- My pillows need to be encoldened.
- Your sofa makes my bottom itch.
- I need a large bag for my hair.
- Every hotel I have been in on this trip has had bed bugs!
- What is the number for your MILF channel?
- My comfort animal needs a platter of long cut bamboo with the leaves left on.
- I need more lotion.
- Can you send up some hay?
- I will need bleach, a box of gloves, and a mop in the morning.
- How much air is in your room safe?
- Can you send up some more sheets? My sores are leaking.
- Can you send up someone who can keep their mouth shut?
- More Kleenex please.
- I need help removing something.
- The goat’s milk isn’t for me…
- I can’t imagine how it happened but something very important to me just ran into the vents.
- Of course I have a permit.
- I need a newspaper with today’s date on it.
- This is not my first rodeo.
- Well, it’s allowed where I’m from…
- I am a professional taxidermist…
- Are you sure there is no MILF channel?
- If an angry man comes asking for me, I’m not here.
- I make those things for a living. No, I don’t need a license…
- I am an artist!
- Soup. Just soup.
- I may have left something down in the lobby -no, I’ll come down and get it. No, no,..NO DON”T TOUCH IT!
- No, I hear no chickens.
- I am a very important talent agent and those people are my clients.
- If someone claiming to be my wife comes asking for me, I’m not here.
- Your business center’s printer is out of red ink.
- That lady boy is my personal assistant and needs to sauna before she shaves.
- This is so embarassing…
- I need more furniture.
- I have a skin condition and it is very important that I put that on before I swim.
- I have a doctor’s note, so that’s okay.
- Your gym gave me a terrible rash.
- That family that checked in next door -they’re a bunch of liars.
- I would like to talk to your lawyer.
- I may have left something in the hot tub.
- Where else am I going to dispose of my bags?
- Can you send up some duct tape?
- My courtesy bar was empty when I checked in!
- Are those people still down there waiting for me?
- Technically, they are contractors and not my employees per se.
- I have no sense of smell. I was born that way.
- I run a petting zoo.
- Your night clerk is very hostile.
- I’m allergic to some kinds of gluten.
Tag Archives: 40 year old man
The Husband Keeper
One Monday on Facebook,
Me, status update: Working for a living.
My Sister-in-Law, comment: yes but at least you get paid for it.
My Sister-in-Law is an out of work Yale MBA currently staying at home with two small children. They live on the west coast with its inherent expenses.
Me, comment: I’d rather get paid for my thoughts on golf, technology, and the future. Or for thoughtful, heroic roles in important epic feature films. Or for inventing something on the scale of post-it notes. By the way, your work is not gratis.
- Cook- 2000/mo
- Chauffeur -2000/mo
- Nannyx2 2000/mo
- Sugar baby 1500/mo
- Consultant -1000/mo
- Cleaner -1000/mo
- Gardener -1000/mo
- Tutors 2500/mo
- Room/board for all these people 3500/mo
I can go on. This is with no benefits -health or retirement.
My Lovely Wife, J, comment: Do you want a bill?
Me, comment: Yikes!
Sister in Law, comment: kee kee…
Guess now that you’ve convinced me I’ve earned it, I can afford to redecorate, treat myself to those spa treatments, and toss in that Marc Jacobs handbag I’ve been eyeing. I think we may also need to add Psychologist, Nutritionist, Hair Stylist and Health Care Professional to the list…
Me, comment, exeunt: You go girl. It doesn’t apply to J because she employs me.
This exchange made me think, which is the first step into getting into big trouble. Why do do women want to get married and stay married? If you look at the job description, the housewife takes on at least 5 or 6 essential jobs, goes through great deal of risk to have children, and starts having incredible headaches after about five years of marriage.
If the husband was the first domesticated animal (link), the husband-keeper was the first pet owner. Some husbands are useful and clever like the sheep dogs in that Samsung commercial (link). Others are more like those giant dogs people get when they’re small and cute, but are horrified soon to find that the dog eats food bought in fifty pound sacks and lays turds bigger than theirs. They’re messy, they’re high maintenance, and they’re horny.
So what do you do about a problem dog? You “fix it.” And that is what the husband keeper does to the problem husband. The fix involves:
- limiting access to non-family activities with the guys (hunting, fishing, golfing!) that increases testosterone driven pack behavior
- letting them overeat (to make them less appealing to other women and by increasing body fat, increase relative estrogens and brooding behaviors while tamping down on demon testosterone)
- making them drive ungainly automobiles that have the profile of pregnant women (minivans, Priuses, Lexus anything). Through about a million years of monogamy, the original savage brute is transformed into the domesticated house-husband.
Being married, I clearly benefit by not having to employ an army of assistants while getting a leg up on unmarried people with the help of my wife. I am presentable because of my wife. The unattached, middle-aged man has the shelf life of a can of anchovies -more than a few years, but not more than about five to twenty. Being unmarried, unattached, or sadly widowed in your sixties or later is a formula for showing up sallow, unshavened, unpressed, and unwashed -a homeless man. There is good data to show that longevity is associated with marriage. Most guys who run off on their wives and families immediately turn around and get married and start another family -what were they running from?
What benefit does a woman get? Pride in ownership? Someone to kill varmints? I have very little insight into this question. I did kill a mouse in my NY apartment in 2003 -last time I did something tangibly useful for my wife. It is shocking to me that we are nearing our 15th anniversary and I look at my wife and nothing has changed about her and us. And maybe this two-happy-bugs-preserved-in-amber-for-a-billions-years thing is it: it is not one person’s benefit or the other’s, but the sum of the whole. By getting married, we enter a time compression bubble where one year can feel like seven but fifteen can feel like one. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, I am hers and she is mine.
Now about that Porsche.
Among the psychological defense mechanisms, denial is considered among the more dangerous. It’s because the denier is meddling with external reality. Denial is the quiet little sister to her sociopathic older brother, delusion. There are few comforts afforded a family man of forty -the golf eked out in small bits here and there, overeating, and pontificating ad nauseum about himself. If these few shabby activities are over-the-counter remedies for the pain of standing upon the summit of your life and seeing not the road home behind you, but a cold remorseless downhill march to a corpsy slumber in the dark valley below in front of you, then denial is pure opium.
If you are a middle aged man with too much hair where the sun doesn’t shine and not enough where it does -Deny it! Go and buy that Porsche 911 Turbo and a Brazilian (the wax job). If you don’t get spontaneous erections at the drop of a dime (picture your hot high school teacher bending over to pick it up), Deny it! Go get yourself some of those boner pills and get prepared to pester your loved one all weekend. Or if there is no soup there, go book a room in a hotel with wifi and pay for view -some of those pills claim bioactivity for 36 hours so go to town, big boy (what do you think all those towels are for?). Feeling flabby? Suck your gut in. Feeling blue? There’s always bacon, my man.
You are strong, gifted, talented, fleet, accomplished, humorous, witty, charming, humble, handsome, heroic, and just too shiny. You look in the mirror and see Zeus, king of the gods. Flee before me mortals before I strike thee with lightning bolts shooting out of my ass! Kneel befo…what was that honey? Who am I talking to? It’s the people in the computer. Okay, I’ll keep it down…