…and the man said that’s not a [fill in blank] thats my wife
so… a sixteen year old daughter, is one thing… but, have you ever looked at your wife and wondered who in the heck that is (usually after some form of uncertain dialogue)? even apes have enough sense not to make eye-contact when matters get touchy. but me?
that “no mans land” (literally)/1 of the daunting “dog house” finds me its hapless resident, again.
God has a wicked, if not capricious, sense of humor, eh. the joke is forever on us. sometimes its a good joke. some times not so much. but, humor, the sense of it, and an ability to adapt to any situation, possibly a challenge, separates us from the beasts. we have to always remain alert.
…because it can always be worse. we may find ourselves out of the dog house, and thrown to the wolves.
however, a potential white knight opportunity manifested itself Friday morning when Joanne tried to forward an invoice she had on email from the dog park she favors.
so, without a lot of my typical preamble (except for the above part), and sans further adieu, I will simply share with you an email I crafted for Joanne (just so’s you might recognize her, she’s the one, that at rare social gatherings, often looks at me with a mix of perplexity and skepticism), that morning.
it will either make her laugh, or just piss her off more. but, I can rarely help myself with such matters:
“Good morning.
While I am deeply sorry to contribute in any way, shape, or form, to your duress, I must nevertheless inform you that your email finds itself (and perhaps forlornly so) bereft of any actionable attachment. Thusly, I find myself in a desolate sate of compromised ability to come to your succor, in this matter.
That said, with hope springing forever eternal, a solution verily finds itself at-hand! To wit… If you could dig deep and rally yourself to the august cause of finding an actual invoice (I pray, I pray, I tell you that such a documents might exist), and cast that in my own wretched direction (or, simply forward it to me), I will make it a life-mission, a veritable raison d’être, to convert it financially (albeit electronically) into a pathway for your triumphant return to Wolfbrook Dog Park, and the better graces of the enigmatic Annette.
I am your servant, if only the object of your bitter disdain.
LvB”
peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.
brian patrick cork
1/: no man’s land - “the ambiguous region between two categories or states or conditions (usually containing some features of both); “but there is still a twilight zone, the tantalizing occurrences that are probably noise but might possibly be a signal”; “in the twilight zone between humor and vulgarity”; “in that no man’s land between negotiation and aggression”
DISCLAIMER: I’ve been married to the same woman for over twenty-two years. however, it takes two people to make that work. life can be like surfing, and marriage does not have to be a Kobayashi Maru.
“My wife sat down on the couch next to me as I was flipping channels.
She asked, “What’s on TV?”
I said, “Dust.”
And then the fight started…”
“A woman is standing nude, looking in the bedroom mirror. She is not
happy with what she sees and says to her husband, “I feel horrible; I
look old, fat and ugly. I really need you to pay me a compliment.”
The husband replies, ‘Your eyesight’s damn near perfect.’
And then the fight started…..”
“A man and a woman were asleep like two innocent babies.
Suddenly, at 3 o’clock in the morning, a loud noise came from outside.
The woman, bewildered, jumped up from the bed and yelled at the man
“Holy crap. That must be my husband!”
So the man jumped out of the bed; scared and naked jumped out the window.
He smashed himself on the ground, ran through a thorn bush and to his car as fast as he could go.
A few minutes later he returned and went up to the bedroom and screamed at the woman, ‘I AM your husband!’
The woman yelled back, “Yeah, then why were you running?”
And then the fight started…..”
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