I Do Already

He Said:  When it comes to detecting odors, my wife is a freak of nature. She has an amazing olfactory system. A humming bird can fart in the lanai, and two seconds later she’ll look at me and say, “Was that you”?

She Said: It is some cruel joke that I have the better sense of smell and you’re the one who usually stinks.

He Said:  More incredible than her keen gift of detecting all that is malodorous is the specificity for which she defines that offending aroma.  “This drawer smells like a rubber band that was around broccoli too long and went bad.”  “This smoothie smells like strawberries that were kept next to garlic…  I also detect a soupcon of cardamom.” 

She Said:  Hey, if my pillowcase smells like our cleaner’s cologne mixed with caramel and BO, I’m going to mention it.

He Said:  I know you’re going to mention it.  You always mention.  I doubt there has ever been a time when you thought, “this closet has a smell of pickles and baby powder” and then just sprayed it with Febreze® without ever saying a word.

(SOURCE: http://weknowmemes.com/2011/11/febreze-all-the-things)

She Said:  I love Febreze!  I sometimes think of spraying you with it while you sleep.

He Said:  And this is why we came up with a bet.  If my wife could go ONE DAY without saying something stinks, I’d give her $100.  My winnings if she blew it, well let’s just say she’d have to “blow it”.

She Said:  Why is your bet always oral sex?  It’s not like I never do it on my own.  There are times I want something from you.

He Said:  Get to the bet!

She Said:  Yes, the bet.  I started off well.  I woke up, the bedroom stunk like a post-orgy circus tent, yet I said nothing.  At my desk, it smelled like bad hotel shampoo that an angry child had peed in.  Still, I kept my mouth shut.

He Said:  I was getting worried.  It was only a few more hours until bedtime.  Maybe she’d be able to do this thing.  I wondered if I farted in bed during The Daily Show and she talked, would that count?  Then I got lucky.

She Said:  I still believe he set me up.  For dinner he made a wonderful fish dish with a side of… green beans.  They took up half the plate.

He Said:   According to Men’s Health, vegetables are supposed to take up half the plate.  And they were green beans sauteed in sesame oil, sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds!

She Said:  Whatever.  After dinner, while you decided to watch hockey and scream at the referees, I retired to the bedroom.  I should have retired to an open, outdoor tent with fans blowing and oxygen masks because I did some major damage.  However, I thought I might get away with the fort fart I’d built, undetected.

He Said:  It was between periods so I decided to check in on my beautiful bride.

She Said:  I could hear him clomping toward me.  “Don’t come in here!!  It smells like  Death held in a fart for all of Time and just let loose.”

He Said:  I entered the room.  Our eyes met.  Well, I assume they met.  Mine were watering too much to really tell.

She Said:  And I knew I had lost our bet.  Done in by my own stench.

He Said:  I haven’t claimed my “prize” yet, but I’m going to shower before bed because the last thing I need to hear is, “You smell like vanilla extract and Clearasil.”

She Said:  I wouldn’t worry.  When it comes to that, you only smell of one thing.  Desperation.

(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)

(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.

He said:  My wife is sick and has been so for five days.  I know scientific studies show that women are better with pain than men, but I’m proud to say that in our household, we will not be pigeon-holed into such stereotypes.  When my wife is sick, nobody is sicker.

She said: And when I’m sick, nobody is more unsympathetic than you.

He said:  Not true.  I make you chicken soup and green tea, I go to the drug store, I nicely ask you to keep your phlegm-filled coughing jags down during 24.  It’s just that I haven’t ever really been sick in the last 30 years.  So, it’s hard for me to know how to react.  Yeah, I get colds and the occasional sore throat, but nothing that’s kept me from missing work.  Well, work that I liked.  I put on my best sick voice a few times when I used to sell shoes.

She said:  Why is it a source of pride to know you willfully infected innocent people when you could’ve been home in bed watching Spongebob?  Like an infected monkey in a bad 90s movie, you cut a swath through the hard working and healthy, beating your virus-laden chest and hollering that a few sniffles can’t keep a good primate down.  Well you should be down -  lying down!  Getting sick is your body’s way of telling you, you need to stop.

He said:  I thought that was death.  Anyway, it’s not that I think I’m this super human guy.  I just think that being sick shouldn’t prevent you from doing things you don’t want to anyway.

She said:  Oh this oughta be good.  Explain.

He said:  If you claim that you’re too sick to clean the house, write your next script, or make sweet love using Vicks VapoRub as sensual massage oil, then you better be too sick to race to the computer when you learn Sephora’s got a 15% off sale.

She said:  The only thing I’ll apologize for, sickness-wise, is my appearance.  I feel bad you have to share the house with someone who, when she is vertical, is wearing a huge terry cloth robe, an old sundress with the elastic shot, or pink sweat pants that would fit a woman 11 times my size.  It’s not fair, I’ll admit, that the man preparing my hot water bottle has to face someone whose hair is styled only with its own grease.  But let’s make a deal: you let me be sick the way I want, and when that unicorn-filled day comes that you’re bed-ridden, I’ll let you be sick anyway you want.

He said:  Sounds like a plan.  Although I’m telling you now, you’re going to be applying Vicks VapoRub with a spatula.

She said:  Great, that image just put me back to bed.

He said:  Four years ago, I stood in front of a roomful of people and married my wife.  It was one of the happiest days of my life.  It was also the last party I ever threw where I got laid at the end of the night.

She said:  You had sex that night?  Was it with somebody I know?

He said:  The whole day was amazing.  At first, I wanted to keep it cheap and not invite too many people.  My wife argued that you can’t put a price on friendship, but I maintained that at $150.00 a plate, you can get a rough estimate.  Still, I’m glad we went for it.  As many people as possible deserved to see you walking down the aisle.

She said:  I was pretty certain our life would be that beautiful forever and ever, amen.  I realize that makes me sound like a girl in a Taylor Swift song, but I’m being honest.  I’d heard all the jokes, I knew the cliches, but I figured they didn’t and wouldn’t apply to us.  We were different and would inhabit some rarefied world of perpetual romantic and erotic bliss.

He said:  Instead, we mock each other’s taste in TV and make fart jokes.

She said:  I don’t so much mock your choices as the way you watch TV:  “Hey ref, are you insane?!  HOLDING!  ARRRRRRRGHHHHH!”  And that’s during the national anthem.

He said:  But I’d argue that the two - love and butt burps - aren’t mutually exclusive.

She said:   I guess the crazy bliss can coincide with the immature jokes.  And sometimes there’s nothing sexier than a partner who makes immature jokes…

He said: Would that mean Brad Pitt saying “pull my finger” is every woman’s fantasy?

She said:  No.  Still, I’m thrilled that this video went viral on our anniversary.  It was almost a sign, perhaps of the Apocalypse, but a sign nonetheless.  It’s selling a blanket to counteract weapons-grade flatulence in the marital bed.  Actually, it’s promoting it as a wedding or anniversary gift.

He said:  What year is “activated carbon fabric?”

She said:  I love that something used in the military is offered as a way to save your marriage… which may not be that stable if a few errant toots can threaten to end it.

He said: There’s also one fatal flaw to this fart tarp trap, at least for us: you hog the blankets.  On most nights, there’d be no carbon sheet to muffle my chemical fumes - just a naked, chattering me, farting unfiltered into the night.  And if you can wake up and still want to cuddle that, then I guess blanket or not, we’re gonna make it after all.

She said:  You’re picturing me throwing my hat into the air, aren’t you?