How Marriage Changes Everything In Your Life

I have several friends who are about to get married or who have been with their significant other for a long period of time, and they talk about how excited they are to get married, to which I always say “DON’T DO IT! IT’S A TRAP!” and they laugh like I’m kidding.

I’m not kidding.

It’s a trap.

Run.

I think they have a different expectation of what the reality is, so I’m going to go over some of the basics.

Cleaning

Expectation: You’ll have help and it will get done twice as fast, or your wife will do all of the cleaning because hey! Women LOVE cleaning!

Reality: You’ll be sitting on the couch in your sweatpants, using your sweatpants as a napkin, hopping from one room to the other, looking for pants under a mountain of garbage. Note, this is not everyone, but I’ve met more people who have had this problem than who haven’t had this problem. Also, dishes won’t do themselves at mom’s house. You have mother fucking chores that you don’t get rewarded from.

Communication.

Expectation: Married couples are always friends with other married couples who talk all the time and never have issues telling each other anything! Communication is no problemo!

Reality: Lack of communication causes a lot of divorces. And to be fair, I forget to tell Alex stuff all the time. We talk all the time. He is probably the chattiest person I have ever met. And I talk a lot. But we both talk non stop for hours and don’t say a fucking thing.

Lovin’, touchin’, squeezin’

Expectation: Humping like gorillas.

Reality: You or your spouse will say “Hey, wanna have some fun?” and you’ll respond with “OR… there’s a new episode of Big Bang Theory tonight.”

So then you stay up all night watching reruns of Big Bang Theory to catch up on the new episode. This will go on for six months and then you both will replace touching with ice cream and not care. Note: This can be any show from Dragon Ball Z, to Deadly Women. When you’re married, you can have sex anytime, but reruns may not always be there.

Money

Expectation: Two incomes means we’re rich bitches!

Reality: Two people means twice the bills. Two cars? Twice the gas! Clothes for two! Eating enough to fill a buffet, the works! While I’m technically better off now that I’m married, I have to look like I’m married. Which fucking sucks. I can’t go grocery shopping in a parka and basketball shorts anymore. People won’t excuse it as “Oh she’s just a poor college kid” because they’ll see that shiny little thing on my finger and think “HER HUSBAND ABUSES HER!”

Which he totally doesn’t. I just hate clothes shopping. And washing clothes. And folding. I’m not my mother who is a wizard with laundry and clothing.

Going to the bar

Expectation: Your husband (or if you’re a guy, you) will buy all of the drinks and it will be amazingly fun!

Reality: Alex refuses to go to the bar with me unless I drag him. With a bunch of friends. To which we are both ignored because we have rings on our fingers. Except in Alaska. Alaska men didn’t care if a woman had a ring because there were no women in Alaska. Getting a free drink now is ridiculously hard. I’ve given up.

Work Functions

Expectation: Since you’re married, everyone will think you’re respectable and kind and will act like mature adults.

Reality: Nothing has changed. Except one of you will always be the DD. If you’ve read my blog from the get go, you’ll realize that my husband is always the designated driver. And I am absolutely humiliating at function. As well as nearly half of the people there, because one will drive, and the other drinks for the couple.

So tell me, anything you want to add to the list? Anything you feel should be rebutted? Every couple is different, I want to hear your thoughts! TELL ME YOUR WEIRD MARRIAGE STORIES!

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Why Being A Housewife Sucks

So my mom pointed out that I cuss far too often for my own good, so every time I want to say the “f” word, I’m going to put “FLUFFY BUNNIES”

So I recently quit my job at the bowling alley due to conflicting interests.  Probably the best decision I ever made, and I’m currently doing stocking at a store where nobody bothers me and I’m left to my own devices.  It’s FLUFFY BUNNIES awesome.

 

So here is my FLUFFY BUNNIES list of why it FLUFFY BUNNIES sucks to be a housewife.

1.You get Filipino Vision

I swear, I’m not racist.  I usually call it “Gina” vision because I worked with a Filipino lady named Gina who would always clean.  This woman’s house was so clean, you could eat off her floors.  She would work for eight hours then go home and clean for another eight.  She once canceled a vacation to Denali National Park so she could clean her house.  When I called her once, she said she was cleaning and I even said “What the FLUFFY BUNNIES are you cleaning?” and she would say, in a dark, hissing voice, “Everything is dirty.”

I always imagined Gollum from lord of the rings when she said that.  “Must clean the precious house… SO DIRTYYYY”

2.  You go out of your way to make elaborate food only to be afraid to eat it

This probably makes absolutely no sense to those who are not conscious of your weight.  I’m a chubby girl.  I refuse to go up another pant size.  Last time I went up a pant size, I found out in a fitting room and Alex had to hug me while I cried in the fitting room.  So I’ve been cautious when cooking tasty foods because I know that if it’s delicious, I will devour every single FLUFFY BUNNIES bite.  Chocolate never lasts more than an hour at my house.  I can’t buy chocolate or I eat all of it.  But lately, I’ve been making bread.  And while I’m not a bread person, it’s impossible to resist fresh bread out of the oven.

