1. Scenes of my life aren't nearly as funny or dramatic without background music. Especially when the scene is being retold to someone who wasn't there.
2. In movies, husbands and wives go to bed at night and commence something I have decided must be a myth: they cuddle. My husband is under the impression that cuddling and groping are synonyms. I ask if he wants to cuddle, and all of a sudden I'm in the middle of an attack from all sides. A few nights ago there was a storm going on while we were falling asleep. I told him I was scared. To calm me he put his hand on my ass.
3. There aren't any monsters or faceless men under the bed OR in the closet. And I know for sure, because I make Nick check every night.
4. Brad Pitt and some hot actor get in a huge fight, resulting with someone slamming the door on their way out. Later that night, when the girl gets home from work or drinking the night away, Brad Pitt has bought her an entire new wardrobe. Without a job, nonetheless. When Nick and I get in a fight I'm lucky if he even remembers when I get home.
5. I will not age like Demi Moore. When I am 50 I will droop everywhere and the phrase 'putting on my face' won't just meaning putting on my make-up in the morning.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Love Ain't Cheap
Our honeymoon was exactly what we had in mind. The day after the wedding, we headed into Chicago to cheer on the cubs and fiesta at the block party.
After a few days there we headed to Florida, which we could only do because of the generosity of a good friend with a condo in Ft. Myers.
We were determined to spend our time in Chicago and Florida without (barely) any hold. We did something exciting every day, none of which were free. We were still careful while away not to spend too much. We always called around for the best prices, and ruled out the outrageous stuff.
My personal favorite was the morning we went on a jet ski dolphin tour. We were sitting on the beach waiting for the rest of the tour when our guide started a conversation with us. He was quite informational. He explained to us that the people swimming this early in the morning this time of year were idiots, (his word, not mine) because it is the time that sharks feed.
At this point I turn to my new husband, who was the designated driver, and told him, "You dump me from the jet ski and you'll be sleeping on the couch until I stop having nightmares."
But it gets better.
"They come to feed on the sting rays that hide under the sand," he explained to us.
This is where another guide felt the need to join in.
"I've been stung quite a few times," he told us. "Since they hide under the sand you can step on them and they snap up and sting you with their venom."
So let's get this straight.
It is the time if year that sharks come to this part of Florida. They feed close to the beach I'm sitting on because of the stingrays that hide under the sand of the shallow water.
That's all dandy while I'm sitting on the sand, but then they tell me it is my turn to wade to our jetski.
You may as well have called me Jesus, because I was walking on water the whole way out there.
Just in case you were worried, we survived the day incident free.
We've been back for about a month now, with the sweet memories and the photo album on the coffee table.
And then the credit card bill came in the mail.
Needless to stay, it took more than one cup of cold water to unfreeze Nick.
While we don't regret any penny of our honeymoon, we certainly will not be vacationing anytime soon again.
After a few days there we headed to Florida, which we could only do because of the generosity of a good friend with a condo in Ft. Myers.
We were determined to spend our time in Chicago and Florida without (barely) any hold. We did something exciting every day, none of which were free. We were still careful while away not to spend too much. We always called around for the best prices, and ruled out the outrageous stuff.
My personal favorite was the morning we went on a jet ski dolphin tour. We were sitting on the beach waiting for the rest of the tour when our guide started a conversation with us. He was quite informational. He explained to us that the people swimming this early in the morning this time of year were idiots, (his word, not mine) because it is the time that sharks feed.
At this point I turn to my new husband, who was the designated driver, and told him, "You dump me from the jet ski and you'll be sleeping on the couch until I stop having nightmares."
But it gets better.
"They come to feed on the sting rays that hide under the sand," he explained to us.
This is where another guide felt the need to join in.
"I've been stung quite a few times," he told us. "Since they hide under the sand you can step on them and they snap up and sting you with their venom."
So let's get this straight.
It is the time if year that sharks come to this part of Florida. They feed close to the beach I'm sitting on because of the stingrays that hide under the sand of the shallow water.
