I Do Already

(SOURCE: http://www.ratestogo.com/blog/heart-attack-grill/)

She Sees:  Multi-layered lard.

He Sees:  What I wish our wedding cake would’ve been.

(SOURCE: www.aetv.com/)

He Sees:  STORAGE WARS!!  A brilliantly crafted reality series about a group of modern day treasure hunters searching for the dream find.

She Sees:  Some show starring Tanning Mom’s friends and relatives that seems to play on continuous loop in our home.

(SOURCE: www.eonline.com)

She Sees:  Further proof, to quote Liz Lemon, of “Channing Tatum’s meteoric rise” and what’ll probably be my next Girls Night Out.  Unless I see it alone and get dragged out of the theater for a Pee Wee Herman misdemeanor…

He Sees:  A sad display of reverse sexism that no thinking woman would be caught dead at.

(SOURCE: http://icafewomanmoderne.blogspot.com)

He Sees:  Interesting use of light and shadow to create a sweet photo of some Chinese kid.

She Sees:  A baby I’d risk going to prison for to kidnap. 

(SOURCE: http://www.eatmedaily.com/)

He Sees:  A source for valuable tips on how you could be a better homemaker.

She Sees:  A book of spells written by a convicted criminal.

Yay!  It’s the same couple from “Knocked Up”.  This looks great…

He Said: You know, I always saw myself as a “Paul Rudd” type.

She Said: Yeah, in “Our Idiot Brother”.

She Said:  I love Ramona Quimby.  I love her short, choppy hair, her little legs that stomp through the house or pedal furiously on her trike, and her impulsive (sometimes obnoxious) behavior.  I love that she had a doll named Bendix and that she thought that was “the most beautiful name in the world.”  She also had a doll named Chevrolet because she thought that was “the most beautiful name in the world”, but whatever, two different books (Ramona and Beezus; Ramona the Pest).  I remember feeling horrible for Bendix when Ramona burned her in the oven.  She was just playing Hansel & Gretel, and when the whole house started to smell of melting rubber, she calmly asked, “Is the witch done yet?”

He Said:  Hey, that’s what I say when you’re getting ready to go out!

(He Said: That’s you, in the picture, while everyone else is working)

She Said:  Anyway, Ramona ruined her sister’s birthday cake and nearly burned the kitchen down.  I thought of that the other day after I played my own game of Hansel & Gretel.

He Said:  If you think of meals as fairy tale villains you have to burn in the confines of our home, that may be why cooking is a turn off…

She Said:  You interrupting is a turn off.  So, we get this rice sometimes that just comes frozen in a plastic bag.  Since my cooking generally involves scissors more than a knife, this is my kind of product.  You snip off a corner, microwave it for 3 minutes, then plop it in a bowl and eat it.  

He Said:  I bought a different kind of rice last week.  Different brand, different style, different package.  You glanced at the directions, saw the word microwave (ignored the whole bit about putting it in a microwave safe dish) and nuked it up the same way.

She Said:  At about the two-minute mark, a curious smell engulfed the kitchen… and rest of the house.  A burning, melting, metallic smell.  Since I was all excited for my magical bowl of rice, this stench made no sense.

He Said:  Much like microwaving a plastic container LINED WITH METAL FOIL also makes no sense.

She Said:  Since this is not the first time this has happened, it proves why it’s better to put me on table-setting and after-dinner cleaning duty.  I’m not lazy, I’m just a danger to health and home.  Now let’s go get some In ‘n Out!

(RAMONA ILLUSTRATIONS BY LOUIS DARLING)

(SOURCE: http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/family/marriage)

Why don’t we say what we mean?

Wouldn’t it be simpler?

Well…

Let’s see…

He Said:  You should wear your hair in a ponytail. TRANSLATION:  I saw a hot chick at the gym with a ponytail.

He Said:  Do you want any of this leftover pizza?  TRANSLATION:  I already ate it.

He Said:  How much longer before you’re ready?  I’m hungry.  TRANSLATION: We’re going to the same sushi place we go to almost every Friday.  Nobody there gives a shit how your eye makeup looks.  Well, maybe put your hair in a ponytail.

He Said:  Uhm… you may not want to go in the bathroom right now. TRANSLATION:   We have to burn the house down and rebuild.

He Said: I love you more than love even knows.  TRANSLATION: Can I get sex?

She Said:  Did you see Ashton Kutcher on the cover of Men’s Health?  I mean, massive cheating loser, obviously!  But he talks about his workout routine.  TRANSLATION:  Please look like him. 

She Said:  Oh, wow, a whole marathon of Storage Wars.  TRANSLATION:  You watch a show about lockers, you don’t get to mock me for watching The Bachelor.

