Thursday, June 17, 2010
But there are a few things that I have learned in the whole 11 days I have been married. First, Mrs. Ace seems to like me more right now. I don't know what to make of this. For example, I have an unhealthy obsession with my aquarium which she reminds me of constantly. If my Yellow Tang had a vagina I would totally try to procreate with it. But I was forced to drop $120 on a new lighting system because my other one burnt out. A couple days later I had to go buy new bulbs for it and ended up coming home not only with bulbs, but with $60 worth of corals. She didn't even care. If I would have done that a month ago she would have taken a sledge hammer to the tank and made me cook the inhabitants for dinner. Either she is plotting on me, the chemicals I had placed in the engagement ring are finally kicking in, or she knows she is going to hate me for the rest of our lives so she is just trying to positive while she can. Christ, lets hope it's the chemicals.
However, there is one thing that I absolutely cannot do, no matter how much Mrs. Ace is pretending to like me. I cannot use kitchen towels for anything other than dishes. In Mrs. Ace's kitchen if you dare let those towels touch anything other than soapy water, it's your ass. Trying to clean up grease on the stove? It's your ass. Cleaning up spilled booze on the counter? It's your ass. If there is so much as a fucking hint of stain on those towels she will hobble your ass like in Misery.
What the hell is up with that? Why do women pick the most random thing to be so defensive of? It's a fucking three dollar towel, treat it like that. If I want to use it to clean the bacon grease off the Foreman or clean the drip pan on the grill, I will because I'm a man, dammit. No sissy rag is going to stop me from doing what I have to do. It's not like I crust it up with baby batter like Daniel does at his place. I just want to clean shit. That's all.
You know what else I've learned? You don't use a knife in a pan because it scratches the pan. Because a scratch in the pan makes it cook different, right? Of course not. The pan could look like Edward Scissor Hands was making the dish and the shit would still come out delicious, especially if I am captaining the stove at the time. Why the hell does this matter? It's not hanging on the fucking wall. We never have company over but if we did the first thing I would show them certainly wouldn't be my collection of T-Fal.
Another thing that I've realized is that I need to pre-screen the mail before I bring it in the house. If it's not a bill or a wedding invitation(why the fuck is everybody getting married this summer?) then it absolutely cannot come into the house. If it does it is destined to sit on my kitchen table for all eternity. I have never seen anybody hoard mail like Mrs. Ace. Goddammit, it's a check stub from six months ago, please let me throw it in the trash where it belongs. Anybody want an Oriental Trading coupon from 2007? You bet your sweet ass we have it. Want to know what Giant Eagle had on sale in October? Got it. My wife is goddamn mail addict and I don't know if she can kick the habit! Why couldn't she just smoke meth?
Now don't get me wrong, I know I have it good--She's actually cool with us going to Vegas for our honeymoon. No better time to show her my gambling problem, right?-- I mean, I'm complaining about my wife(damn, that's weird) liking clean towels for fuck's sake. It's not like she is driving me to take family vacations as a grown man without her--with a friend. But I'm sure you readers have a lady in your life other than your mother and Betty the blow-up that does things that just puzzle you. Consider this your opportunity to vent in the comments and get sound relationship advice from Uncle Ace. You're welcome.