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Women - They Get Upset When We Do What They Want


Subdeacon Joe

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The proper answer is, "Come and pick it out!!"

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The proper answer is, "Come and pick it out!!"

He speaks with great wisdom!

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My wife asked me to put the dishes away, then told me never to touch them again as she can't find half the stuff because I put them in the wrong places. So instead she asked me to fold the towels in the dryer. I folded them and put them away only to get chewed out again because I folded them WRONG! I was supposed to fold them in thirds so they would fit neatly. "Why didn't you tell me that"? I ask "You should know because that is how they are folded when you take them out to use them", she tells me. Like I inspect how towels are folded when I need one or where the dishes are located when I look for them! Women actually think this stuff is inportant! sort of like putting the toilet seat down after you use it. It is a mans responsibility to know what a woman wants and needs while she bears no responsibility to tell you what she expects or look before she sits down. I tell Ya, it drives be batty!

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OK. Here's one.. for you cowpokes.

 

We are out of toilet paper, for two days. Using Kleenex tissues. Wife keeps forgetting to get some. During my lunch hour I run into Walmart and grap some TP. on the way to the checkout I run into the Wife. She wants to know why I'm there and I tell her. I'm doing good right? Wrong! I have the "wrong" brand

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OK. Here's one.. for you cowpokes.

 

We are out of toilet paper, for two days. Using Kleenex tissues. Wife keeps forgetting to get some. During my lunch hour I run into Walmart and grap some TP. on the way to the checkout I run into the Wife. She wants to know why I'm there and I tell her. I'm doing good right? Wrong! I have the "wrong" brand

If it does the job, who cares...

 

TL

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"Women will never tell you what they want, but they'll sure let you know when they don't get it."

 

Now then ladies, I know there are "truisms" about men as we are hopelessly fallible. In the interest of fair play, we need to hear some "truisms" from you. I'll get things started.

 

"Men are liars. But we lie so much because women are always yelling at us. But women are always yelling at us because men lie so much." --tim allen

 

:)

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It is all a control game played back and forth between husband and wife. Both want control over the other and each will use whatever is at hand to achieve their goal. TP, dishes, tree stand, whatever are just tools to be used.

 

It is outstanding when both work toward a common goal and do not step on each others toes.

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It is all a control game played back and forth between husband and wife. Both want control over the other and each will use whatever is at hand to achieve their goal. TP, dishes, tree stand, whatever are just tools to be used.

 

It is outstanding when both work toward a common goal and do not step on each others toes.

That really happens???

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Mmm ... I am remembering the his-n-hers T-shirts I saw one time ...

His was a big proud strutting Dominecker rooster with the caption, in capital letters ...

"I RULE THE ROOST!"

Hers was a Dominecker hen, wearing an apron and holding a rolling pin, with the caption, also in capital letters ...

"I RULE THE ROOSTER!"

 

Men and women are different creatures. They are built different, they are wired different, they think and speak different.

My wife hates it when I shop.

She'll give me a list.

I'll get what's on the list.

I will get everything that's on the list.

I will get ONLY what's on the list.

And she's unhappy.!

She wanted some snackies or some chocolate and she just does not give me any understanding when I point out "But it wasn't on the list!"

She won't shop with me anymore.

If I got to the store I regard it like a military raid: get in, get it and get out.

Surgical strike.

I'll go straight to the item I want, grab it, move on.

She can't stand that.

She refuses to take the first of anything she sees; she'll look at this, read that, turn something around to read the label, calculate price differences, wander here, wander there, a process she calls "Shopping ..."

Not me.

"Is that the list? We done? Can we go now?"

 

I was absolutely forbidden to touch laundry after I neglected to notice an all cotton blouse in the washer.

I threw in some bedsheets, washed them with hot water, threw the mess into the dryer and tumbled for three days on high heat (her words, not mine) and that all cotton blouse came out perfectly sized for a Barbie doll (her words there too)

I can do towels.

She'll allow me to do towels.