She Said:  She’s cute.  Weird hair, though.  TRANSLATION:  Stop ogling that weird haired chick.

She Said:  Who’s winning?  TRANSLATION:  I couldn’t care less who’s playing, just tell me when the game’s over.

She Said:  Do you notice a weird smell?  TRANSLATION:  Your toxic work-out clothes are creating an in-home Abu Ghraib. 

So, yeah.  Maybe honesty isn’t always the best policy.

(SOURCE: reddit.com)

He Said:  That’s you whenever we have somewhere to go.  Not because you’ll be hanging with me, but because you know somewhere during the trip, we’ll stop at a Starbucks.

She Said:  Did you say Starbucks?  Can we go to Starbucks?  Let’s go to Starbucks!!

He Said:  I hate Starbucks.  Not the ground of the coffee or the corporate monster they’ve become, but the fact my wife loves it so much.  Every venture outside the house is just an excuse to go to Starbucks.  If we happen to buy a new couch that day, that’s a fluke and a bonus.

She Said:  What could you have against me drinking a rich, aromatic cup of coffee?

He Said:  Because it’s a huge ass-pain.  It seems like there’s a billion of them, but whenever you want one, there’s never one available.  I’m doing U-turns on highways, waiting in emergency areas with no parking, then bargaining with hobos and screen writers for a seat, just so you can have your giant Vesuvius.

She Said:  It’s Venti, but whatever. I thought you’d want me to be happy while we grocery shopped.

He Said:  NO!  That’s when it’s the worst.  Curse any grocery store that has a Starbucks.  You disappear for your caffeinated monstrosity and return, basically helpless from the waist up.  ME: “Could you grab the brown rice?” YOU: “Slurp, sloop, smack… aaaah.  Can’t… hands…busy… siiiiiiip… <spill, burn, splash, stain, refill>.”

(SOURCE: http://toonclips.com)

She Said:  This is so fake.  I only spill on my robe at home.  I really should’ve bought one in camouflage or at least polka dot so it wouldn’t look like I’d shat myself every time I put it on.

He Said:  Fine.  You spill at home.  But no matter where you are, this is you when you get that first sip:

She Said:  Okay, Heisenberg, but only if it’s a Verona.  Or French Roast.  Or Christmas Blend or Anniversary.  Hey, we going for a car ride??

(SOURCE: horrorthon.blogspot.com)

He Said:  It finally happened.  I was the one sick in bed and not my wife.

She Said:  Why are you so proud that you never get sick?

He Said:  Because diseases are like emotions - things you don’t let other people know you have.

She Said:  Talk about sick… But I’ll confess, I was glad you got sick.  It was my turn to take care of you and I really wanted to.  After all, you always take care of me.

He Said:  What I do is way more than taking care of you.  You’re like that sitcom character who gets sick and gets a bell to summon help - except you enjoy being sick so much, the Act Break reveal is that you’ve been faking it for the last two days!

She Said:  The memory of Laura Ingalls pushing fake-wheelchair-bound Nellie Olsen down a hill is still awesomely vivid. 

He Said:  Anyway, I wasn’t that sick.  I just ate some bad oysters at a buffet.

She Said:  Considering you ate one (to six) of everything, blaming oysters seems a little cliched.

He Said:  Lack of portion control is my dad’s fault.  He taught me that you go into every All-You-Can-Eat with the sole mission that they are not making a dime off you.

She Said:  Tell him it was that game plan that left you tethered to the toilet all of Monday.

He Said:  And instilled in you an insane desire to play nurse - which is way less fun than playing doctor.  But you’re wrong.  It was a virus, so you should’ve steered clear.

She Said:  What’s wrong with wanting to help?

He Said:  I didn’t want help.  I wanted to be left alone, like a bloody, wounded animal slumped against a tree, gnawing on its fibula.  I don’t need some fawn softly mopping my brow, whispering, “Are you okay?  Is everything all right?”  Of course everything isn’t all right! I just shat so loud it startled the neighbors.

(SOURCE: ncsdconnection.com)

She Said: I did way more than whisper questions at you!

He Said:  True.  You also offered me some of your holistic, bullshit remedies.  For the record, I don’t want to try bee pollen pills or snort the hair shaved from the taint of a monkey.  I don’t care what they say it does in Chinatown.

She Said:  The healing powers of simian pubes is vastly underrated.  I wanted to be there for you.  Because I love you, because when you’re sick, I start freaking out about when you might die. 

He Said:  Okay, so, that’s why I let you get me a hot water bottle.

She Said:  And I loved doing it!  Sorry it spilled on your crotch.

He Said:  Didn’t much matter.  At the point, I had hot liquids pouring out of every orifice. 

