I don’t usually go out of my way to watch Christmas movies or specials.
Except one.
I wasn’t watching “Sunday Night Football,” but the rest of my Sunday night would have been set regardless.
I don’t usually go out of my way to watch Christmas movies or specials.
Except one.
I wasn’t watching “Sunday Night Football,” but the rest of my Sunday night would have been set regardless.
The other night, I got an out-of-the-blue text from my buddy Mix inviting my wife and I over New Year’s Day.
Absolutely … it’ll be a great time. We’ll eat lots of food, watch hockey, crack jokes, make our wives cringe with how silly we can be.
And before I leave my house, I’ll do what I always do when going to Mix’s.
I’ll plug his address into the GPS on my phone.
I do most of my Christmas shopping at the Mall of My iPad — open 24 hours, no traffic, no lines, no parking, no other people.
However, my mother-in-law likes to go with my wife the day after Thanksgiving, so my father-in-law and I joined in for the trip to the shopping plaza near their home in Connecticut.
They went off and did their thing; I hung out at the bookstore, mostly adding to my own list.
This is Whisper.
She’s my parents’ cat.
She hates my wife’s and my guts.
Continue reading “When she even can’t be bothered to hate you”
I was going in and out of my nightly couch dozing when my wife said the magic words — “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “trombones.”
I think the last time I woke up so quickly was the one time she programmed “I Will Wait” by Mumford & Sons as the music for our alarm.
Note that I said “one time.” It turns out that 6 a.m. and high-speed banjos don’t mix very well.
“I like turkey, and I like ice cream, but I wouldn’t eat them together” was my reply to a coworker who said that under one certain circumstance, she might eat a turkey with flaming-hot Cheetos.
After all, she likes them both.
“You wouldn’t eat turkey with … chicken Parmesan …”
At this point, there was a weird energy in the room — the simultaneous thought among those seated nearby, “You know, that’s probably not the worst idea Bill has ever had.”
As I was tooling around Twitter the other day, I saw a post from Keeping it Karen where she shared her unpopular opinions.
There were 11 of them, and while I couldn’t get behind all of them — “Love Actually” is a great movie (and I hope to write about it before Christmas), and summer is much better than winter — there was one I agreed with wholeheartedly.
Coffee is overrated.
The closest I’ve come to getting into an altercation at the gym was a couple months ago.
It was with one of those guys who thinks multiple machines in a public gym are reserved for his use, even if he’s not using one or, in this case, wandering about the gym between sets.
When I got on a machine he had been using, I could see him hovering nearby, and when he asked when I’d be done, I told him soon, but that the machine didn’t belong to him if he wasn’t using it.
He snapped back that he knew that (I call bull—t on that one); I replied somehow, and that was pretty much the end of it.
My wife noticed this one this morning, because for some people, everything is a sales opportunity.
Don’t get any ideas; if this shows up under the tree at Christmas, you’re going to find out how soft it is when I bounce it off your head.
We’re getting a snowstorm tonight and into tomorrow morning.
It’s apparently already causing problems on its way to Massachusetts.
Awesome.