Good morning! According to my hubby, I am a militant, anti-gratitude, angry, preachy person! That’s right guys…apparently I stood up-on a soapbox and loudly declared, “Gratitude blows!” without even knowing it!
It all started when I asked him to read yesterday’s post I wrote in a migraine-med fog and wanted an un-medicated opinion as to whether or not it made much sense.
Hubby: "It makes sense, but you kinda went on a tangent."
Hubby: "Yeah. You REALLY got on your soap box for that one, didn’t ya? You just sounded all preachy about anti-gratitude…and you hate Oprah."
Me: "Hey! Leave the whole “Oprah” argument out of this! And I was NOT preaching! I love gratitude! You missed the whole freakin’ point…"
Hubby: "That one really kinda scared me…all the yelling about “Love!” and stuff…" *all speaking stops as something “good” comes on Sports Center*
Me: *starting to yell* "I wasn’t yelling, I was being funny. Didn’t you read the funny parts?"
Hubby: "I think I missed those…but I read the whole thing. Where was the funny supposed to be? I just got that you hate gratitude and Oprah…"
Me: "I WAS MEDICATED!!!!!!"
After that, it kinda devolved into some foul-language chaos, which to him ultimately proved he was correct in his assessment of my anti-gratitude-Oprah stance. (He views any “discussion” that ends with me having an attack of unintelligible potty-mouth as a win in his column!)
But..I got even! You see, yesterday also happened to be my Mother-In-law’s Birthday. (I love you Nana!) We celebrated by taking her out to dinner at the half-way-mark between our towns…
The company was great, the food wasn’t bad, and the service…blew chunks! (Not literally…that would have been gross!) At the end of our meal, (which I had spent being rather silent because I was secretly using my phone under the table to time the Server) the Manager came over to wish Nana a Happy Birthday and do the standard “good-natured ribbing of the Birthday person…who in this case is a 68 year old, retired, as-straight-laced-as-they-come Teacher.
He started with the whole, “Don’t party to much…” schtick…and I erased my good-behavior, brownie points by opening my mouth...
|A REALLY good sport who|
does NOT look her age!
(I think our joking keeps her young!)
Me: “Hey Nana, isn't the Senior Ladies Quilting Group throwing you a kegger later?”
Nana: “WHAT!?!" (Realizing it's a joke but it's me...so this could get REAL "ugly" REAL quick) "Oh, yes. He...He..."
Hubby: “Oh yeah…those Ladies REALLY know how to party!”
Me: (Looking sweetly at seriously confused Manager) “You should see Nana do a keg-stand! She’s amazing!”
Huuby: “Yeah, Nana’s a pro at Beer-Pong!” (See why I love this guy?)
Nana: “Oh my…” *insert forced nervous laughter here*
Me: “Hay Nana, after you’re all buzzed, weren’t you guys gonna call the Men’s Whittling Group over for body shots?”
My Daughter: “Yeah! And then they’re gonna play Strip-Bingo!” (She takes after her Mother. I’m so proud!)
After that? Our side of the table was falling over in the booth, scream-laughing, the Manager was completely lost as to what the hell to do with THIS, and poor Nana? I’ve never seen a woman turn so many shades of red! Blushing? NOT EVEN CLOSE!
So you see, hubby, one lone man, may think I’m an anti-gratitude Oprah-hater, but an entire Restaurant KNOWS I’m pro Senior PAR-TAY HAR-DAY. So I win!
PS I think I just figured out how to make my millions…I’ll invent a safety harness for Senior keg-stands! I can even have the totally AWESOME ShamWow Guy sell it for me. That way? I can not only provide a much-needed service but fulfill my life-long dream of meeting the guy in person at the same time! BONUS!!!!