She Said:  Hey… when you were sick, did it start with a queasy feeling in your stomach that branched out to your butt hole?

He Said:  Oh god… I’ll go get the bell.

STAY TUNED for the Sickly Chronicles of SheSaid… in our NEXT Blog Post! (bring a barf bag)

She Said: This week we are thrilled to announce we have our first GUEST BLOGGERS! 

He Said: Thrilled because not only are they one of our favorite social network couples, but we also get time off from writing this thing.  

Please welcome GARY (He Said) and KAREN PEARSON (She Said)

(IMAGE from: http://www.oprah.com)

He Said:  If my wife really loves me deeply, why is her favourite thing in the whole world whenever I get hurt or injured? It gives her such delight. Peels of laughter. The more it hurts me, the funnier it is to her. 

She Said: Hey, that makes me sound terrible! It’s just that you’re so DRAMATIC when you get hurt. And it’s hilarious.

He Said: Let’s talk about the neti-pot, your cure for any and all sinus and allergy problems I have. It is an ancient device, which I suspect was originally designed for torture but was adapted for ‘medicinal’ purposes. It looks like a little teapot, if you were perhaps making tea for some kind of deformed dwarf.  

She Said: Okay, that wasn’t my fault. The instructions weren’t clear and it was hard to measure the salt because it was just a big rock.

He Said: You’re supposed to dissolve a tiny bit of salt into warm water, put the spout of the pot up to your nostril and pour, letting it irrigate your sinuses as it flows out your other nostril.  My first clue that something was not right; irrigation is for fields of tomatoes, not for the most tender and delicate part of your nasal cavity. 

She Said: Listen, everyone in the pictures looks so happy using them, and Dr. Oz swears by them. How come you’ll listen to him when he says we should be having sex at least 4 times a week, but you won’t heed his nasal irrigation advice?

He Said: If Dr.Oz told me to jump off a cliff, I wouldn’t do it. If he told me to have sex with you 4 times a week, I would. See the difference? One of them has sex, the other has a cliff.

She Said: All I know, is one minute you’re willing to try something new and the next, you’re flailing all over the house like you’re doing some kind of interpretative dance, going on about how you’re going to pass out from the burning sensation.

He Said: Are we talking about sex now, or the neti-pot? Either way, I’m starting to feel kind of vulnerable.

Gary Pearson is a TV comedy writer and showrunner (That’s So Weird) and married to Karen Pearson for 18 years.  Find him on Twitter at twitter.com/captainpearson

Karen Pearson is the showrunner of their household, with 3 kids and a dog with issues.  Mostly it’s a bit of a drama.  When she’s not making wreaths, she can be found on Twitter at twitter.com/kshelbypearson

(Art Work by Paige Pooler: www.paigepooler.com)

She said:  PeopleOfWalmart.com aside, most people care how they look.  Getting naked with your partner, whether it’s a spouse you’ve been with for years, or a new love you’re trying to impress, can be fraught with anxiety.

He said:  The latest copy of Men’s Health magazine boasted the headline “14 Things You Should Never Say to a Naked Woman” so naturally I thought we’d find some blog material there.  But instead of telling you how to zip your mouth to unzip your pants, it gave you things you actually should say to a naked woman.  “You look beautiful.”  “Your stomach is my favorite place to rest my head.” 

Please. 

We thought we’d step in with better bedroom tips for the bare-assed.

I Do Already’s 14 Things You Should Never Say to Your Naked Partner

She said:  Again?  But we just did it last week.

He said:  Let me just check my email first.

She said:  (in your best Barbra Streisand voice)  You JUST roll ovah, and TURN out the LIIIIIIIGHT!

He said:  I tot I taw a puddy-tat!

She said:  Uh, are you gonna get that looked at?

He said:  Y’know, there’s something to be said for leaving a little to the imagination.

She said:  That reminds me, I forgot to record The Biggest Loser.

He said:  I did!  I did taw a puddy-tat! 

She said:  Well, I’m going to seat our guests.  You get dressed and join us when you’re ready.

He said:  Ah-OOH-ga!  (while squeezing breasts, buttocks and/or genitals)

She said:  Forgive me, Father, for I know not what I do.

He said:  Babe, your pantyhose are all wrinkled, aren’t you gonna take them off…?  Oh.

She said:  Actually, I don’t think “they all look like that.”  Some are even.  And don’t hit the knee. (this is bad for either gender, let’s face it)

He said:  Wow, so I did marry your mother.

He said:  I’ve never given a movie the finger before, but my middle digit was raised high and defiant at the screen that showed Valentine’s Day.

She said:  The film with a thousand stars and no light is out on DVD and some of you may be thinking of renting it.  Do not.  We figured as writers, we should know what’s out there and what’s popular, so we went.  You are under no such obligation.

