The Bob, Tim and Marty Project

She uttered the words that every husband fears hearing-

“Honey, I need you to do something for me while I am at work.”

I replied with the words that every wife knows was a lie-

” I can’t. I’m going to be neck deep in stuff today.”

Naturally, the battle of wills continued,  where I was destined to lose.

“By neck deep in stuff,  I am sure you mean stuck on the sofa wrapped up in a blanket, listening to your horrid choices of what you call music. I know you aren’t working until all the drama is worked out….so don’t give me that crap about being too busy. The Christmas party at the group is Saturday and I am in charge of making the centerpieces for the tables. I’m working….you…are not, therefore, I delegate the responsibility to you.”

I look at her with my best I’m gonna tear onto you look.

Then don’t….because I am scared of her and she’s right.

But,

to prove to myself that I still have a backbone I reply anyway.

“For your information,  my choices in music are reserved for those with refined palettes of sound…that of which you and your kind do not possess. As far as centerpieces go…I am more of a Bob Vila, than a Marty Stewart.” I said as a pulled up the blanket.

“It’s Martha Stewart…and with your hospital bills, I would say you are more Tim Taylor than anything

…..I need 8 centerpieces. Go buy the stuff and make them.” She replied as she handed me cash.

“UGGH! You know I hate spending money, I’m cheap…what do I know about centerpieces?” I asked as I took the cash.

“I know you’re cheap….why do you think I am having you do it? The plus is…you are creative. All you need to know is that it is a casual Christmas party…Santa, snowmen…you know holiday theme.  You will do great. Thanks, honey you are the best!”

She kisses me and leaves for work.

Before the car drives away, I yell out to her-

“HAVE YOU GORGOTTEN THAT I HATE CHRISTMAS?”

I see her smile her wifey smile and drive on.

So…..

I’ve got cash and an objective.

The best place for a cheap bastard like me to go for holiday supplies is obviously Big Lots and Dollar stores.

I need to dress for the occasion.

Flannel shirt, pajama pants,  black socks,  sandals.

Yep…..that should do it. I mean…..I want to look like I belong there….I hate to stand out.

After 2 hours of painstaking aisle scavenging and idea formulation, I return home with the goods and create my first centerpiece-

After approval from the boss, I create 7 more-

Marty Stewart can suck it.

Oops, I mean Martha….

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The Celibate Toast

I need to invest in an online lip reading class because It has become quite obvious that I suck at being hearing impaired.

Case and point is as follows….

CASE

Whilst I was preparing the evenings gourmet meal I became embroiled in a quandary.

My wife has a list of various ingredients she does not partake in.

During the process of cheffing it up I often need her assistance in what to use.

This particular time, she happened to be on the phone with one of her friends yapping it up about make up, fashion, shoes or possibly NASCAR when I witnessed her looking into the fridge for something to add to my 5 star meal.

To speed the process up, I asked what she was looking for.

I swear on the bumper of Dale Earnhardt’s Jr. Daytona 500 car that she mouthed the words-

“Celibate toast.”

I paused…made my huh face

and said,

“What the hell is celibate toast?”

POINT

She makes her version of the huh face while she is on the phone

(multitasking is much more her thing than mine)

and pulled out a jar of what she was looking for.

I still don’t know what celibate toast is but I bet it comes with it’s own jam>