Alright Fujupz maniacs, here we go. In case you haven’t noticed, and judging by the hit count you haven’t, we’re up and running here and it’s my duly sworn duty to come up with something to say on the regular. I’ll be trying for weekly updates to Plonker Sez, but let’s be honest…I get distracted easily. Sometimes it’s a project, sometimes it’s playing hide-and-seek with my son (yes, that’s right…someone let me reproduce…you’re all Fuj’d), and sometimes it’s something simple like Netflix….or Pornhub. Six of one, really.
This “week’s” rendition of Plonker Sez is…
THE THING I MISS LEAST ABOUT BEING MARRIED
I’ve played the marriage game twice and lost. The first time, I definitely accept my portion of the blame. We grew apart and I didn’t do anything to stop it. She didn’t either, but we’ve both accepted that we were both to blame. Actually, believe it or not, we’re quite friendly now. I mean, yeah at first I was pissed, but it’s in the past. The second one, to protect the identity, we’ll pretend she’s a Korean girl named Sai Ko. Sai was an interesting girl. Great sex life, but that’s about where it ended. Controlling and manipulative, while at the same time being controlled and manipulated by her parents. We weren’t even married six months. For this one I’ll accept no blame personally. The blame for this one lies squarely on my penis. We’ll call him Emperor Palpatine, Sith Lord. He used some kind of dark side force to turn me back to marriage.
Anyway, now that I’ve been single for a while, I’ve had time to reflect on life being single vs. being married. While I’ve tried the online dating scene, it’s almost scarier than trying to meet a nice girl (translation: someone who knows their way around a penis, while not having diseases) in a bar. Almost…I guess it depends on the bar. I’ve recently come to the conclusion that I’m quite happy being single. My life is very full and busy, though my social life consists only of changing diapers and watching Winnie the Pooh (neither of which I mind, since he’s my little buddy). I just don’t need a woman at this point, and in fact there are things about being with them that I just can’t stand. I suppose that’ll be a good top-ten list for another Plonker Sez post, so I’ll keep those things to myself for now. Anyway, I’m rambling on. Here it is, as promised…
The thing I miss least about being married
So everyone knows I’m involved in high speed aluminum transport. That means I’ll go long-ish stretches of work (3-10 days at a time) where I’m gone from home, followed by long stretches (equal duration or longer) where I’m at home doing a whole lot of nothing. Plonker’s favorite thing to do on those days used to be sleeping.
Now, you might be thinking, “so?” Yes, I also thought “so?” Then it happened…
[Read the following in your best National Geographic documentary narrator voice]
7am, the alarm goes off, the woman in bed next to you wakes up and starts her before-work-routine. How does she start it? The first thing she must do is turn on every light in the house. After that, of course, is the importance of the morning tribal warning. This is in the form of TV, iPhone music, and the shower running simultaneously. It’s a true cacophony in a 1200 square foot house.
Once the shower has ended and the water turned off, now she must dry her hair. Does she do so with the bathroom door closed to muffle the noise? Oh, of course not. The door wide open, the hair dryer turns on. Now, this hair dryer isn’t one like you’d find on a cruise ship or in a hotel room. Oh, no. This bad boy is what Bush used when he wanted to form Hurricane Katrina to wipe out New Orleans. It’s capable of sustained winds of over 6,000 miles per hour with peak gusts that are able to push photons of light backwards. If you’ve never been in a wind tunnel, or on a busy airport ramp, with 73 airplanes running their APU, you only need to be married to get the experience for yourself.
By this time, you’re wide awake and trying to go back to sleep. As the hair dryer turns off, you think you’re down to just music and the TV (neither of which, she’s listening to, by the way). Once again, you’d be wrong. Now, she’s going to try to get dressed. If you’ve never been married (or perhaps lived with a girlfriend, though there are magical events that happen in a wedding. Some of those magical events are the elimination of oral sex. I don’t know what it is, but as soon as you say “I do”, she says “I don’t”. A few other things is that she becomes less dainty and more normal. I suppose that’s not the correct word, as Sai Ko was able to demonstrate to me, but for now it’s the only word I can think of. Where before they’ll get dressed in the bathroom, door closed, tiptoeing around the house, now they insist on getting dressed in the bedroom. Why does this impact your ability to go back to sleep? Because they don’t get dressed on the 50 square feet of floor. Instead, they insist on getting dressed on the queen size mattress, of which they have generously offered about 18 square inches of space for hubby to sleep.
Walking through the house, it’s like the scene in Jurassic Park where the kid is in the car and the lawyer sees the ripples of water and says, “maybe it’s the power trying to come back on.” Okay, which subterranean shithole does this lawyer live in that the power “trying to come back on” makes the Earth shake? What the fuck were they thinking with that line in the script? A lawyer! He’s supposed to be the educated one, in a car with two nerdy kids! Granted, the chick grew up to be a hottie (she was also in Tremors and Tremors 3, in case you’re wondering…now she’s an artist or art teacher or something….), but she played a nerdy kid in JP and JP2 (for the 8 seconds she was in the film). But I’m getting off track here, back to the thing I miss least about being married. As a wife walks through the house, making as much noise as possible, she then must place clothes on the bed, using it as her personal trampoline in an effort to experience astronaut life, where you can put your pants on two legs at a time.
We’re getting near the end here, but not quite in the clear. She’s clean, she’s dry, she’s dressed, and now she must select the proper scent in body spray or perfume to wear for her day at work. Apparently she feels the need to impress someone, and it ain’t you, because you’ll be in bed until 3pm…but I’m digressing again. Now you’d think that most people would have one scent they wear all the time and are quite familiar with it. What you’d be thinking of is what is known as a “man”. Seriously…men have one bottle of after shave or cologne and that’s it. If it’s after shave, there’s a better chance of it being used all the time. Cologne will be sprayed just for important events. Date night, holidays, and court appearances are just about it. But a wife…oh, a wife is a different animal.
As she prepares to select a scent, she must first sample each and every one. These random scents are carelessly puffed into the air with no regard for where the droplets fall. I’ll tell you where they fall…right on your face. No, they don’t taste good. After about the fifth or sixth squirt, you start to ask yourself “is this what it’s like when I jizz on her face? If so, I can see why she hates it.” For the next 10-15 hours, you wont’ be able to breathe, as your sinuses attempt to discern which scents are the body spray and perfume and which scents are the real world. Just when you get it right, you’ll be making dinner and get confused all over again, but that’s for another post.
Finally, she has selected her scent du jour and is preparing to head to work. She leans in, and you’re expecting a little peck on the cheek or forehead and a quick “I’m going to work, I love you.” Oh, silly boy…you’ve got a lot to learn. Now is when you can expect your daily Honey-Do list. This list won’t be a simple one or two things, like “hey can you mow the grass and dust in the dining room?”. No…this list is going to be longer than Santa’s Naughty and Nice lists combined. You’re going to forget 93% of everything she tells you at this point, and even if you had the opportunity to write it down, you’d have to be Barry Allen to actually accomplish more than about 1/8 of the items on the list.
Now that your slumber is sufficiently disturbed, you can’t breathe, the TV is still on (and it was never watched), and your mind is scrambled trying to put together this to-do list, she finally saunters down the stairs, out the door and off to work.
Alone and confused, you consider your options:
Attempt to go back to sleep,
Attempt to do some of the things on the list, or
Angry masturbation.
…lotion’s in the top drawer, Kleenex on the night stand.
Catch ya next week, Fujupz fanz!
Plonker
