Not just his mother, but apparently his grandmother has had dreams of him cheating on her.
Just this weekend we had heated words about outdoor extension cords. Luckily, he soon realized I was right, and we laughed at our silliness.
He’s come a long way over the years. He used to get mad at me for a week if I looked at him wrong or if I voiced excessive hatred for head lice or something.
Plus, Nava’s a chick! :eek:
Apparently tea can mean a lot more than just tea.
But if I measure the sugar
to satisfy your expectant tongue
then that is love,
sitting untouched and growing cold
http://www.musicsonglyrics.com/C/cowboyjunkieslyrics/cowboyjunkiescoldteablueslyrics.htm
Two big ones that were heated and hateful abnd crazy and stupid…
1 - Whether Data from ST:TOS should be granted human rights. This has since been resolved as one of us capitulated (but it was years later)…
2 - Whether the aliens from the new War of the Worlds were “better” than the ones from the old one. Issues of biology, evolution, movie creature design, emotional response, ocean life - you name it, it was brought up. He liked the old ones (with the tri-color light bulbs) while I thought the new ones were more scientifically accurate. I was supremely pissed at him, and there was actually yelling and accusations of being an idiot.
I am getting a little mad right now just thinking about it… 
Yeah, I wondered about that, too.
How do you cheat on your mom? Ask another woman to remind you how long she was in labor with you?
My ex and I once had a screaming fight, in front of dinner guests, over the fact that our apartment was getting much hotter than what we were setting the thermostat to (this was in winter). He believed that there was nothing wrong with the thermostat, and that our neighbors below us must just have their heat turned up a lot higher than ours. I argued that for our apartment to get this hot, our downstairs neighbors would have to have the heat turned up so high they were actually baking, and there must be something wrong with the thermostat. It wasn’t pretty.
My current husband and I often have silly little bickerfits, but I wouldn’t call them “fights” because we don’t really get angry about them. It’s just that neither of us is willing to concede a certain point. This usually involves stuff like whether it would be better to have an actual, working phaser (like in Star Trek) or an actual, working lightsaber (like in Star Wars). These can go on for days.
Mrs B once accidentally hit me in the eye with the TV guide when she was faking “hitting me in the eye with the TV guide” - which from my end of the situation, appeared as though she was purposefully trying to throw the TV guide at my eye. Kind of like when the stuntman throws a punch and actually punches you, you might just come away with the impression that he wanted to punch you.
Well, I yelled,“F#$k, What the hell dis you do that for”.
She immediately reduced to tears because of my shouts and then wouldn’t talk to me for at least five minutes because I startled her.
The fight ended when I apologized to my wife for her hitting me.
Ah yes, the ole “Is Tori Spelling attractive” fight. My answer was absolutely not, she has creepy bug eyes and a horrifying cavern in between her awful implants. My boyfriend called her “hot”. Things got elevated to the point that he photoshopped her head onto mine in a cute picture of us. To this day, I still think he is fucking with me, because no way can he actually find her attractive. He has better taste than that. Ooh, I’m getting all heated up right now!
Then there was the is this Queen playing with David Bowie in “Under Pressure”, and usually I am chockful of correct trivia and no no no that was not Queen playing with David Bowie singing. That one sucked for me to look up.
Yeah, we don’t fight, we just bicker over extremely trivial things, and we actually enjoy it. It usually ends up with someone busting out laughing. Not with Tori Spelling, though.
I had that same fight over Cat Stevens back in the day. The relationship wasn’t long for this world after that one.
Scene: First Canadian girl I ever dated. She stayed overnight and the next morning we were both in my kitchen when I started to make breakfast. I started by microwaving some bacon, in a special dish I used for this.
Her: You should cover the dish in plastic wrap you know.
Me: The bacon?
Her: No, the dish. That will make it easier to wash, because the grease won’t get on it.
Me: Well, the dish has these thingies to catch the grease, you see? If I cover them the grease will go all over the microwave.
Her: You only say that because you don’t have to do the dishes!
I look around, yes I am still in my apartment, my kitchen, and there’s a dishwasher right there next to the sink.
Apparently that look was a signal for civility to stop. Sometime in the next few minutes raw and cooked bacon was thrown on the floor, the sink, and in the dishwasher. And my special bacon dish ended up embedded in a tree outside my door after being thrown out the window.
And they say Latin women have a temper. Almost put me off Canadian women.
