Thursday, August 16, 2012

Do You Think I Am Pretty?

There are times a guy needs keep his mouth shut if he is unable to respond the way a gal wants him to. I sound harsh you say? Well, let me tell you a short story…

Husband and wife make their annual trip to the Harley Rally in Sturgis, SD. Husband is in 7th heaven, despite having to rent a bike because his is in the shop. The wife tolerates it, and is not surprised that on the way back she gets a bad sunburn on her arm. Yet, besides this fact, the trip is fairly uneventful.

Husband and wife drop off the rental bike and are on their way back home about 4 days later. About 2 days after this, the wife’s arm starts to peel, exposing pinkish skin against the dark tan she got on her arm. She fusses over it, and it continues to get worse…
Husband and wife stop at a hotel for the night and watch a ‘Fresh Prince of Bel Air episode as they are about to call it a night. OK….ok….the wife tuned in initially to this show…BUT the husband *was* watching as the part came on where Vivian – the wife – goes:
o    Vivian: Do you think I'm pretty?
o    Phillip (husband) : Woman look in that mirror and tell me what you see.
o    Vivian: I don't know.
o    Phillip: Well let me tell you. I see every great thing a man could want in a woman. Eyes so dark and deep a man could get lost in them. Skin the color of mahogany, soft as satin. Body fit for a goddess. Look how beautiful you are. Look how beautiful you are.
And the wife sighs and looks at her husband and pointedly says:
“You should take notes”
And the husband replies:
“Your skin is like bark…. On a tree….all flakey and ….”
Wife smacks him.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

The Cozy Corner

I wonder if our GPS is possessed. Heck, I wonder if my husband is possessed sometimes too. I swear he tests me on a daily basis. Need an example you say? I have three words for you…

The Cozy Corner

Oh, yes. The name sounds nice, but it’s the last place a priss like me frequents. And thanks to our lovely GPS, it lead us right by it while barking its orders at us in one female voice and then another.  No – I am not kidding about the two voices.  One sounds quite pleasant, the other is more grumpy and sounds like she has been smoking a carton of cigarettes a day for years and years. The pleasant voice dominates most of the time, but as soon as we hit the Montana line, Miss GPS starting spazzin’ on us.

Honestly, I am not sure whose voice we heard before we got to the Cozy Corner, but I was filled with such dread walking in the door that I think I have blanked it out.

The Cozy Corner *is* centered on the corner, but I am not sure you would call it cozy. It was a bar – a bar that obviously had no one coming by to check on them for health code violations – or ANY violations for that matter. As I walk in, I see three people turn around to stare at us and I instantly cringe. I feel like an outsider, and no matter how hard I might act like I belonged there, it was apparent I didn’t. This didn’t stop my husband any, as he walked up to the bar and asked if they had anything good to eat.

Gack…. I think…. *we* might be the food if they don’t like you saying that I think. But the stooped over bartender exclaims that everything is good there and gives us menus and we sit down at a table. I make the mistake of looking around and notice empty boxes lining half of the wall, a cardboard cutout of some cheerleader gal that is signed stuck behind those boxes and a fireplace with ‘Cozy Corner’ on it that apparently had flames shooting outside it judging by the black soot lining the wall upwards a few feet.

Gack… I think again….I am not sure my stomach can handle this place. I look towards the bar and see the sideways glances of the people sitting up there – weathered, scrunched up faces that were sizing me up.

 Gack.. I think once again …and I look at my husband as he tells me to relax and chuckles.

 *&^%$%$^”, I think, “I will show him” as I try to act nonplussed that I was there.

 I didn’t do a good job at it, because when I told him what I wanted to order, he orders me two shots of rum also. Which I think is fine, makes me look bada$$ right? Like I am not too prissy to drink something that hardcore right? =)

 Well, I did get my rum and diet pepsi (shush, even hardcore people drink diet pepsi! Uhh…don’t they?), altho I looked longingly at the glass wanting a straw so bad I am pretty sure I nixed any badassedness they might have all been initially thinking about me.

 BUT, the rum helped and I started to relax some. The food came and it was decent and most importantly, my stomach is not gurgling in utter frustration yet. And as we walked out the door, we were told to have a safe trip, which I found nice.

 Altho, I was a bit too eager to get to the truck and wonder if they knew something we didn’t and this trip would be my last, but…

 Oh dear, I am starting to sound like our GPS I guess…..