This is too funny not to share. Last night, I had an event after work, so I didn’t get home until 9:30.
I walk into our bedroom, and my generally intelligent, sensitive, responsible, tie-wearing professional SO is sitting on our bed, with my dog, NAKED, reading a new Military History mag and eating McDonalds straight out of the bag.
All class, baybee!
I started laughing hysterically. He gave me that look that puppies give you when you’ve caught them diggin in the trash.
It really was a pretty cute scene.
See, THIS is why God hooked this man up with a good woman!
Your dog was naked and reading a new Military History mag and eating McDonalds straight out of the bag. You’re right that is hysterical.
What? Oh.
Nothing wrong with that. No need for napkins either, just wipe your greasy hands on your skin and the apparently-not-naked dog will take care of things. Wimmen just can’t appreciate the beauty of unadorned male logic sometimes.
Its stories like this that could make one wonder - how did they survive before they had SO’s living with them? My SO and I had friends over the other night and one said friend went into the kitchen and came out and said “Great job on the kitchen guys!” Now, my SO had NOTHING to do with the cleaning of the kitchen - which he quickly admitted - but funny how a clean kitchen can throw someone else off their game enough to mention it! HA!
I hear ya about the kitchen!
I like to cook alone (channeling George Thoroughgood) YYYEEEEAAAHHHHH-nobody else!
So generally my SO stays out of the kitchen, but he sweetly asked to clean it up the other night when I was really tired.
Next night I cannot find the Mrs. Dash or the pepper mill to save my life. They are not in their “places” in the spice cabinet. I am tearing up the kitchen, until he comes in, gives me that patient look, and says “Hon, they’re right here in the fridge.”
Of course!
Ah-yes-but who will complain to me at 11 pm when the “grains of salt from the french fries” are irritating his widdle skin?
:rolleyes: 
Can’t argue with you there. If he’s gonna be a slob and whine about it, I’m not going to try and defend that.
As far as the kitchen, it goes both ways. I’m the main food preparer in our household. My wife is vaguely aware that we have this room called a kitchen. Anyhow, every once in a while she’ll offer to clean up, and heaven help me if the next day I don’t have to ask “Honey, if you were going to put the vegetable peeler away, where do you think it belongs?”
Just curious…what kind of dog?
The dog is from the pound. She’s kind of like a golden retriever in temperament, but smaller, and with straighter hair.
Tarnation- I wish she WAS naked! Then this insane spring shedding thing (yet another reason I wasn’t so thrilled to find her up on the bed) wouldn’t be so bad!
You’re right, though, Why A Duck. After all, it’s not like there is a labelled area in every kitchen marked “peeling implements”,
“salt-free spices”, etc. I suppose one place is as good as the other, but it’s disconcerting to me to step into a parallel universe where pepper is kept in the fridge! I’ve said similar things to him too when I can’t find something and I suspect he moved it, e.g.
“Say you’re a can of lighter fluid. If you could live anywhere on this property, where would you choose?”
At home, naked on the couch (save for a pair of slippers), reclining with a bowl of Cheerios, and Sportscenter on the tube - This is the happy little place that bachelors like to go when the evils of the world get them down. And it’s the place that married guys would most like to vacation, except they can’t anymore because their wives will go “Ewww…that’s gross.”
My married co-worker once asked me whether I was going out for drinks after work. “Nope,” said I. “Home. Cheerios. Sportscenter.” The look on his face said it all - He hadn’t been to Cheerioland since the day he put the ring on his wife’s finger. And his sanity was suffering for it.
Poor guy.
Cheerios are fine and all, but for true bachelor escapist fantasies, it’s gotta be Cheetos. Then you get the added bonus of Cheeto dust matted in your chest hair, and the telltale orange streaks are a good indication of where you’ve been scratching.
Man, add a six pack of Old Milwaukee and I’m in heaven. I do get to indulge in this once in a while. Every so often my wife takes the kid to see family in NJ, I of course have to stay home to take care of the horses.
A few Cheetos, some beer, some rented movies of ill-repute. Nirvana.
I did Cheetos last week. Bad idea. You’re sitting there, wondering how to solve the problem of “Cheeto Fingers” when you’re completely naked and bachelor rules forbid the use of a napkin and it’s just not fun. Same goes for other messy foods like chicken wings and donuts with powdered sugar on them.
Best to stick to the basics.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, guys. I don’t mind when he does these types of things, and certainly plan on continuing not to mind after we go legit. The deal is, he can scratch, fart, spit, and talk with his mouth full to his heart’s content, in the privacy of our home, as long as he doesn’t mind tripping over 80 bottles of lotion in the bathroom and dealig with my cranky evil twin. I just thought it was a pretty funny scene!
So a lot of you guys have the naked eating thing? I never woulda known. I don’t think you’d find many women doing that.
It seems, I dunno, unsanitary somehow?
Tell me, what is the appeal?
Lounging around naked is a pleasure unto itself. I guess the female equivalent would be health spas.
Adding junk food just brings it to the next level. Multitasking shows you’re serious about your leisure time. It’s the same instinct that drives some guys to call their best buddy on the phone while receiving oral sex from their SO.
One wonders how long she remained his SO after that…
Okay, what’s bolded is the part that struck me odd. Do you get out a knife and fork for your Quarter Pounder or something?
:o
No, I guess you’re right- I don’t break out the fine china with my royale w/ cheese! I guess I just meant that he didn’t have a plate, towel, paper towel, newspaper, or anything else for that matter between the grease and our freshly washed sheets!
Then there is the more dignified married businessman version of a cheerios or Cheetos night. There you are, having spent anywhere from 4 to 24 hours in transit with maybe some outrageous time zone changes into a major international city somewhere you’ve never been before. Woohoo, a great opportunity to check into the hotel, strip down to your boxers (or naked) while throwing your shit every where in the room, order both the french fries and onion rings from room service plus about 10 beers (the company will of course cover room service but not the mini bar), get the shower going full blast on industrial high so that the entire room becomes a sauna, crank up the movie channel (unfortunately classy hotels at best have the Playboy channel and usually nothing at all racy), get your laptop going if you want to indulge in some self abuse, download emails so you can pretend to do some work, and then veg. I only get to do this a couple times a year, but it’s as good as it gets.