Husband Clothes

Hi. Being that it’s Easter Weekend, my husband is spending many hours at home. This means, I can’t post as freely as I usually can. Darn it. And it also means that topics to write and complain about are piling up (though I will not be able to vent about them until Monday…) SO quickly, while he’s out (yay!), two critical updates:

1. So help me if his beard gets any longer, I may not be able to resist the urge to yank it out. Oh please, who am I kidding. I’m a pushover. He’s not doing anything about it whatsoever. Unless it drives me to crying, screaming, and cursing–but I’ve been putting up with this for 9 years–it takes a lot more than a tacky (okay, atrocious) beard to get me to that point…

By the way, did I say if the beard gets “longer”? Unfortunately, it doesn’t get long, it gets WIDE. No, I am not joking. It curls up and expands in width, not length. And his isn’t one of those little chin beard things. No, no, it’s one of those grows under your chin from ear to ear things. He’s pretty much a brunette Santa/Grizzly Adams character right now. (I’m so sorry to be changing topics at the speed of light on you here, but did anyone else think Grizzly Adams was hot when you were little? I sure did. Hm, maybe that’s why I married my husband…)

2. Tooth Update: After the dentist appointment, they supposedly told him that fixing the CHIP would be an “extremely complex process.” He claims to have made an appointment but he “can’t remember” when the appointment is. When I say, “Oh I’ll call them for you to ask,” he says he has the appointment written down on a paper “in the car.” See, I know his tricks. Monday, I’m calling to see if there’s an appointment. If there is NOT an appointment with the dentist, I may make a little appointment with a local hotel. As in, to go live there with my children until my husband gets himself looking presentable again with that tooth and beard. He and his tooth and beard can go down, but he isn’t taking me down with him. No sir.

3. Fun Activity Update: I am so excited. We’re having two couples over for dinner tomorrow. They both have kids. It’s going to be loud and wild. I have a ton of food to fix–it is already 7pm. I’ll be up till 2am again. Don’t let me act like I hate it–I love staying up…

Okay. So, I have no idea what time he got home from work last night. (But, per the post below, that’s fine.)

SO, this morning, the alarm clock goes off at 7:40am. I said, “Honey, the clock went off.” No response. “Honey, the alarm went off. When are you getting up?”

He said, “Sometime after 8:00am.”

Okay, my job’s done. I’m going back to sleep for a few because I tried to wait up for him and am now sleep-deprived because of it. SO, a little later, I’m up and getting the kids ready. The alarm goes off for the tenth time.

I kid you not, he looks at me with a totally hurt and shocked facial expression and says “Why didn’t you get me up??? Now I’m going to be LATE!” Hm. That’s gratitude for ya.

Wow, it’s 1:30am, and my poor husband is still at work. I am so glad I already posted the mean post about how he wasted a lot of money, because I would feel kind of bad about posting it now…Well, not that bad I suppose. Who am I kidding? I love mean posts about guys, especially the ones I post about my husband.

So, I was going to try to wait for him, but I am falling asleep sitting up. He hasn’t worked this late since…hmmm, probably since we moved to California 4 years ago. Wow, time flies.

Notice, I don’t gripe about his work hours. A big part of that is that I like not being forced to watch new movie trailors and You-tube videos every 5 minutes, which is what happens when he comes home. Another big part of it is that I know what it’s like to not have enough income to pay bills. SO, I gripe about many things, and all for excellent reasons, but never my husband’s work hours. I’m just glad he has a good job and loves it even though it’s hard.

Hi, I was just reminiscing about all this money that my husband has wasted over the years. I think I need to start a new blog called Pushover Wife. Two large sums wasted:

1. Wasted Money on Expensive Gym: We lived in Arlington, Virginia, and my husband wanted a gym membership. There were 2 gyms very close to us: the YMCA and the REALLY super expensive gym in the Ballston Mall. So, of course, my husband needs to choose the expensive one at the mall because of “the hours.” (What hours? He had a part-time job!) Whatever. So, he gets that one. $70 a month. Yeah, so YMCA was only $30–the HOURS, he needs the convenient hours. Then guess what. HE WENT TWO TIMES IN A YEAR. Then to stop the membership cost us $200. So, let’s do the math: $70 x 10 months (or more) = $700 + $200 = $900. There we go, $900 wasted dollars. Yaaaaaaay.

2. Unnecessary Waste on U-haul Moving Van: Soon after this gym catastrophe, we moved from Arlington, VA to Reston, VA. My husband was in charge of the moving van. Thank goodness, because he literally did NOTHING else–except load the van (but that’s van-related). Didn’t pack one, single box.

I advised him to call friends to help us move our things. Oh no, he says, I’ll do it myself. Okay, honey, do it yourself. That’s a really smart plan–that’s why everyone always avoids calling people for help when they move–because it’s just plain smart. This was only one of his many brilliant moving theories. We have moved 8 times in 9 years of marriage.

