Recommended sip for today’s entry: It’s a beer night. I’m gonna recommend a Newcastle Brown Ale, one of my beloved spouse’s favorite beers. Since he is the focus of the blog today, let’s suggest this English Brown Ale that pairs well with earthy and nutty cheeses, meats, and … (his personal pairing) potato chips.
OK, on this the occasion of my 28th anniversary, I promised to let you in on our secret to a happy marriage. Hmm. I may have over-promised. I’m not really sure why it works. A lot of days it doesn’t seem to be working at all. But more often than not, it does. I guess my advice is: Have Low Expectations.
I’m just kidding. My advice for a long and happy marriage is to laugh.
Those of you who know Jeff may know that he is funny. Mean funny, but funny all the same.
And this year, as you know, we’ve been through a lot of changes. We’ve become empty nesters — at least most of the time — and my husband’s company is leaving the city, so things haven’t exactly been stellar at the office. Anyway, we’ve spent a whole lot of nights, just the two of us, watching TV. And if you thought that the show S@#T My Dad Says was funny, you’ll love Crap Jeff Says.
Before you read this, you must pinkie swear that you know he is ALWAYS kidding. After the first few remarks, I began to log them in the memo file on my phone, which just prodded him to produce more.
His thoughts on the state of our union and my special allure:
If I wasn’t forced to be with you for financial reasons, I wouldn’t be.
You’re still reasonably good looking. For your age, I mean.
I’m not disappointed with the predicament I find myself in.
I really need something to do at work so that I can stomach sitting her with you at night.
She’s a hag, but you look every bit as good as she does.
Low light suits you.
His (really tempting) come-on lines:
Oh come on, I think you’re beautiful. But you don’t give me anything.
I even said you smelled good. You’d think that would get me a tongue kiss or something.
Why don’t you look at me more? I am totally smoking hot.
And then, when he FINALLY noticed, after four months, that I was writing his comments down:
Why are you writing that shit down? You’re not Taylor Swift. You could be her grandma.
A discussion about my idol, Claire on Modern Family:
Him: I don’t think she’s all that pretty.
Me: I want to be her.
Him: You ARE her.
When I criticized C.C. Sabathia, the uh…chunky… pitcher for the Yankees:
Huh. How many Major League wins do YOU have, Flabby?
On the fact that I didn’t breastfeed our children:
They’re all screwed up because you didn’t let them drink your cow milk.
And finally, when I said that if he didn’t treat me with more respect, I’d leave him for someone better:
If I cut your Achilles tendon, you wouldn’t be able to run.
Well, in light of all that, I’m thinking you all either think a) he’s really funny or b) I’m a saint. A hag of a saint, but a saint. Anyway, I’m stupid enough to think it’s funny. I’ll keep you all apprised…I’m sure that as he ages and the filters (uh, not sure they ever existed) wear down, the Crap Jeff Says will only get better!!
And finally, a tribute to Horrendous Bridesmaids Garments of the 1980s: