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The other day, The Lawyer and I were watching Jersey Girl.
(What? Jersey Girl was a GOOD MOVIE. Why did everyone hate on that movie so hard? On that note, why does everyone hate on Ben Affleck so hard? HE CO-WROTE GOOD WILL HUNTING, DAMN IT. AND KEVIN SMITH LIKES HIM, SO YOU SHOULD, TOO.)
Sorry, I’ll stop yelling now.
Anyhooter, we were watching the part where B. Aff’s character, Ollie, and his fatass pregnant wife Gertrude (played by J.Lo) are getting ready for an important something-or-other for Ollie’s job. Ollie is trying to get the two of them out the door in a timely manner and Gertie is just not having that shit. No ma’am. She’s pregnant. She’s enormous. She can’t poop. She has a motherfucking PERSON practicing kickboxing in her uterus. She wants. To. Cry. And do anything but leave the house, but she has to support her husband.
Ollie consoles her, while gently reminding her that they need to go. Like, now. Gertie, through tears, complies and says, “Just one more minute,” and runs to the bathroom to fix her makeup.
It’s at this moment that Ollie does that thing that, apparently, all men do behind their girlfriends’/wives’/hos’/boyfriends’/trannys’ backs: the “boyfriend cringe,” as Lawyerman called it. They do some kind of thing with their clenched fists in the air while looking extraordinarily annoyed. The kind of thing one reserves for times of great disdain. Sadly, I can’t illustrate this because, apparently, Googling “Jersey Girl movie boyfriend cringe gif” does not yield desirable results for this blog post.
Who knew?
But you know what I’m talking about, anyway.
Since The Lawyer mentioned it, I asked.
“Do you do that behind my back often?”
“Define . . . often . . .”
I thought about all the times in which I could have annoyed The Lawyer to the point of gesturing violently and wanting to silently throttle me as I slept.
“Once a week?”
“Well, if once a week is often, then yeah. Pretty often.”
-Record scratch-
“Wait, WHAT?”
I couldn’t imagine that I could ever be that annoying. Surely, I’m not! I thought. He annoys me way, way more than I annoy him! He’s perpetually annoying!!! HOW DARE HE!!!!
“What do I do that’s so annoying?” I implored.
“Well, I can’t really think of anything in particular right now.”
WRONG ANSWER.
Dudes. Don’t tell us we annoy you often and then not be able to back it up with examples. That’s just bad form.
Finally, after much prodding from yours truly, he came up with ONE thing he could think of that annoyed him on the reg.
You know those salt and pepper grinders you buy from the grocery sto’ . . . the ones that have lids on them . . . kinda like this?
The Lawyer and I use these to season our food. When we cook dinner at home, I usually serve myself first because 1) WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST, BITCHES, AND I’M BOTH and 2) I’m always hawngriest because I heart food and NOMNOMNOM and 3) he is extremely slow in putting his food on the damned plate already.
So what annoys Lawyerman about LRC?
It annoys him that I leave the lids off the salt and pepper grinders.
I LEAVE.
THE LIDS OFF.
FOR HIM.
SO HE CAN USE THEM.
ON HIS FOOD.
WITHOUT BEING BOTHERED TO TAKE THE CAP OFF AGAIN.
I can’t think of a more ridiculous thing to be annoyed by.
And now, you ask, what annoys ME about The Lawyer?
He corrects me. On everything. Even when he’s wrong.
Except I do the cringe/arms flailing/IMMA MURDER YO ASS face right in front of him, instead of behind his back.
Because I want him to be prepared for the middle-of-the-night throttling.
So tell me, bloglings (no, really, tell me. I’m curious). What is it that your current or former significant other does/did that makes/made you go ABSOLUTELY INSANE?
What do/did you do to a current/former significant other that causes/caused grave annoyance?
Does everybody know what time it is?
TOOL TIME!
No, damn it. Get out of my blog, Tim Allen. And put down the coke straw.
It’s . . . TMI Thursday!
Okay, let’s get right down to business.
