The Joke Is Always On Me

Last night I was crabby and I got irritated and the stupid lamp in the living room. I put in three light bulbs and NONE OF THEM WORKED. By the time I finally got a working light bulb in there I was cursing at it like a sailor.

Grouchily, I frowned at Gllen and said, "That was too hard."

He looked at me, calculating in his mind and replied, "There's a joke in there... but I will refrain." My face screwed up into a full-on scowl and he lifted his arms to protect himself just in case I threw a punch and exclaimed "I REFRAINED!!!!!"

I backed away infinitesimally.

That small gesture of retreat gave him the confidence to un-refrain, because he said, "How many girlfriends does it take to screw in a light bulb?" My hand curled into a fist. Before I could take any further action, he placated, "Just one." I gave him a good, long angry stare before retreating into the living room. I knew what the real joke was, even if he hadn't gotten it yet...

How many boyfriends does it take to screw in a light bulb?
None. His girlfriend will do it for him.

Ruined For Life

Gllen recently discovered the glory of the Whole Foods meat counter. On a quick trip there one day, he was window shopping the meats and (even though he had recently eaten dinner) was drooling at the display. The next day, it was all he could think about. When I came home from work, he immediately started asking me if we could go back. I finally caved and we set out on our journey.

After about 30 seconds in the store, he was no longer by my side. As I browsed the vegetables and fruits, Gllen ran off to the meat counter. I didn't find him again until 15 minutes later. He had the biggest grin on his face. As we walked out to the car, he started to laugh to himself. Clutching the paper bag in his hand, he loped towards the car with a spring in his step. He stated, "The guy at the meat counter and I just sat and giggled and each other."

I stopped in my tracks. Not only was Gllen offering up information without my prodding, he was telling me that he INTERACTED with someone. "Why?"

The story poured forth: "I told him I wanted a really thick rib-eye. He said, 'Well, I have THESE!' and he pointed to these rib-eye roasts. They are like as big as my head." He grunted his approval at the meat counter dude and as the guy packaged up the meat, I guess they both sat and giggled at the amazingness of the meat and how delicious it would be. It is now a favorite pastime of mine to imagine this exchange.

When we got it home, Gllen unwrapped the steak and I realized he was being modest about the steak. I had to get out a ruler to measure just how thick it was...

Imagine some Gllen evil laughter as he watched me measure his steak's massive four inches. Back to the story... He allowed the steak to rest, but had to keep going back to revel in its beauty, and, yes, he was stroking it:

Of course, I'm hooting with laughter, running around taking pictures. This one is now Gllen's desktop wallpaper:

As he cooked it, Gllen was drooling and slurping like Jaques Pepin. Every so often, he would raise his fists in the air, shaking them to a fro as if shaking a money tree for all it was worth. The final product was a thing of beauty (to Gllen - I didn't really care. I was more interested in watching Gllen court the steak).

He was only able to eat about an eighth of it before he was full. And that potato was just garnish, as far as I am concerned. Don't worry, though. He was able to finish it over the course of a few days. Every last bite.

Now, though, I'm worried. This was Gllen's white whale - the ultimate rib-eye. What could possibly top this?

He's Spoiled and He Spoiled It

I had a really great surprise for Gllen last week and he ruined it. Back in December, I had discovered that his favorite Cartoon Network show was doing a live tour. I marked on my calendar the exact date and time the tickets went on sale - and when that moment came, I purchased the best seats available. I wondered if I should give these tickets to Gllen for Christmas, but decided against it, because I knew he wasn't getting me anything. So I decided to wait and give the tickets to him as a "Surprise - I love you!" kind of gift. I waited for over a month and a half to give him his damn surprise.

It seemed like it would work out perfectly. The day before the show, he mentioned that he wanted to go to MicroCenter. I was full of goodwill and told him "Oh, I'll take you there after work tomorrow!" Just getting him in the car was a giant hurdle, and now it seemed as though I wouldn't have to trick him into it.

