It has come to my attention that my personal mutant superpower is the ability to sell any comment I make, no matter how outrageously inane.
I've learned this from my wife, who even though we have been together for almost two years now, still cannot tell when I am lying my *** off.
Hopefully, she won't catch on anytime soon or I am going to have to start behaving a lot better. Keep in mind, I don't lie about anything of substance. I'm not trying to cover for bad marital behavior or anything...just stupid stuff. Like when she asks what I'm thinking and instead of telling the truth (which is probably something incredibly dumb) I'll give her some line of BS about alien invasions and the sound of pudding.
I think my ability to fool her completely over the most egregiously stupid things is a fair trade. You see, her behavior isn't always exemplary.
For instance: she never, I mean never, feels the need to sneak up behind my and squeeze my pectorals....unless I was working out the day before. Supposedly, she never knows this because I exercise when she isn't at home. Somehow, she knows. For some reason, she has a God-given gift to cause an insane amount of physical pain at the time when it would hurt the most.
Of course, when I tell her the reason I am thereafter curled up in a ball and weeping softly, she apologizes.
And then does it again about eight minutes later.
She claims that she forgot my earlier cries of pain.
I'm not buying it.
She'* a woman, you see. They enjoy causing pain. At least that is what my father told me. He wouldn't lie to me.
Plus, she never cooks. Seriously. She loves eating food. She loves watching people make food. But she herself has no desire to be a part of the creating of food.
Well, she cooked once.
I came downstairs to the sweet smell of deliciously cooked beef. As I neared the kitchen, I began wondering where the smell was coming from. You see, I knew we had no beef in the refrigerator. In the freezer, we had some pretty expensive Filet Mignon....but there is no way she would be frying that up for breakfast. Right?
Worse. She opens the oven and removes a casserole she made. With the aforementioned Filet Mignon (which will continue to be capitalized due to the respect garnered by its cost). I figure that casserole would probably run about $25 a plate were it to be served in a restaurant. But why would it? Who the hell makes Filet Mignon casserole?
Additionally, she looks so beautiful and peaceful when she is sleeping. Right up until the point where I get into bed. At that juncture, she begins pummeling me mercilessly. While she is sleeping (or so she claims) she actually leans up and forward to get a better angle as she rains blows down upon me. She claims that she has no memory of doing such. That it was all in her sleep.
Again, I'm not buying it.
None of this matters much, because I love the hell out of my wife.
At least that is what I keep reminding myself as I eat the most expensive casserole ever made and endure numerous beatings whilst attempting to sleep.