Hey, I’m Right Here

Apparently, my wife thinks that I don’t exist just because she doesn’t see me ever. So, she feels as though she can talk about me right in front of everybody. Well, since a blog is our only form of communication, she should know that I’m writing the Great American Novel. (Well, maybe the great South American Novel. Although, I’m guessing Gabriel Garcia-Marquez did that. Or, was he Mexican?) But, I digress…

You know, this is just typical of marriage. The husband (most times, the man) has to do everything the wife wants. I have to support her in her blog and in her constant need for attention. (I think I know her birthday; I really do.) In the mean time, as soon as I want to play video games, walk around without pants, stink the house up with my horrendous odor, or write a novel, she just yells at me or tries to undermine my efforts. It’s almost like she doesn’t like my stink. How can that be?

So, gentlemen (usually, the husband), it’s up to you to remind your wives just how important you are. I’m calling a general strike! Stop taking out the trash. Don’t fix that light that only you can reach. And, by golly, increase your #2 production by at least double. And, don’t forget, if you like chili, don’t be afraid. Who’s going to stop you?

Alright, folks, I’m off to write. Don’t forget about me, and don’t let my wife badmouth me like she’s apt to do. Farewell for now.

Chris