Nah, it wasn’t cheating. Grandma was pissed about me not telling her I had a boyfriend (I didn’t have any boyfriends, but she’d dreamed I did); Mom about some other crap that she’d dreamed had happened (once it was because she’d dreamed that Lilbro had stood up and left in the middle of Mass; another time because she’d dreamed I was refusing to play with her a board game that she doesn’t even like). But it was the same crap of being mad at someone for stuff that was absolutely not real.
My boyfriend and I got into a public yelling match about the primary cause of the Civil War.
With my last SO, we got in an argument over how much fat I was eating in one meal. Keep in mind that at the time I was extremely skinny by anyone’s standards and also training for a full marathon. I had been on a 21-mile training run that morning and was starving when we went out to brunch. So I ordered pancakes, eggs and bacon, as well as coffee with cream. He went ballistic. He told me that not only would I get fat if I ate like that, if I had anything over five grams of fat per meal, I would get cancer and die. I responded that I had burned more calories than I had eaten the entire day before, to which he said that it was a good thing, too, because a size 4 was too fat (I’m 5’7" tall).
When I got up to leave, he whined, “I just want you to live as long as possible.” So I said, “So I can be miserable and stuck with you forever?” Then I left, a friend was kind enough to pick me up and we went to another diner where I had my pancakes, bacon, eggs and coffee with cream.
Same ex. We were in the Lowes parking lot and this woman walked past us in these super tight jeans and she had a grade A ass. I held my stare one millisecond too long and the wife caught me staring and she knew that I knew that she caught me. Crap, busted. Ensuing conversation…
Her: My butt looks better than her’s. (yep, she went there)
Me: I think so to babe, you know I love your butt.
Her: You were gawking at her.
Me: I just glanced at her, I’m sorry honey. (this seems to satisfy her)
We finish our shopping and fortunately don’t come across the woman with the grade A ass again. We go out to lunch, come home and shoot some pool, have a few beers and are having a great day. The kids aren’t home and I’m feeling frisky. (you see where this is going boys and girls) We start dancing to a Patsy Cline song on the Juke box and my hand wanders down to her butt. (Oops)
Her: What are you doing?
Me: What do you mean? (Danger Will Robinson)
Her: You know what I mean.
Me: The kids aren’t home…
Her: AND YOU THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO HAVE SEX WITH ME WHILE YOU THINK OF THAT CHICK AT LOWES!?!
What do you say to that? I feebly mumbled sorry again and headed for the couch.
Not the most stupid fight ever but it was memorable.
I was doing my best effort at speaking Spanish casually with my (now ex-) husband and I wanted to say something like, “They catch people that way.” I used the verb agarrar “to grab” instead of coger “to catch” because we were in Los Angeles and in Mexico and the LA area coger is the verb meaning sexual intercourse.
But he was from South America where there was nothing giggle-worthy about the word coger, so he went ballistic because I didn’t use the “right” word, and when we finished yelling and screaming we didn’t talk for hours.
We had gotten married about ten minutes earlier.
When I was around 21 or so I did the thing where I woke up from a dream where he was beating me, and yes, I was mad. The emotions run high. I’ve never done it since, but he’s never let me live it down.
The worst I can think of is once we got into a screaming crying shouting match in the car because he asked me to take out the gem in my nose before I met his parents for the first time. Instead of calmly answering, “No, I don’t think so - I’ve had my nose pierced since I was eighteen and you came after and it’s part of my culture and eventually she’s going to have to see it,” I took it very personally.
That was probably our worst fight ever and went right down to our mothers. Yeesh.
The root of the problem was you were using wrong kind of bacon 
My SO is only half Norwegian, but what you say sounds so …familiar.
I think the stupidest thing we’ve argued about so far is where the folded laundry should rest before it is put away.
No, the geography argument as never resolved, and on another day, I made the mistake of bringing up the two words “Belgium” and “France” in the same sentence and off we were again. I sort of won the argument (partially) because he died before a winner was determined.
BTW, I don’t even remember whether I was a “north-ist” or an “east-ist”
Do you remember your stance on the Harry Potter title?
P.S. I’m enjoying this thread a lot. So much of what I read seems familiar.
I know of what you speak, and when it happens I lose my faith in the the future of humanity for a few hours.
And to anyone (pretty much all female, I think) who has done the “get mad at someone because you had a dream” thing…
Please.
Don’t.
People have to control their impulses. Sometimes I want to smash into a bad driver. Sometimes I want to just feel a stranger’s leg. Sometimes I want to walk out of the store with a new camera under my coat. I don’t.
Maybe, some people feel that because they’re married or deeply involved that they shouldn’t have to censor their impulses. Yes, you still do. You can act silly, but you can’t pick fights for silly reasons. Not without damaging the relationship.