And I can shop vac up dust bunnies from around the washer. She'll allow me to do that.

I do need to show her the Jeff Foxworthy routine where he declares, "It is perfectly legal for women to put gas in a car!"

I really need to show her that one, and yes, there's a story behind it ...

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Well Linn, I sympathize with you, to a point..................

 

I'm reluctant to let Uno do the shopping but for a completely different reason.

 

He believes there is only one store on the entire planet at which to shop. Costco.

 

Now we have a basement so the extra rolls of TP and boxes of tissues can go down there.

However, there is only two of us and we don't do a lot of entertaining. What will we do with 3 dozen eggs? They have to be refrigerated so there is only one place to put them....

Two gallons of mayonnaise. We won't use that much in a year. Once opened that has to go in the fridge too. The freezer is stuffed with restaurant sized packages of sausage patties, chicken wings and the like to the point where little else fits. I don't dare cook large meals with leftovers of any kind because there is no place to store them.

 

Don't get me started on the "Look what I found while shopping today..." We have more "Atomic Clocks" and flashlights than anyone in their right mind would own.

 

Good luck fellas.

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... Calam, that odd braying sound in the distance is me, laughing ...

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Gee, My wife won't shop with me either. Just because if I ask for something she doesn't was to buy I'll stick out my lower lip and tell everyone that passes us in the aisle "She won't buy me Chocolate chip cookies" (or whatever). If she leaves me alone in a fabric store when a clerk asks if they can help me I'll tell them I'm looking for a Left Handed Sewing Machine and they will run in back and scour the catalogs looking for one to sell me. I do the same thing in other stores. I never approach the clerk but if he/she asks if they can help I'm always looking for a left handed chainsaw (I'd buy one if anyone made one) or a left handed tape measure so I wouldn't have to stand on my head to read it.

 

I once asked a KFC order taker for a Hillary dinner. When she asked what a Hillary dinner was I told her the one featuring two small breasts, two fat thighs and a left wing. You would think my wife would at least find me amusing... but NOOOOOO!!!

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I do similar. I also do running commentary on other shoppers obvious genetic flaws. As far as laundry goes, I grew up in a home with a stay at home mom. We never did housework. So...... when I got married, I naturally thought that my new red sweatshirt could get washed with all the other laundry. Jeans, towels, underwear, etc. Presto! One load! Of pink clothes......... But hey, what guy doesn't want to get into pink underwear? Right? Have not not done laundry in 27 years! I will do dishes to get the poop from work out from under my fingernails.

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MIchigan Slim, you have my complete understanding!

When my wife met me, my underwear was a collection of holes loosely held together by some threads.

Mama told me in passing one day she bleached our underwear.

I would dump in about a half a jug per load.

More is better, right?

All my clothes were grey, for the exact same reason you just described with attair sweat shirt ... everything goes in together, I want it clean so run the hot water to it ...

My bride was also challenged by my skills at cooking.

She came in the kitchen when I was frying bacon and she just stopped, and stared.

Y'see, I was wearing my leather welding gloves, my grinding visor and a rubber gunsmith's apron, the one that was spattered and faded from splashed bluing salts; my turner was a cheap spot welded thing and the flapper broke off the handle so I threw the handle away, grabbed the flapper part with vise grips, and was using that to turn the bacon in the frying pan.

When she quit curling up on the floor making the approximate noise of a chicken laying a paving brick, she wondered aloud what in the cotton pickin' I was doing and I said "Frying bacon."

"But .. why are you wearing all that?"

I looked at her like she had two heads and said "I don't like getting grease snapped!"

"Honey," she said gently, "all you need do is turn down the flame."

 

(The moral of the story, if there are young men on this honorable forum contemplating life on their own:

NOW, while your feet are still under the old man's table, take your Mama aside, and ask her gently and most sincerely if she will teach you how to do laundry and how to cook.

I genuinely regret having to learn these lessons on my own, and this simple question will not only endear you even more to your Mama, it will give you life skills that will bear dividends for a lifetime!

Learn from my mistakes!)

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