So once I was dating this guy. At this time, we’d been dating for about a month and had yet to do the nasty. I really liked him and I hoped that inviting him to a party and getting him drunk enough would result in a little after-party sexytime.
I’m such a man sometimes.
Except when I cry at my desk. Like this morning.
But I digress.
ANYWAY. So we went to this party and proceeded to get sloppy, nasty drunk. After becoming sufficiently wasted, we stole some cookies from the snack table (this was a Grown Up Party with actual food in place of a drug buffet a la college parties).
What, your college parties didn’t have drug buffets?
Loser.
So my man friend and I left the party with our stolen cookies, went back to his house, and began sucking face.
It’s finally going to happen! I thought.
Oh yes. It did happen. I’d gotten him drunk enough to slip me the tubesteak.
However . . . apparently, it had been a while since he’d had sex, considering the fact that he lasted all of about, oh, three minutes.
Yeah. Lame.
So we started doing Other Stuff.
The details are fuzzy at this point considering we were both tanked, but I do remember this. At one point, he shot his swimmers all over my back.
And instead of going to get a towel? Like a NORMAL person would do?
He proceded to rub his semen into my back. Like lotion.
Vigorously.
My mouth was agape in horror. But I was too drunk (and too enamored with this dude) to say anything. I just waited until he was finished and we got back down to business.
Is this, like normal? Do other people do this? Because it sure as shit weirded me the fuck out.
So I guess I just had a nice cum lotion layer on my back all night. Awesome.
Maybe he was trying to give me a sensual semen massage?
(Doubtful.)
And what was even weirder? The next morning, when he requested morning head (which I graciously gave, because, again, enamored with the kid), he pulled my head out from under the covers when he was about to come . . .
and then he came all over himself . . .
and never cleaned it up. He put his clothes on and went about his day.
Maybe he had some kind of weird evaporating semen?
I don’t know. But I never quite figured it out.
My guess is, he was just gross as fuck.
I sure know how to pick winners!
Guys like sports.
I get that.
Some of you, though? Just baffle the shit out of me with your shenanigans.
The Lawyer, for instance.
The Lawyer is a University of Florida alum. He eats, sleeps, breathes, and shits Florida athletics. He’s one of those guys.
This year, Florida’s softball team is the #1 seed in the Women’s College World Series. Since regular season games aren’t televised, the WCWS is The Lawyer’s only chance to see them in action.
During a UF vs. Alabama game on Sunday, we were starting to give up hope on the Gators. They were down by 3, and the end of the game was drawing near. If they lost, they’d have to play another game later that night. Neither of us wanted that to happen.
When the game ran long, it switched over to ESPN 2. When The Lawyer changed the channel, his piece of shit TV just decided it was going to turn itself off.
After much swearing and hat-throwing, The Lawyer got an idea. He retrieved a smaller, even shittier TV from storage, and set it up next to the other TV. There was peace in the forest again.
Until, that is, THAT TV started fucking up.
Oh yes. The picture would come and go. Audio stayed the same but let’s face it. You don’t want to listen to the game when you could be watching it.
The Lawyer surmised that the TV’s were becoming overheated. So he went into his bedroom and grabbed his fan. He plugged the fan up behind the smaller TV and put it directly next to the TV’s vent.
“You’re a freaking nut,” I said.
“Oh no. I’m not done.”
He grabbed his tool bag and pulled out one of those hand saws (sorta like this one), and began SAWING THE BACK OF THE TV OFF.
Behold:
The Lawyer's handiwork, taken with my camera phone.
Now that, my friends, is the dedication of a sports freak. The Lawyer sawed his TV up to watch ONE INNING of a WOMEN’S SOFTBALL GAME.
His efforts paid off when the TV started working again just in time to see the Gators’ first baseman hit a walkoff grand slam in the bottom of the 7th.
I think it’s all a result of The Lawyer’s devotion.
—
In other news, The Lawyer and I are “official” now. My first real boyfriend since the breakup with Murray, almost a year to the day later! Of course, he saws up TV’s, but other than that? Completely normal.
Riiiiiight. Who am I kidding? Like I could ever date anyone “normal.”
