Life is settling somewhat and I’m almost out of my funk so if I owe you an email or something, I’m almost there. I’m planning to break out completely today by plugging Miracle into the DVD player. If you can remain in a funk after hearing Al Michaels yell “Do you believe in miracles? YES!”, I think your state of mind requires a non-prescription drug only available from small third-world countries and shipped by ingested condom.
So anyway, while my primary Christmas present was ordered online and not a surprise to me, the husband always takes the kids out to shop for me, so I had to come up with something else I wanted. A Juicy Orange-scented Yankee Candle wasn’t enough, so I’ve added a new set of steak knives to the list. The look he gave me reminded me of a blog entry I did last year after asking for a vacuum. Considering snowmobile season is upon us, all you have to do is substitute “set of steak knives” for “vacuum” and it’s practically an instant replay.
I’ve been married 14 1/2 years, (umm…I think. Yeah. Whatever—a long time) and I’m pretty familiar with the facial expressions of my particular specimen of the male species. For instance, Saturday night we were in a restaurant. The staring over my shoulder with a hint of a naughty smile told me he was considering one of two things. 1) Playing hooky from work to go snowmobiling or 2) taking the waitress into the back room for a quickie. My money was on option 1. The next words out of his mouth: I hear there’s snow in Twin Mountain.
Based on my keen ability for spousal translation, to follow is my transcript of my husband’s inner dialogue upon learning I want a new vacuum for Christmas:
Oh shit. A vacuum? Every guy knows you never, ever buy a woman a household appliance as a gift, especially one for cleaning. This is a test. Why the hell did I marry this bitch? I should have listened to my mother. But, shit, what if she really wants a new vacuum? I see her kick the vacuum sometimes, but it still works. She’s probably just pissed she has to vacuum and she’s pretending it’s my head. So I tracked in sawdust. Big f’ing deal. This sucks. I need a blowjob so I can think. She has everything else. The laptop, one of those Alphathingies. That handheld thing so she can read books while I’m out working just so I can track sawdust in the house. She’s not into jewelry shit. Maybe she really wants a vacuum. Or maybe she really wants something else and she’s telling me a vacuum to test me because I’m just supposed to f’ing KNOW what she wants. Bitch! Speaking of suction…
All facial expressions aside, here are the words that actually came out of his mouth:
A vacuum? Huh. Hey, did I tell you there’s snow up in Twin Mountain? I might blow off work Wednesday and go riding.
I love men. And I really do want a new vacuum.
No, I’m not going to tell him that. He should KNOW.