It’s grocery day. The SO and I go to the grocery store together. After arriving home and putting away all the food, I turn to him and say, “So, whaddya want for lunch?” He looks at me, a bit of a smirk on his face, and says, “I don’t know. What do we have?” Why are all my frying pans dirty when I really need them?
Where to begin, where to begin…
She never puts a new roll of toilet paper ON the roller.
She never does the dishes, I do them.
She blows her nose by this rather nauseating technique that involves vigorous inspection.
She talks too loudly.
She takes cheap shots at me in front of friends and family.
She punches me when I snore. ( Okay, this one is partially my fault, but is there an embroidered label somewhere on my ass that says “EverlasT” that I cannot SEE? )
She dominates every conversation ruthlessly.
She eats with her mouth open.
How’s them apples? :mad:
Cartooniverse
She still hasn’t given me any clue who she is, or that she even exists.
He lives too far away. 
Pout. I can’t wait until P. and I are close enough and settled enough that I can complain about his laundry habits or something. No fair.
(Note, not that I’m getting all y’all should be grateful that they’re around, blah blah blah, I just want to be able to complain too! 
)
Hm. I think I’d better wander over to that other thread about what your SO does that makes you happy or something. I’ll use less bandwidth there. :eek:
I’m sort of the one in charge of the meals, and every time I ask him what he wants for supper, he says “Food.” :rolleyes: Thanks for coming out.
Sliced up onion peels go in the garbage. The remainder of the onion goes, wrapped up in cellophane, or some other kind of container, in the refrigerator. Left out, they tend to make the entire house smell like a condemned Italian restaurant.
You know, that huge white appliance three feet directly behind you? Yes, that one.
Bread will turn concrete in consistency if not securely fastened with a twisty-tie. Leaving it open invites bugs and my wrath.
Toilet paper goes on a dispenser, not on the edge of the sink. Considering the dispenser is actually CLOSER than the edge of the sink, one can only surmise that you are clueless as to how the dispenser is refilled. Which you are not, as we both know. Nor are you physically unable to work said dispenser; I believe the key word here would be “lazy”.
Folded clothes go in drawers and closets, not on the floor at the foot of the bed. Things left on the floor are courteously placed in above-mentioned garbage and I doubt you’d enjoy having nothing to wear but a smile to work next week.
Empty beer cans are also intended for the garbage. They are not pretty ornaments for my kitchen counter, no matter how shiny they are.
Waking me up at three in the morning to discuss how funny a joke you and Gus shared is not even mildly humorous. I realize you have a different work schedule than I, and we don’t get to talk as much as we used to, but surely that knee-slapper can wait until Saturday. At three A.M., only fires and wailing children are allowed to awaken me. And then ONLY if wailing children are sick, and the house is REALLY on fire.
And in closing, I DO want to thank you for doing your share of the laundry. It only took twelve years for you to learn where the laundry room is, and I appreciate your trying. Of course, please refrain from putting my lingerie in with your work clothes, as grease and coal tar tend to disagree with most nylons and silks.
Other than these, you’re going to work out just FINE!
OK, just so’s you don’t think Astrogirl is too perfect (just nearly so):
-She WHINES when she doesn’t like my answer to something: “Oh, DAAAAAAaaaaaaaaannnnn!” Cute at first, but grates on the nerves after a half-hour or so…
-She likes to get drunk with her friends, call me up at unGodly hours of the night (2AM, 3AM, etc.) and talk for a long time! I HATE talking on the phone, as she well knows! I especially hate it if I’m trying to get some sleep and actually succeeding for once (I am an insomniac, so if I actually do manage to get to sleep, I’m not very happy if I am immediately awakened :mad: )! [sup]of course, If I am actually 100% asleep, either the phone won’t wake me, in which case I am greeted in the AM with a message on the machine “Oh DAAAAaaannn! Yoboseyo? Yoboseyo?? EEESSSsssshhhh! Click”, or I will answer the phone and sleep-talk, which I never remember.[/sup]
-um… ah! She loves tequila (as do I), but it makes her lose ALL inhibitions, and when she has had tequila I must spend the rest of the evening chasing after her to keep her out of trouble…
That’s about it!
He can be SUCH A STUPID SELFISH PRICK!
Sorry, bad timing.
Other than that I adore him. (Hell, I’m clueless enough to adore him with that.)
Yea, um, I’ll go now.
She insists on speaking to me everyday. She’ll call me ten minutes after i just dropped her off from dinner or something. Now I could be wrong, but didn’t we just spend the last 10 hours talking to each other? Go away!!!
He crunches ice.
After work he starts undressing at the back door and leaves a trail from there through four rooms before he’s naked and stepping into the shower. Now mind you, it’s not the naked part that is upsetting, it’s the trail through four rooms part.
He doesn’t dance.
He pretends I have a choice about where to have dinner. Him: Where would you like to have dinner? Me: The Aquarium or Bennihana’s! Him: No, how about Fuddrucker’s or Outback? Me: You choose. Him: No, you pick. Me: <sigh> Ok Fuddrucker’s or Outback. Him: Great! Fudd’s it is!
When I am reading he asks, “what are you doing?” :rolleyes:
His method of blowing his nose when outdoors, does not involve tissue, handkerchief or even a sleeve. <shudder>
Mrs. Tonk will go to the bathroom and take a piss, and afterwards realize that she failed to replace the toilet paper when she used it up.
It frustrates her to no end. What frustrates me is the fact that she’ll yell for me to come upstairs and bring her a new roll.
Mrs. Dragwyr has this habit of brushing her teeth before going to bed, but never putting the toothpaste or toothbrush back in the medicine cabinet when finished. It just ends up on the counter. It’s right in front of her and would only take 3 seconds to put them back. Now that I think of it, she does this with just about anything she uses. She never puts anything she uses back. I end up having to put it back. I expect my 4 year old to do this with his toys, but not my wife.