Preach on Saint Abdul!
Sometimes Nuv and I are so different/opposite/keenly punching each other in the face from either side of a fence, that I'm near positive our children will end up choosing only one of us to love and I'll end up sleeping in the car with a steak knife on a string around my neck for protection.
Being that we haven't really spent more than 6 minutes a week together while I've been in school, this last week has been an adjustment. (Being out of school for a month-I COULD WRITE A SIX PART MINISERIES NOVEL FOR EVERY EMOTION THAT EVOKES. Let's just say that after one week my brain has finally stopped whimpering at the front door with my book bag in its mouth waiting to be let out.)
Step one has been our cute little differences in the way we Christmas shop. Nuv is a Sergeant Dinkface, not willing to put his coat on until he has a detailed list of specific items to buy, and I cannot fucking do that. Sitting on the couch staring at a note pad (even one that was only $2.00 at Yoko Yaya 123 and is made out of cotton candy and asian eyelashes) trying to think of presents that I don't even know exist makes me internally tantrum and never ever works.
I enjoy picking an area of town, parking, and cruising in and out of stores, looking at things, matching these things to the people I love that deserve presents, buying them or not, then coming home with stuff or not. If I come home with nothing, sure, I'm not high-fiving my reflection, but it's not the end of the world. If Nuv comes home empty handed, or with say 100 dollars worth of candles and wrapping paper his wife picked out at Ikea,let's just say if we lived on a bridge, I would be shoved off. Failure, fail, fuck. Not happy. I know for everybody else Christmas shopping isn't a paradise couples dream sport but if neither one of us is willing to bend on technique, it's gonna be a long three weeks.
Just a little bit
More things we have vehemently disagreed on recently.....
True Blood on HBO.
You know it hurts me so much because I really wanted to love this. On paper, the premise is great and interesting and so wide open, but the execution was so poor and disappointing that I finished every episode grumpy with what could have been.
A really really ugly sweater in the Men's department in Sears. My reaction of loudly exclaiming "Holy shit!" and some choice comparisons to mucus, Bill Cosby and period blood stained underwear netted me the observation from the man I love that I am "Loud and classless."
We then renewed our vows in the food court.
Dear Salad kiosks in malls,
I'm going to need you to fix two things. One, your prices are outrageous. If you want me to not cave and get ketchup with a side of New York Fries, I don't want to skip a car payment to pay for the effort it took for you to rinse, shred and cut veggies. Two, there needs to be a double decker container invented so I can get fruit salad along with my veg salad because if these two entities touched (melon swimming in ranch dressing! olives smooching strawberries!), I would start howling uncontrollably. So there you have it.
The girl who eats the pickled beets last
Everything is going to be alright: On my scintillating work break I went to Safeway and slowly shopped. This wasn't even fun for me, a certified foodologist with a minor in loving to listen to people on their cell phones in the dairy aisle. This very activity would have turned Nuv into ash. I did find something that made everything better. A product from Holland in the spreads section called Duo Penotti-Hazelnut and caramel spread. When we got home starving from Ikea, I took the lid off and poked half a teaspoon in my mouth. It tasted like it was made by your best friend, Santa and Willy Wonka and if anybody doesn't like this stuff, they're not going to Heaven.
Preach on Saint Abdul!