So, summary of my evening. I cooked dinner ( Chickan Divan with garlic mashed potatos), emptied the dishwasher, loaded the new dishes into the dishwasher, dusted, vacuumed, cleaned the toilet and tub, took a long soak in my clean tub, folded the laundry, made the bed, sewed buttons on a few pairs of pants, paid bills, balanced the checkbook, organized my desk and sorted the mail. As a sheer sop to my masculine pride I was forced to fix a leaky faucet. Good news is, I have a girl coming in to do all this once a week from now on. Yay!
And if that ain’t mundane and pointless, I dunno what is!
So, summary of my day. I bought dinner (Quarter Pounder Value Meal, supersized), ignored the dishwasher, noticed the vacuum was still in the corner, showered because I’m afraid to let anything but my feet touch the inside of the tub, moved the laundry pile away from the closet door so I could look for a missing shoe, slept in the unmade bed, thought about paying bills, found the checkbook, and tossed the mail in a heap on an end table.
You mean other people actaully know what Chicken Divan is?!?
But… with mashed potatoes? No, no, no, you serve it with egg noodles, so you can put the cheese sauce all over teh noodles and revel in the deliciousity.
I have been told that I would make a “Kickass wife” simply becuase I know how to use a lawn mower and build a fire. I however have no idea what Chicken Divan is and I definately don’t know how to make it. I Can make some pretty good garlic potatoes though.
It’s a poultry sized couch usually without back or arms often designed for use as a bed. Sheesh, don’t you have access to a dictionary for goodness’ sake?
-Rue.
This is the point at which someone should start a “Weirddave will make you an excellent wife!” thread, in which you select their bride for them based upon what you’ve read of them.
Ya know, I’ve often said I need a wife - I do so hate household chores - so whaddya say, Weirddave - wanna move to Florida? We’ll just tell my hubby that you’re my cousin… yeah, that’ll work…
Forget moving to Florida, Dave.
I need a wife, too, and I’m right here in Baltimore. You could come over every day and make dinner (I LOVE garlic mashed potatoes!).
If you insist on housing, I guess you could sleep on the couch in the family room. (Sorry, but with MrKinsey and LittlestKinsey in my bed, there’s no more room.)
I’m okay in the wife department Dave, but my wife needs a wife, or so she keeps telling me. You’d like it out here in Oregon now that we’ve got indoor plumbing and all.
Now excuse me while I go over here and interfere with Rue’s joke.
This style of furniture fell out of favor rather quickly because people didn’t like the feathers tickling their bottoms, although these couches still have a particular, ummm, following in some areas of the South.
Dang…and here, all this time I thought I’d make an excellent wife because I like to give oral sex and watch golf on TV. I didn’t know so much other stuff would be required of me to attain that particular title.
That’s not entirely accurate. The manufacturers ran afowl of Federal Regulators who weren’t Perdueish enough and were loose-lipped with the media. Word spread of badly made furniture and before any of us knew it, they’d been plucked clean of their assets. The original investors were eggcentric enough to consider moving the entire operation overseas.
Sorry Cartooniverse, looks like you had a leg up on me in the information department there. Oh well, no use beating my breast over it, I have to admit I was just winging it, dumb cluck that I am.
