That’s what Margie and I share, obviously, based on the goings-on at Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About. A few choice items:
Margret doesn’t like to watch films on the TV. No, hold on – let me make sure you’ve got the inflection here: Margret doesn’t like to watch films on the TV. She says she does, but years of bitter experience have proven that what she actually wants is to sit by me while I narrate the entire bleeding film to her. ‘Who’s she?’, ‘Why did he get shot?’, ‘I thought that one was on their side?’, ‘Is that a bomb’ – ‘JUST WATCH IT! IN THE NAME OF GOD, JUST WATCH IT!’ The hellish mirror-image of this is when she furnishes me, deaf to my pleading, with her commentary. Chair-clawing suspense being assaulted mercilessly from behind by such interjections as, ‘Hey! Look! They’re the cushions we’ve got.’, ‘Isn’t she the one who does that tampon advert?’ and, on one famous occasion, ‘Oh, I’ve seen this – he gets killed at the end.’
See if you can spot the difference between these two statements:
(a) “Those trousers make your backside look fat.”
(b) “You’re a repellently obese old hag upon whom I am compelled to heap insults and derision – depressingly far removed from the, ‘stupid, squeaky, pocket-sized English women,’ who make up my vast catalogue of former lovers and to whom I might as well return right now as I hate everything about you.”
Maybe the acoustics were really bad in the dining room, or something.
She keeps making me carry tampons around – ‘Here, have these, just in case.’
‘Oooooooh, why can’t you carry them?’
‘I’ve got no pockets.’
Then, of course, I forget about them. And the next time I’m meeting The Duchess of Kent or someone I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket and shower feminine hygiene products everywhere.
Priceless.
(via Doyce)
I haven’t read any of Doyce’s stuff before. I am struck by two points:
There is such a thing as a funny Englishman! I wouldn’t have thought it possible.
While I, at times, question my decision to henceforth eschew all feminine companionship (in favor of that of books, comics, and computer games), posts like his greatly reinforce my sometimes-wavering conviction that hermitage is, in fact, the safest path to tranquility and contentment.
Well, Doyce isn’t the guy who wrote the above — just the guy who I got the URL to the above from.
But, yes, “Mil” is inded a funny Englishman. I don’t think he’s alone in that, but to each his own.
As to the hermitage … well, tranquility, perhaps. But I find great contentment (and more) in my own feminine companionship.
“Dude…
Is that a Tampax in your Pocket, or are you just glad to see us?”
*giggle snort*