Thread: Go Away!

The latest installment from David Thorne had me in stitches this morning.

There's another thread about his other article here somewhere but I couldn't find it sorry.

Here are a few of my favorites from the latest. They are all about arguments with his wife Holly.

Full story here: "That's not arguing, that's just you being a dickhead."

Nacho Soup

Holly cannot cook. She is capable of the process of cooking, but Holly cannot cook in the same way that an octopus cannot ride a bike; it has enough arms to reach the pedals and handlebars but the result will rarely be a successful journey from A to B. I once looked over Holly's shoulder to discover her crumbling Alka-Seltzer tablets into a meal she was preparing because "they are salty and we ran out of salt."

Saturday evening, Holly stated that she was making nachos for dinner so I was surprised to be presented with a bowl and spoon an hour later. "What's this? I asked.

"The nachos were a bit runny so I added a few cups of water. It's nacho soup," she replied.

"Is there even such a thing?" I asked. "And what are these bits in it?"

"They're the chips," Holly replied defensively as she sipped a spoon of Nachos and made a long "mmmmmm" noise. "I put it all in the blender so there shouldn't be any big bits."

"I'm ringing for pizza," I said.

"Typical," replied Holly, "you never appreciate anything I do."

"That's not true" I responded, "I appreciate everything you do but if I ordered a hamburger at McDonald's and they handed it to me in a cup with a straw saying 'Sorry, it was a bit runny so we threw it in the blender and added two cups of water, it's Big Mac soup', I would assume the restaurant was entirely staffed through some kind of special needs employment initiative. If they asked me, "Do you want fries with that?" I sure as fuck wouldn't reply, 'Yes, mix them in.'"

"It would probably be quite good," responded Holly, "but you would never know because you are too much of an asshole to taste it. Even if the guy at McDonalds spent an hour in the kitchen making it for you and burnt his thumb on a saucepan."

"Fine," I relented, taking a scoop and raising it to my mouth, "I'll taste it." Sipping at the brown and yellow puree, I felt an intense burning sensation not unlike having a mouth full of red ants. I swallowed with effort as my eyes began to water and said, "It's a bit spicy."

"Yes," said Holly, "We were out of Cumin so I used Curry instead. It's like an Indian version of Nacho soup."

Vanna White

When I wake up before Holly, usually to let the dog out so it doesn't take a dump on the kitchen floor, I make her a coffee and take it to her in bed whispering, "Time to wake up, you have to get ready for work," or "Time to wake up, the dog took a dump on the kitchen floor and it isn't going to clean itself up."

On one occasion, I whispered, "The police are here. If they ask, I was home last night and you don't know anything about Mr O'Brian's cows."

Sunday morning, Holly woke me up by punching me in the neck.

Thinking that someone was attacking me, perhaps a burglar or an evil doll that had come to life, I rolled away from the blow and out of bed yelling, "What? What's happening?"

Holly, staring at me from in bed, said, "I had a dream you had sex with Vanna White."

Groggy and still puzzled as to what was happening, I asked, "Who the fuck is Vanna White?"

"She's the lady that turns the letters around on Wheel of Fortune," Holly replied, "I dreamt you were having an affair with her and I came home and she was wearing my clothes."

"What the fuck?" I asked, "She's in her eighties."

"So if it had been someone younger that would be ok would it?" Holly demanded.

"No," I replied as I dressed, "but if I am going to get punched in the neck because you have a dream about me having an affair, I would rather it be with someone born after the Civil War."

"Like Kate Beckinsale? You love her don't you," Holly accused.

"What?" I responded, "I've never even met her."

"Yes, well," continued Holly, "You've never met Vanna White either and that didn't stop you."

Making my way out of the bedroom as quickly as possible, I walked downstairs to make a much-needed cup of coffee and discovered the dog had taken a dump on the kitchen floor.

Shaving Cream

Our shower cubicle contains around three hundred items. Two of these items, a can of shaving cream and a razor, are mine. The other items are bottles and tubes of various shape, colour and size containing moisturisers, gels, scrubs, masks, body wash, face wash, and things with mysterious names such as Pro-X. Even though the shower cubicle is fairly large, there is actually only about one square foot of space in which to stand and spin.

While I was shaving in the shower Wednesday morning, Holly walked into the bathroom and stared at me with a shocked look on her face.

"What?" I asked.

"Just how much shaving cream do you use?" She demanded, "I could hear the 'pshhhhhhhhhh' noise going on for about ten seconds. Even people with normal sized heads don't use that much."

^Google Louis CK if you want a good laugh about being married...

I think I live with Holly. Loony tunes for sure. Nacho soup huh? I had corn and green bean soup last night. Terrible combo, but sucked it up for the good of mankind.
Good read, thanks.

To answer Withnails question via repo:

Nah he's an Auzzie not a yank.

He became well known in OZ after trying to pay an outstanding bill with a drawing of a spider.

Next time, I'll spend the money on drugs instead.