Today I helped my wife make booklets for her Kindergarten students. I thought I was being extremely helpful, but as usual when my wife is forced to spend time with me in close quarters for more than thirty minutes, she got extremely aggravated with me.
First she started complaining that we didn't have enough glue, and blamed me for eating all of it. I tried to explain to her that we will have more glue after Barbaro is liquidized, but she didn't think that was in good taste. (Pun alert! Pow!)
Second, she thinks that I would have somehow magically colored between the lines better if I had worn pants. I take no blame for this one - she knew what she getting into when she married me.
Lastly, she complained that it was hard to focus with my armpit in her face. I told her I was just sharing my pheromones with her, but her skills with the Red Crayola marker made me relent. I bought this deoderant for you, Baby! I just thought we'd share it!
So I guess what I'm saying is, I'm sorry and I love you. Now can I please have my GameCube back?
The Existential Terror of Battle Royale
5 weeks ago