Women dig funny guys. So says a recent study. I don’t think the article did justice to quick, witty humor. That’s absolutely a sign of intelligence. To be able to play off a social scenario and grab a laugh takes a sharp mind.
Just don’t expect to get lucky on a date starting with some racist jokes and ending with a pull my finger gag. If you do get lucky after all that, marry her…especially if she’s rich.
Michelle: We should talk more, like we used to do.
Me: We get to see each other more now. You know what else is better than talking?
Me: Listening. Let’s listen to each other right now. *SNORE*
There are some things going on with Michelle and myself currently, relationship issues. She denies it, but I think it resulted in the poking of my eye in the middle of the night. Fortunately, like most people, I sleep with my eyes closed, but damn that hurt. Yes, the violence continues. She says things are fine, but yet I keep getting attacked. I must have made her so mad that she’s buried it in her subconscious, and it manifests itself in half conscious aggression.
I think this all stems from the fact that Michelle hasn’t completely gotten over one of her loves. She is having a love affair with pho. It’s quite obvious that she is thinking of pho when she is with me. I even found the local pho restaurant hidden in her phone, filed simply under the letter P. Her Facebook profile picture is of her, eating pho. It doesn’t matter if she’s had pho twice during the week. She can’t get enough. I think professional counseling is in order for us to work out our food differences.
I stumbled across this old picture of Michelle and me and decided to scan it and share it with the rest of you. Ignore the date on it. The day was July 4, 1998. You can see a neighborhood block party in the background. Some things to note are how skinny I am and the fact that I am taller than Michelle, despite standing on a lower portion of the street. She must have grown an extra inch or two during college. Look how happy and care free we were then.
Unfortunately, little did we know that it wouldn’t be all smiles and sunny days. This rainy morning I awoke to a slap in the face, literally. I am a very heavy sleeper, so for me to wake up and for me to know that a slap to the face woke me up means I was hit pretty hard. Immediately I asked, “What?”
Apparently Michelle was dreaming that she was at her friend’s wedding and someone (not me) was sleeping and snoring during the wedding. People told Michelle to take care of the snoring man. So half awake she must have heard me breathing heavily, thought that it must have been me causing the ruckus, and bought down her palm of fury on my face. I’m being punished because she was dreaming! She even said it wasn’t me snoring in the dream.
This is not the first time I have suffered the wrath of Michelle for a dream. She go mad at me when she dreamed I had a tea party at Disney’s Magic Castle and didn’t invite her. Then there was the time that I had a Star Wars marathon watching party, and although she was invited, I wouldn’t let her talk because she asked too many questions.
Michelle: You need to be nicer to me.
Me: Come on! I’m sick!
Michelle: You were sick all last week already.
Me: What? I used up all my sick days?
I wonder if I can save them up and roll them over to next year if I don’t use them, or maybe I can just cash them out at the end of the year. Also, am I allowed to call in sick when we’re invited somewhere together and then stay home and play video games?