He said:  Someone in your life may try to convince you that this phony, flaccid flick is romantic, but romance shouldn’t smell like a rotten egg wrapped in cabbage stuffed up a skunk’s bum.  You and your partner deserve better. 

She said:  Here are just some of the reasons we found the movie more noxious than Gloria Allred at a stripper’s convention.  I’d say “spoiler alert!” but Valentine’s Day already arrived chock full of decay.

- Jessica Biel and Jamie Foxx go from ignoring each other to being in love in about 42 seconds, all because they trip and fall on a couch at the same time.

- Taylor Lautner shows more range playing a wolfboy in jean cut-offs.

- the only couple with any real chemistry doesn’t get to kiss because they’re gay - one guy pats the other’s hair, but he may just be styling it.

- Shirley Maclaine tells her husband about an affair she had 30 years ago, seemingly to get in a fight and avoid picking up their daughter at the airport… who’s returning from Iraq… for one day.

- Anne Hathaway doesn’t limit her phone sex clients to her cell, so people call her office line and she talks dirty to them at her cubicle.

- Jessica Alba isn’t ready for marriage, especially with the wrong guy - this is deemed such a disgusting character flaw, the movie pairs her up with a dog at the end.

He said: If you want romance and comedy, it seems Judd Apatow’s the only person who’s made anything decent in the last decade.

She said:  But if you’re up for a rip-your-heart-out love story, go to Netflix and check out Roman Holiday, Philadelphia Story, Once, Brokeback Mountain, or a gem among gems, Truly, Madly, Deeply.  (I have to believe JK Rowling remembered this movie when she cast Alan Rickman as Snape.)

He said:  Or you could just watch “erotica” on late night cable.  The characters are more believable, the stories are better, and you don’t feel nearly as dirty after watching it.

She said:  I’ll take single-syllable exclamations for 200, Alex.

He said: This word is your childhood nickname, what rappers call their girlfriends and the sound ghosts make in comic books.

She said:  What is “Boo”?  Also the sound I make when you tell me your theories on ghosts (followed by “Hiss.”)

He said:  That’s because ghosts are a figment of the imagination and I have proof.

She said:  You also claim to have proof that the world’s snakes are personally out to get you, but I’ve yet to see it.

He said:  Don’t mock me about the snakes.  They’re ugly, they can kill you and every one of them hates my guts.

She said:  So ghosts don’t exist because…?

He said:  Ghosts are always dressed, usually in period costumes.  I think ghosts should be naked.

She said:  You think everybody should be naked.

He said:  Listen, why are ghosts always in shawls and evening jackets?   They died, not their clothes.  Their wardrobe doesn’t have a soul, so why is it lingering in the sweet hereafter?  I maintain that a ghost does not need a top hat.  Those creatures should be floating around butt naked.  If ghosts were real, there would be a lot more sightings of spooky pubes.

She said:  That’s a good band name.  So what about all those people - me, for one - who have seen or heard a ghost?  Are we all liars?

He said:  Some of you are.  The rests just have active imaginations.  I find it hilarious that when anything odd occurs in the house, you blame ghosts.  “Oh, my desk chair keeps on lowering on its own - maybe it’s a ghost!”  Yes, it’s the ghost of a midget Staples employee who died when a cargo of chairs toppled on him.  Now he’s doomed to haunt your workspace forever, cruelly lowering your chair.

She said:  Fair enough.  But I’ve had a profound experience involving ghosts.  And at the time, I didn’t jump to conclusions.  I actually assumed it was people I’d heard that night, until they told me the next morning that hadn’t been the case and oh yeah, this place is haunted and there have been multiple sightings, did we forget to tell you that?  So nothing you will ever say will make me believe they didn’t happen.

He said: That’s why I’m better than you on this. 

She said:  “Better than me”?  I admire your skills of persuasion.  Why, you’re almost as convincing as a third grader.

He said:  You refuse to budge on something for which there’s never been any concrete proof.

She said:  I see.  And which one of us has had dreams - ghostly visions, let’s say - during which limbs flail, screams pierce the night sky and menacing whispers beg some spiritual presence to show himself?  Yeah, that’d be you.

He said:  I don’t believe I’m ever going to play for the Calgary Flames or am in the Family Ties reunion episode with Michael J. Fox, but I’ve still had those dreams.  And unlike you, if I ever happen to be haunted for real, say by some hot naked ghost, I will gladly admit I was wrong.  Until then, I’ll firmly believe that you made up that “profound experience” in your head.

She said:  Tell you what - you’re going to have a better chance of seeing a naked ghost tonight than you will seeing a naked wife.