife, let me know.

Facebook is Down… We are Through!!

Be forewarned, there is an unnecessarily long text/bbm exchange below that was pared down some, but difficult to alter too much without losing how fricken insane I am/was. Whatever… I have no problem admitting my mental defects :)

Last week, the ever popular social networking site, Facebook, went crashing to the ground. Many profiles were temporarily disabled; Clark’s being one of them. However, before this happened there was a series of other events…

I noticed that our cat, Kip, had become friends with Kralc on Facebook (yeah yeah, the pets are on it). Kralc? That’s a weird name. Clicking on Kralc’s profile, I noticed his primary photo was a hand, looking like Clark’s, holding a cup of coffee… our cups! What?! Who was this Kralc who has broken into my house, kidnapped my cat, and taken a photo of his hand?! Who WAS HE?! Oh… Kralc. That’s Clark backwards! Wait, what? Being a nosey Nellie, I poked around a bit and came across Kralc’s news feed, which told me he had just become a high rolling member of FrontierVille, or something stupid like that. Um…….. really?

I Would Give my Gallbladder for a New Droid 2

For almost a year, Hans has been looking forward to Monday, September 13th and I have heard about it at least once a day.  He has been planning for Monday September 13th, living for Monday September 13th, dreaming  of Monday September 13th. 

Monday, September 13th - D-Day: the day our Verizon contract could be renewed and he could get a Droid, aka Droid-Day.

Unfortunately for Hans, Monday, September 13th also ended up being G-Day, the day that I had to have my gallbladder removed.  We were up at 5 am, at the hospital by 6, in the gown by 6:30 and significantly drugged by 7. 

Oral Hygiene: Part II (But Who's Counting?)

Last week I was furiously cleaning the house (er, tiny apartment) in preparation of some friends coming to visit. Hooray, friends! I was through with the main living areas and, after poking my head into the bedroom, decided it could wait since, after all, it's not exactly where you entertain guests (unless we're that kind of couple who has those kinds of friends... which we're not). Just before our friends arrived, Clark decided to brush his teeth and floss, which as you know: I'm a really big fan of. I watched him walk into the bedroom with his floss pick, and then returned, fully dressed in "guest clothing" without a floss pick. Hmm... a mystery, indeed.

Marriage Vows say NOTHING about slush puppies

On July 4th Hans and I decided to take Gigi to a parade.  We had recently had a great time at the Memorial Day parade that ran the same route: a marching band, some uncoordinated majorettes, girls scouts and old dudes in cars, easy parking and in and out in 45 minutes!  I stupidly assumed the July 4th parade would be the same. BIG MISTAKE- HUGE.

The Elephant in the Room

The following is a guest post by the author/wife of My Husband is Crazy! If you missed her introduction, make sure you check it out! This is a good one!!!

After a long day at work, I just want to come home and relax a little. I never know what will be waiting for me on the other side of my front door. My crazy husband buys things all the time and hides them until he thinks its safe to show it to me. It is not like he buys little things. He has gotten into this fixation with life sized things. Tonight I came home, walked out on my back patio and saw this…

In One Beer - Cheese the Other

Last night while making dinner for Hans and Gigi (after coming home from work of course) I asked Hans (who was milling around in the kitchen enjoying a cold beer beverage) if he would please go to the basement and get me the bag of mozzarella cheese in the freezer, as I needed it for his dinner that I was lovingly preparing -for him by the way, did I mention that part?

"Are you serious?" he asked.

Please Stop Breathing... On Me.

If there is anything I care about in this world, it is good oral hygiene. I am a tooth-brushing fanatic who loves to floss and swish mouthwash. If my teeth get ever so yellow I experience a melt down, drive to CVS, and proceed to whiten my teeth for the next 14 days until they are unnaturally white and possibly fluorescent. For some, these kinds of obsessions result from a traumatic tooth experience as a child, but for me, it's just a neuroses that I cannot shake. I think I have always been like this - at least I cannot remember NOT being like this. My dentist even goes so far as to tell me to brush my teeth less. Yes, it is that bad. I suppose it could be worse...

Puke Puddles

The other day, I came home to a small puke puddle/hair ball on the floor, which officially marked our cats first hairball - all grown up! By the time Clark got home, it was all cleaned up, however it reminded me of a time when puke puddles were a thing of uh... frustration.

Our dog, Sassy, was pretty sick last spring. OK, not "sick" so much as "suffering from severe anxiety." You see, Clark had just returned home from overseas and then we got the brilliant idea to adopt a cat. Considering Sassy had only limited contact with cats, and had never met Clark, this was a pretty top-notch-genius idea. The end result was a sick/panic stricken dog who couldn't be calmed by any means. We tried, but the more we tried, the worse it got so finally we just let her be and knew she would come around.

...But Can Your Computer Cook Dinner?

As you may recall from my meltdown about eating at the table, I never played video games or watched TV as a child. As an adult I have discovered TV and love it, but I absolutely get tired of sitting in front of it and more often than not when "my show" is over, the TV goes off and I go about my business - whatever that may be.

Clark is the opposite.

My dear husband could play video games until his eyes rotted out of his head, and then wold insist on installing special braille keyboards, joysticks, controllers and the like, so that he could continue demolishing the online world of aliens and communists. He has logged so many hours playing video games that I think he may actually have some stock options associated with Xbox, Best Buy and possibly EA Games. When his duty station was changing he left his $2,000 gaming computer behind "because it crashed" and bought a new $1,000 one overseas which he told me was a real bargain and might need some upgrades (which is did not, has not and will not). The former works perfectly and is now residing at my parents house; the latter sits on my ottoman when not in use.

Psha, Who Needs AC?

As you may recall from The Rabid Wife Reforms post, Clark and I got into a little spat over leaving lights on. Well this recently came up again in reference to our electric bills. Hold on, let's back up a little...

We are on a budget. A tight one. Things that we mutually agreed on (to save some cash) include: turning lights off, unplugging un-used cell phone chargers, turning AC temperature up to 76/78 when we weren't home so it wouldn't be blasting and would only kick in in dire situations/heat waves... you get the idea. Last week our AC died and we were flippin' miserable. The pets were waning and we were just sticky and gross. It was the first day of this disaster that Clark told me I was a rabid beast and stormed out, all because I asked him to turn the light off.

The Rabid Wife Reforms

Over the course of our relationship, Clark has seen me at every point of the spectrum. Relaxed, neurotic, sad, happy, insane, clinically depressed, mildly psychotic... He takes all of these emotions/mental states in stride and has learned to deal with me much as my mother has learned to deal with me (ignore, ignore, pacify, ignore, ignore). Well, over the past few days we had a series of events that led up to Clark leaving the apartment and me telling him to "never ever come back!" So you don't worry about it, let's just cut to the chase and tell you: it has a happy ending.

Reduce, Reuse, Re-Drive Me Crazy

I grew up poor. Not living in our station wagon poor (that is a serious matter, have you seen that commercial? double ugh)- but having hydrox instead of oreos, and never seeing a Q-tip until i got to college because they were an extravagance that didn't make it into the shopping cart.

Thus I grew up treating paper towels like gold. Towels that you use once and throw away? What a strange concept- then you need to buy more? Why not just use real towels and wash them when you are done? Like the pilgrims and the pioneers?

This is why my darling husband, Hans, and I have inherently different feelings about the proper use of a paper towel. I did not know about this or his intensely annoying paper towel habits until after we moved in together, and by that point it was too late, because i REALLY HATE MOVING- so i wasn't going to do it again.