That's all dandy while I'm sitting on the sand, but then they tell me it is my turn to wade to our jetski.
You may as well have called me Jesus, because I was walking on water the whole way out there.
Just in case you were worried, we survived the day incident free.
We've been back for about a month now, with the sweet memories and the photo album on the coffee table.
And then the credit card bill came in the mail.
Needless to stay, it took more than one cup of cold water to unfreeze Nick.
While we don't regret any penny of our honeymoon, we certainly will not be vacationing anytime soon again.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
My Husband, the Stay-At-home Wife
My husband and I truly enjoy living in our new apartment. There is a certain snug feeling to driving home from work, and not to your parent's home. Even if it is a home with crooked floors. Seriously, the floors in our apartment is so off-balance the refrigerator leans.
Since my husband, Nick, is an elementary school teacher, he has spent the better part of the last few months on the couch. While I am working nearly forty hours a week as a waitress, Nick is mastering the gameplay of something called NBA 2K11. I fall asleep and wake up to the sound of a fake pair of announcers yelling fake gameplay as a fake crowd goes wild. But don't tell my husband I said that, because how dare I call something engineered so realistically fake?
As he plays, he somehow earns classic Jordans, as in the shoes. I'm still a little bit foggy on how he gets them, but I've seen the collection multiple times. This is due to the fact that he'll explain each of their special powers to whoever will stand still for more than a second.
And he says I'm obsessed with shoes?
It's so bad that when we are with friends you will hear him boastingly state things such as "Yeah, I finally made it to the finals, with a really tough win against the Pacers."
When Nick is not covering as the next Michael Jordan, he is being extremely helpful as a housewife. I have come home repeatedly to the once pile of crusty dishes not only scrubbed but put away correctly in the limited cupboard space we have.
If there is one chore he prefers above all others it is vacuuming. This is because of two main reasons.
A: The very first thing he registered for after he proposed was our Dyson Ball. It was his favorite gift. By far above all the pretty plates and vases. Since our apartment is mainly crooked wood floors, he uses every excuse he can to use it on the rug in our living room or the small carpet space surrounding our bed.
Reason B is that our extremely vocal and hyperactive beagle is terrified of it. After being terrorized by Rudy all day to play play feed play pet potty play feed...Nick looks forward to the revenge of chasing him around the apartment.
So while my life may not be quiet or peaceful, at least it is clean.
Since my husband, Nick, is an elementary school teacher, he has spent the better part of the last few months on the couch. While I am working nearly forty hours a week as a waitress, Nick is mastering the gameplay of something called NBA 2K11. I fall asleep and wake up to the sound of a fake pair of announcers yelling fake gameplay as a fake crowd goes wild. But don't tell my husband I said that, because how dare I call something engineered so realistically fake?
As he plays, he somehow earns classic Jordans, as in the shoes. I'm still a little bit foggy on how he gets them, but I've seen the collection multiple times. This is due to the fact that he'll explain each of their special powers to whoever will stand still for more than a second.
And he says I'm obsessed with shoes?
It's so bad that when we are with friends you will hear him boastingly state things such as "Yeah, I finally made it to the finals, with a really tough win against the Pacers."
When Nick is not covering as the next Michael Jordan, he is being extremely helpful as a housewife. I have come home repeatedly to the once pile of crusty dishes not only scrubbed but put away correctly in the limited cupboard space we have.
If there is one chore he prefers above all others it is vacuuming. This is because of two main reasons.
A: The very first thing he registered for after he proposed was our Dyson Ball. It was his favorite gift. By far above all the pretty plates and vases. Since our apartment is mainly crooked wood floors, he uses every excuse he can to use it on the rug in our living room or the small carpet space surrounding our bed.
Reason B is that our extremely vocal and hyperactive beagle is terrified of it. After being terrorized by Rudy all day to play play feed play pet potty play feed...Nick looks forward to the revenge of chasing him around the apartment.
So while my life may not be quiet or peaceful, at least it is clean.
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