So, he loads the van and drives it to Reston. Well, low and behold, he was so sore after loading all that stuff in the van that he could barely move for days. We reserved the U-haul for one day. ONE. Guess how many days it sat in front of our apartment? FOUR DAYS. This made a LOT of people mad:

1) Obviously, it made me mad. My STUFF was in the van, not the apartment.

2) It made our neighbor super mad. This was the guy who had the parking space beside us, as in, beside our MOVING VAN in the space sized for a car. His family gave us dirty looks for that until they moved out of the complex. So embarrassing.

3) It made U-haul furious. They YELLED at my husband when he drove the van back. Total cost for one day: $75. Total cost for 4 days: $300. Flat out waste–may as well have thrown $225 into a garbage can.

Tip: I’m putting a link to Upack here–it’s a company that helps you move by driving the van (but YOU pack the van). Used them to move from Virginia to California–saved LOTS.

Oh my gosh. I just saw through the news that 22,000 more people are jobless. It’s so hard when the husband/live-in beau has no job. (But fun when I don’t have one…sorry if that sounds catty, but I have earned the right to say it. Also, I currently do have a job, actually 3 of them–but more on girls and jobs at another time.)

I remember well the days when my husband was applying for jobs, never getting them, and then failing when he finally did. [Update: he did finally succeed and now does very well in the movie industry—but who knows about tomorrow—don’t worry about us, thanks to my husband, we experienced poverty and could certainly overcome it again.]

Anyway, I thought I’d write a lil’ “How Not To” based on his early job experiences and, more often than not, unemployment. Guys: if your family is desperately in need of you getting a job, don’t do these things:

1. Do NOT find a job that does not pay sick days and take one day off each week because you “don’t feel good” or you “are sure the boss doesn’t mind.” (Note: especially do not do this if you are getting only $7 per hour. Your honey can probably accept a low salary, but not the weekly day off that makes the salary even lower, k?)
2. Do NOT apply for a job and feel that you need to “hear the results” before applying to the next job. Note that when you don’t get results soon, that usually means that the result is “no.” So waiting simply means you will be out of a job much, much longer than your wife or girlfriend can put up with you.
3. Do NOT show up to interviews 2 hours late. If you do, do not accidentally spill your Mountain Dew all over the receptionist’s desk while she stares at you like you are a freak.
4. Do NOT show up to a job, try to show them something you “know how to do” on the computer, and freeze their entire network. (Yes, my husband did this.)
5. Do NOT ask for $50,000 salary when the job is worth $30,000. In fact, for all of you newbie’s out there, PLEASE don’t ask for a salary—really. Tell them to give you a range, and pick the middle number. Or, if you’re super desperate, pick a lower number in the range—but not the bottom one.
6. Do NOT assume that, because “in your opinion” it’s better to wear casual clothes, the place where you have your interview will find that admirable. They will not. They will think you have been living in a cave because everyone knows you wear a suit to an interview. (Well, not in the movie industry–I have to give him this one.)
7. Do NOT say that you will wear a suit, but that a tie is “taking it too far.” A suit without a tie is like a car without wheels. Trust me—it will make you look dumb and will get you nowhere.
8. Don’t wear damn white socks to an interview. I can’t even get into this topic again without getting annoyed. Listen to your girlfriend on this one. Read GQ. Please tell me that you at least know what GQ is—if not, ask your girlfriend. (And be really thankful that you managed to get a girlfriend.)
9. DO look darn busy at home while you are unemployed. Try to be out of the house looking for jobs a lot. Do NOT be like my husband was–sleeping most of the time, sitting around the house, getting crumbs everwhere due to continous snacking (hey, he had nothing else to do), and be playing Nintendo when your lady gets home from work. Hey, fix freaking dinner sometimes please. You may not have a job, but your wife does, and it’s annoying to come home and cook for your butt when you’re sitting around cruising the Internet. Use your brain.
10. When you are offered your first job in a long time, DO take it. Don’t turn that crap down thinking you’re going to wait for something better–like my husband did. Take that job, then quit when you get the better one.
11. Oh, oops, did I start sounding bitter? My, my, well try being a teacher for 5 years (and going to graduate school) while your husband “learns 3D animation,” and doesn’t ever have a full-time job OR benefits, and you’ll understand:)
12. For anyone who is too sad to think this post is at all amusing, I am sure there is a light at the end of the tunnel. If my husband found it, BELIEVE me, anyone can.

I have mentioned in previous posts, my husband is naturally handsome. It’s one of the main reasons I wanted to date him. Also, he knows 3 languages and he’s really, really kind. The problem is that he often sabotages his his good looks. Let’s look at an example. Does your guy ever do this? I hope not. Oops, sorry, this post is for guys. Guys, do you ever do this to your girlfriends or wives?

[Update: My husband finally read my blog–after 2 years! He made me take down his photo. I have no choice–he’s a techie and could shut down my blog in a matter of seconds–though he did not threaten to do so. SO imagine: Photo A–very hot looking bald guy with a shaven beard and shirt with light stain on it. Photo B: shaggy, dumpy looking guy with wide, but not long, beard, and a clump of hair sticking out on the left side of his head.]

