Jaded

I used to be a nice guy. Helping old ladies across the street, slaying dragons, giving money to those in need, smiling.
No longer.
My brother told me a story the other day.
He had been getting these snarky little notes stuck to his door from some anonymous asshole. Fatuous threats and foul imprecations penned by this gutless wretch would appear as if by magic on his door.
Requesting that he not have fires in his back yard.
Which he never had.
Demanding that he not have fires in his back yard.
Which he still had not had.
Threatening to call the Police if he did not cease to have fires in his back yard.
He went and double checked his backyard just to be sure.
No fire.
So imagine his delight when one night (fire less night) a knock came at his door and there stood the asshole in all his puckerish splendour.
The conversation went something like this.
Brother of Tom: Are you the asshole that's been leaving notes on my door?
Puckered asshole: I might have been
BOT: Well ....
At this point the Wife of the Brother of Tom smoothly stepped in and told BOT to go check the Baby.
Conveniently the baby was crying.
BOT tried to get passed the WOTBOT but she was Gandalf.
And the Baby screamed on.
So, defeated by WOTBOT and screaming baby BOT sulked away. Thanks to the WOTBOTs timely and wifely intervention the asshole lives to squirt another day.
I think they do that on purpose.
Wives.
Stop us from punishing the stupid.
It makes us ornery.
Mad.
Not nice.
I used to be a nice guy.
A girl came up to me while I was waiting for the wife at the grocery store. Our child #1 was very fresh and new. She liked to cry.
The girl told me a story, complete with tears, about her and her Baby. Their car. Sadly out of gas and just wanting to get home.
I gave her all the money I had, and when wife came back from the baby formula excursion, I gave the girl with tears all the money she had as well.
It was the tears.
A month later.
Walking into a store in another parking lot, Me holding the wee infant, Wife and MIL up ahead talking about whatever it is that they talk about.
I am approached by a man.
He tells me a story.
Complete with tears, that sounds strangely familiar.
Car,Gas,Baby,Home.
At his emotional conclusion he gestured to his car.
Inside the car sat.
The girl with tears.
Same story, same girl.
It is very hard to rage when you are holding a wee infant.
But I did my best.
I was screaming at the Wife to come and take the infant from me so I could crush this miserable pandering puckered asshole into the ground.
I had it all planned out.
Hand the wee infant to the wife. Crush the PPA into the ground, use his head to break out the windows of his car and than take all of his valuables.
Stymied.
Wife would not let me play.
The wee infant was left in my arms.
No manner of begging would sway her.
She was adamant.
So, in wee infants first adventure I chased the (by now) very alarmed extremely puckered panicked asshole to his car.
Yelling.
The Girl with tears recognised me when I kicked the car.
I saw it in her tear free eyes.
The wee infant chose this moment to have a blow out.
For those of you that are not parents, a "blow out" is when baby poo is so forcefully expelled by the baby that it shoots out the legs of the diaper and coats the surrounding area, or dad, with baby poo.
Lots of Baby poo.
The evil doers escaped.
I hung my head.
Wives.
They do that stuff on purpose.

Mornings with Wife

My Wife hates mornings. I am told that many people hate mornings, but my Wife has a special little place in her heart burnt black and crisp with the hate of mornings. Just to clarify, Mornings are anytime after 2am but before when she wants to get up. I actually realized this some several years before we were married. I went to her house to pick her up for some school function and was witness to "the morning silence" for the first time. She does not speak, she glares at everything through sleepy eyes and grinds her teeth if a bird even thinks of singing. A nod means yes, no and shut the hell up. I love mornings, always have, A brand new day full of surprises! Have I mentioned that my wife also hates surprises? I have never been a big fan of sleep so the first person I see when I wake up is usually subjected to a dialogue on the dreams I had the night before just to warm up for the jokes of the day. My wife is not fond of this habit of mine.

In fact I remember a time, not so very long ago, when I found that my wife had already woken up and was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of frosted flakes. This had never happened before, my wife up before me! I was so happy to see her that I immediately started telling her all abut the dreams of the night and plans for the day. She subjected me to the full power of the pissed off wife stare. (Those of you who have a wife have no doubt experienced this so I wont go into detail.) The stare was such a shock to my system that I stopped my spiel and asked my wife if she was OK? In the middle of the stare she said, through clenched teeth "Its just that I am not chit-chatty in the mornings" and went back to her sugar coated bliss. I went in search of dog, who is always glad to see me in the mornings.

I mention all of this now because recently I got a new alarm clock.

I usually wake up on my own "internal" alarm clock (bladder) around 4 and go to the gym. But if for some reason I sleep past that I have an alarm to wake me up for work at 5. I hate lighted alarm clocks, so when we found one that only lights up if you want it too I bought two. One for me, and one for the wife. As an added bonus for my wife it has a huge "snooze" button. She likes to "snooze" I think that the "snooze" button marks the beginning of the end of advanced civilisation as we know it, but I digress. The problem with this alarm clock is that the buttons to turn the alarm off are small. I have sausage fingers, I wear a size 14 ring, and I cant feel the tips of my fingers. So, to turn the alarm off if I am the least bit drowsy is quite the ordeal. This morning for example was not smooth. The alarm went off, so I picked it up and dropped it on my own head, then I couldn't find it in the comforter and when I did I had gotten turned around and pressed the wrong button, or no button at all, so the alarm kept going off, so I had to turn on the light so I could see but I flubbed the light switch (sausage fingers) and dropped the alarm clock back into the bed. At this point I felt my wife reach through the covers and with a precision born of fury snag the alarm clock. With one fluid motion she picked it up turned off the alarm and hit me on the head with it. It was awesome. I laughed (quietly) all the way to work.