I simply remember my favorite things....and then I don't get....in trouble.
“YESSSS!!!! In Living Color is out on DVD!!!”
“We’re not getting that.”
“Huh? Why not it’s only twenty bucks?”
“Because if we get that you’ll want to watch it and then I’ll have to watch it and I don’t want to watch it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Deal with it.”
“Oh you are not getting a copy of the Sound of Music.”
“It’s the 40th Anniversary Special Edition.”
“I don’t care if it comes with the Von Trapp family singers. If I don’t get In Living Color you don’t get the Sound of Music.”
“I’m getting the Sound of Music.”
“Then I’m getting the special edition of Office Space and In Living Color.”
“That’s ridiculous you just said you wanted In Living Color, not “two” things.”
“The Sound of Music counts as two things it’s like seven hours long.”
“Then I’m getting T “L” Word.”
“The “L” Word? Let me see that. YOU’RE NOT EVEN A LESBIAN!!!”
“Stop shouting people will hear you.”
“I don’t care who hears me we are not getting The “L” Word. What if my friends see that in our apartment?”
“Your sick friends love lesbians.”
“Don’t start on my friends.”
I missed the rest of their conversation but it was obvious to me, as a grizzled married veteran, that the honeymoon phase of this relationship was over.
I figure they’d been married for about a month.
That’s because everything is faster now.
The honeymoon phase originally lasted about two years. Then like a toddler you hit the “terrible twos” because everything out of your wife’s mouth starts out with the word, “Why”.
“Why is the sky blue?”
“Why is water wet?”
“Why are you going out with Sean and Rich when you could be home watching the Sound of Music with me?”
Then Monday Night Football was invented and the honeymoon phase dropped to just under eight months, or until the next season started.
It dropped briefly to six months with the introduction of NFL Cheerleaders but went back to eight months when the television networks and the NFL ruined football by introducing female sideline reporters.
If we wanted to listen to women during a football game we’d be 49er fans.
There’s nothing to watch there.
I have nothing against female reporters, I just get this terrible feeling when they’re talking that they’re going to ask me to hang a painting, take out the trash or pay attention to them right in the middle of the game.
Today technology has caused the honeymoon phase to last about 30 days. I blame it on the cell phone. She can find you anywhere. Now they’re including global positioning systems in phones.
Why? How many times do you look at your phone and go, “Where am I? I need to call my wife.”
If you have to ask that question you’re probably regaining consciousness in a Tijuana strip club so you’re pretty much a dead man anyway. Unless of course you take the stripper home with you and introduce her to your wife as her new maid.
The day is coming when as soon as the ceremony is over the bride will turn to the groom and say, “You probably hate The Sound of Music. You are not the man I married.”
Which is why I have a photo of Julie Andrews in my wallet.
To remind me of what I need to like.
Which is kind of weird since she’s dressed like a nun.
‘THE HILLLLLSSSS ARE ALLLLIIIIIIVE WITH THE SOU…. Ouch!!! Hey!!! Why can’t I sing Sound of Music songs?”
“Commander in Chief is on.”
“Oh yeah... I forgot. I like that.”