See how hot my husband looks in Photo A? Nicely trimmed hair and beard. Oh, well, he is wearing the pirate shirt with the florescent green thing on it…um, and there is a large, though light, stain on the shirt to the right of the pirate. You know, this is about as good as it gets for me, and as sad as it is, I still think he looks hot and am still going to use this as the “model” photo to demonstrate my point.

Now, guys, let’s examine Photo B. Notice:
1) The “blob” of hair sticking out (left side).
2) The woolly beard and mustache. I’m going to make this short and sweet (don’t tune out, this is important) girls, especially girlfriends and wives who are no longer awed by your hotness, don’t want to be near you when you resemble Grizzly Adams, or worse, an actual grizzly bear.

Guys, do you see the difference the shave and hair grooming made from Photo A to Photo B? I know some guys do. For the ones who don’t: you’re just going to have to trust me. There is a huge difference. I’ll prove it. Groom yourself for 2 solid weeks and watch how the special lady in your life suddenly becomes attracted to you again. And maybe other ladies. But be good, Tiger, remember who loves you when you look like Photo B.

(Note to husband in case he is spying on me and my blog: SEE, I TOLD you your hair was sticking out on the left side. Now do you think it looks “fine”? Didn’t think so.)

Hi, I love this photo. It makes me feel better about my life. Sent from a nice girl in Washington, DC. Her boyfriend is “taking charge” of emptying the trash, and this photo proves it.

Does this photo make me feel good because my husband is good about emptying the garbage? Oh please. No. This photo makes me feel good that I have overcome the desire to ask him to do anything around the house ever. I know he’s not going to do it. There’s no point in asking, cursing, screaming, or even bringing it up. Granted, it took me about 5 years of time and lots of emotional turmoil, plus many sad days, and a few marriage counselors to learn this little trick of the trade (the “trade” being my marriage. Ha ha, good one! Get it? Trade easy life for life of taking out other peoples’ trash). Some guys learn. Mine doesn’t. Unless it has to do with software.

I’m not saying her boyfriend will never help. I’ve seen it happen–just not to me. So, um, I’m just saying that I’ll, um, keep you posted on any progress reports in the coming … uh…days.

Finally, a photo of some very questionable, borderline frightening, work attire that does not belong to MY husband. These shoes belong to the husband of one of my very good friends. Take a look at these little treasures:

Come on now. Are you sure these things are shoes? Where could this guy have possibly purchased these? No–don’t tell me. If my husband is in fact spying on my blog, he must not see the name of this store under any circumstances. If you recall, my husband isn’t the best judge of shoes himself (follow the link to get a look at his charming ankle cowboy boots that were never in style or in any way acceptable for public wear).

Oops, my husband has entered the room. Of course, he is checking email on his cell phone and totally oblivious to the fact that I am present. He is facing my computer screen and does not appear at all phased. But I must go nonetheless.

Oh, look for more guest photos tomorrow–boyfriend garbage overflow and husband kitchen help (different girls) . Also, just in case you have this same issue (with husbands and shoes), here is a link to a shoe store with low prices and top name brands. Your guy could probably shop here himself and get something decent–I don’t think they even carry velcro office shoes:

I think my husband might be spying on me! The day after I posted the photo of his brown wrinkled pants (below), he put them in the laundry basket.

Now, perhaps that doesn’t seem like a huge coincidence right off the bat. But he has outright refused to let me (yes, as in ALLOW ME) to wash the pants for 3 WEEKS.

And suddenly, when I make fun of them on my blog, he decides to wash them? Something seems awry. I will keep you posted.

Alright, this one’s a doozy. These are my husband’s favorite pants. Can you tell? They are (as in WERE) good, quality pants–Levi’s, you know, not the type you’d expect to wrinkle like aluminum foil.

But the problem doesn’t lie in the fabric. No, the problem is my husband’s firm belief that pants can be worn 20 times before they are washed. (I will add right now that despite all logic, after 20 wears of pants, my husband does NOT smell. If he did, I would be the first to let you know.) Here is a photo before I go any further:

Moving right along, my husband wears these pants with the florescent green pirate shirt below. He wears this nifty little combo to work at LEAST twice each week. And washes it once every 2 months. Meaning I wash it once every 2 months.

These pants are classified as UNT (Urgently Need to be Trashed). But I would be killed. I think my husband would divorce me 10 times before he’d give these things up. I can be slick sometimes though. So if anyone has any sneaky ideas on “accidents” that could happen to these pants–do let me know. (But they have to be good, as in no “oops, I accidentally ran over your pants with the lawn mower” stories. I’m thinking perhaps our three-year old marks up the pants while I’m “in the bathroom” or something of this nature.)

While I’m at it, do you enjoy the tie things at the bottom? I sure do. My favorite is the tie thing sticking out through the zipper. I am sure those guys come in handy.