All day at work, I was full of anticipation - I had romanticized the surprise in my head: We go to MicroCenter, we leave, Gllen realizes that I am not driving in the right direction, I keep quiet, we park in a parking garage and I get out of the car. Gllen complains (ok, not romantic, but I had to expect some irritation from him), We walk towards the Pantages Theatre, Gllen notices the marquee "Tim and Eric's Awesome Show Great Job TONIGHT!" and a look of realization/astonishment/awe/excitement/wonder crosses his face. Hug, kiss, happy ending - Janelle receives "Best Girlfriend Ever" Award.

This is NOT how it happened. I got home from work and eagerly ask, "Ready to go to MicroCenter?" Gllen was lazing about on the couch with Baby Laptop looking like he'll never get up. "I don't need to go, I fixed it." I took off my coat, defeated. How was I going to get him into the car? I sit down and try to make small talk... I only have a half an hour to come up with a plan, otherwise we would be late.

Like a turrets patient exploding out in expletives, Gllen says "Let's get some steak!" I jumped, figuratively and literally... Here was the answer! But we couldn't actually go get steak and then leave it in the car for hours, so I would have to stall, and then not actually take him to the grocery store. "Ok." I said, tentatively. "Give me a few minutes."

For the next ten minutes, Gllen's turrets did not ease. All I heard was "Let's get some steak! Let's get some steak!" I kept coming up with excuses why we couldn't leave yet. Here is how the conversation went:

"Let's get some steak!"
"I'm not quite hungry yet."
"Let's get some steak!"
"I need to go the bathroom."
"Let's get some steak!"
"My stomach hurts, let's wait a bit."
"Let's get some steak!"
"Let me check my email quick."
"Let's get some steak!"
"I need to call my mother."

Finally he decides he is tired of waiting and gets up to go get the steak on his own. I mean, seriously, can't he wait 30 frickin minutes to get some stupid steak? I ask him to wait for me, that I will go with him. He didn't want to hear any more excuses. "No, you just sit here and I'll go get the steaks." Great, now he thought I was being super lazy. I started to get desperate. "No, just wait a little while longer and I'll come with you. I want to!" By this time he is annoyed with me and says acerbically "You can stay here and I'll go. It's fine."

I couldn't let him leave to get those stupid steaks. Once he had them in his hands, nothing would stop him from cooking them. There was no way I was going to get him in the car again, and now my vague excuses had gotten me dis-invited from the grocery store trip. I began to beg. "Please don't go get steak. "

"What is wrong with you? I'm going to get steak. You don't have to eat any. Do whatever you want." This was accompanied by a look of utter disgust.

I grab his arms. This is a desperate gesture (and so cliche I'm about to vomit) and cry "Trust me! Don't get steak! Just wait! Why can't you wait? Trust me, you don't want to go get steak right now!"

Gllen obviously thinks I'm crazy. He's half laughing with the absurdity of it. He tries to push past me, to get his keys. He is now on a mission.

"You're ruining EVERYTHING!" I sob. Now Gllen wants to leave, not only to get steaks, but to get away from me.

Angrily, I lash out, "Fine! You'll be sorry!" I stomp over to my purse, yank out the tickets and fling them at him. "It was supposed to be a surprise!"

Realizing that he has erred, and erred badly, Gllen looks at the tickets sheepishly. At first he can't figure out what they are, but then he figures it out. He does give me the look of realization/astonishment/awe/excitement/wonder. In the end, I guess he was still surprised, but it wasn't the romantic version I had in my head.

Gllen is an obstinate donkey sometimes. And I guess I am a Steak Nazi.

I Try To Forget

Gllen and I are researching a recipe for chili, and he suggested adding spicy Italian sausage to our shopping list. I adamantly refused, as I absolutely hate Italian sausage. Polish sausage - OK. Breakfast sausage - OK. Gllen got a little pouty-faced, and I felt bad. I say, "I'm sorry... I thought you knew that I hated it." In the saddest little voice you can imagine, he responds, "I try to forget."

"Try to forget what?" Still pouting, he answers, "Your bad taste in sausage." Poor little meat-lover.