3.  The cleaning never ends

Maybe I’m a horribly sloppy person, maybe I have a haunted house, I don’t know.  I’m pretty sure that my dogs grow hands when we sleep and destroy everything in the house and I’m too forgetful to notice.  I spent three hours straight cleaning today, and I can already tell I’ll be spending at least another three FLUFFY BUNNIES hours cleaning the house.

4.  You never stop brushing the dog

My poor dogs.  I’ve been brushing them everyday so there isn’t fur on everything.  The bitches clogged my FLUFFY BUNNIES vacuum.

Alright, no more fucking FLUFFY BUNNIES.  I’m done with it.

5.  You’re bored out of your mind.

Seriously, how did fifties housewives do this?  I’ve been doing this for two weeks and I’m about ready to stab Alex with a rusty spoon.  I’ve been told that kids help, but I’m not getting knocked up so I’m not bored anymore.  I’m working on getting a new job that’s full time, and I’m a full time student, and I do this, but fucking seriously, I sleep all the time to pass the time.

I can’t think of anything else, but if anyone can come up with anything else, please share.  WHY WOULD BEING A HOUSEWIFE SUCK DONKEY BALLS?!

Thanks y’all.

How a Murderous Cockroach Turned Me Into A Good Housekeeper

So when I first moved to Louisiana, my house lacked all forms of furniture.  At our house for the first few weeks, we had a full size mattress on the floor, a broom, a floor shark mop thing, and a dining room table we got at an AWESOME consignment store in Shreveport.  So, to say the least, we didn’t have anything.  Along with this, my husband was given two weeks after we got here to figure his stuff out, I didn’t start work until three weeks after getting here, so we spent a lot of time just sitting around our house, not having anything really to do.

This is bad when you’re getting familiar with a new area.

Not only do you learn a lot of new things about your spouse because you’ve never had this much time with him, but also, you get to see all the creepy little things in your house.

Please keep in mind, I am from Minnesota originally and spent my entire adult life in Alaska where there are no types of bugs except mosquitos and silverfish, all of which are harmless.  I had heard that the south had cockroaches, but I thought cockroaches were only about a quarter of an inch long.  Oh, how wrong I was.

One day, when I was bored out of my mind, I decided to sweep up all the dog fur that my dogs felt they needed to shed once getting to 100+ degree weather, when I sweep under my kitchen sink and I am greeted by a giant (two inch long) cockroach.

I couldn't find a picture to justify the cockroach, so thank you Hyperbole and a half for giving me the idea of using MS Paint

I couldn’t find a picture to justify the cockroach, so thank you Hyperbole and a half for giving me the idea of using MS Paint

When I swept it out from under the sink, it hissed at me.  Then it skittered around a little bit and stopped moving…. But I could hear that fucker breathing.

Being a naïve northern girl, I did not see it like this.

I had my ass on the kitchen door, counters on either side of me, so when I swept this cockroach from under the kitchen sink, I was cornered with nowhere to go since I didn’t have enough room to open the kitchen door to go around the house and go inside via the front door.  I was barefoot so I couldn’t squash the damn thing, and since I’m a fat girl, I can’t jump over it.

So I did the most logical thing that came to mind.

I screamed.

I kept screaming.

I seriously did not stop screaming.  Oh, and I started crying too because I HATE roaches.  My husband, the poor man, was in the middle of a very peaceful nap.  When he heard my screaming and crying, he thought I was being attacked, so he quickly rushed out onto the tile, sliding the entire way, seeing me crying and screaming in the kitchen, while he was still in his underwear.

“What’s wrong?!” he yelled, looking around for a rapist*

Being too struck with fear to even speak, I shakily pointed at the roach on the floor.

He gives me a very disconcerting look.  One eyebrow raised, the other lowered, dropping the rigidness of his posture.  “Are you fucking serious right now?”

I shook my head vigorously, unable to say another word, afraid that the hissing monster was going to eat me or worse.

I don't think the roach was actually holding a knife, but who knows, better not chance it

I don’t think the roach was actually holding a knife, but who knows, better not chance it

He went over into the living room, grabbed my shoe, came back into the kitchen and killed it.  He then grabbed a paper towel and picked it up, to which I ran out of the kitchen crying, finding comfort in my down comforter.  Because nothing is more comforting than a comforter.

My husband takes care of the cockroach, then approaches me in the bedroom.

“Your knight in shining armor has slain the dragon… and all you do is run away crying.  Fucking seriously?  No thanks?  No ‘I love you’ and ‘You’re my hero?’”

I’m pretty sure it was a trap, so I didn’t answer.

So that, my friends, is how a cockroach has caused me to become an excellent house keeper.

Has anyone ever been cornered by a cockroach before?

 

*Note: My husband always teases me that I’m afraid some rapist is going to come into the house.  While I’m pretty sure this won’t happen, I am a little paranoid.  So when I screamed, he thought someone had broken into the house so he was all STAND BACK! I SHALL PROTECT YOU!  When it was really only a roach…