I have the greatest wife in the world. She’s beautiful, smart, down to Earth, hilarious, a lover of animals, an awesome (and I mean awesome) cook, and, in the most endearing of ways, the absolute worst speller I have ever encountered. Thankfully, most of the time she also thinks I’m pretty special too. Affection, however, gets stretched wafer-thin when any of the following come into play:
For some reason, my construction-zone orange Air Zoom Ashikos bug the f*** out of her. Despite my best efforts to convince her that these are not only the best hiking boots I’ve ever had (it’s all about the Flywire), but would also totally come in handy in the event I needed to be spotted by search planes, her irritation with these is legendary.
Just because I like friendly looking (Some have eyes, some have feet!), ergonomic IKEA plasticware does not make me a mental defective. In fact, considering its similarity in shape to those cool utensils Dave Bowman and Frank Poole were using aboard the U.S.S. Discovery, I think it’s a stroke of genius. Despite this, I’m pretty sure these forks, knives and spoons are disappearing one at a time.
Extra gloomy music drives her up the wall. Unfortunately, I own a lot of it. I fully expect to find my record collection on the curb any day now. I do, however, declare a small victory in that, at one time, her record collection actually included an album by The Cure. Albeit, it was the lackluster – and uncharacteristically upbeat (for The Cure anyway) – Wild Mood Swings.
Stacks of stuff, I’ve found, are a universal flash point for all women and the Mrs. is no exception. All I have to say is, at least stacks of books, magazines, compacts discs, etc. give the impression of order, even if upon closer inspection there seems to be no identifiable purpose behind them (other than their owner is too lazy to constructively file them away).
Star Trek (even I will concede there’s no explanation needed here)
Oasis (see entry for Star Trek above)
Personally, The Cupcake has always been leery of members of the opposite sex that like football. That is not, however, an endorsement of the wife’s hatred for football. She displays a clear anger toward the sport. It reminds me of the reaction Bruce Banner might have to getting kicked in the balls. Put it this way, if you want to get together for a game sometime, I’ll need to meet you at the bar around the corner.
Want to vault to #1 on Mrs. Cupcake’s Hit List? Try leaving the pizza tray you use at 1 AM in the oven for her to find the next day. I recommend omitting the part that you were watching old Stefan Edberg matches on YouTube when the pizza bug struck you.
Part II coming soon…
The Smoking Cupcake, January 2011