Drunken Pumpkin

I found this article about how married couples split housework via BoingBoing yesterday. It gave me a fair amount of insight into my own peculiar domestic situation.

My wife and I lived together for a year or so prior to getting married. During that time we largely split the house work pretty equally. Though we attempt to do the same now, it seems that she does a lot more of the housewifey stuff than she did previously, and when she doesn’t she apologizes for not doing so. I find that to be exceptionally peculiar, as I have never really asked her to behave like that, or even implied that she needs to be my personal maid. I think that fact that she is now my wife may well be triggering something in her brain about how she is supposed to act. At the same time, some part of my feeble little mind must be doing the same sort of thing.

Pre-marriage I liked to cook. And a number of people said that I was pretty good at it. In fact, nearly every cookbook in the house was purchased by me before I even met my wife. And my own wife was impressed by my cooking while she was still dating someone else (don’t ask). Yet, since we got married it seems I have forgotten how to fry chicken and steam vegetables. I mean, I burn spaghetti now. I no longer am capable of creating dinner out of a bag of ramen and some tofu. Some part of me has decided that as a husband I don’t need to know these things, which is a bit of a drag, because I liked cooking.

Of course, there are some wifely things that Mrs. Pyro still doesn’t do. Such as ironing. I hate ironing, which is why I wear wrinkly clothes. A lot. She doesn’t even fall for the, “If you show me how to do it, I’ll stop asking” ruse anymore.

Ah well, I’ll be interested if they ever do the companion study to see if marriage does turn progressive folks into regressives. It would be nice to know if I’m just a jerk, or a normal jerk.

Tune in next time, when I talk about keeping women in their place, and the works of Dave Sim.

I don’t normally do movie trailers, but this one looks neat. It’s 100% CGI, got an A-List cast, overall offers to be a phenomenal acheivement or monumental disappointment. I’ve always felt that there is a fine line between the two.

The only reason some people get lost in thought is because it’s unfamiliar territory.

My wife and I were out shopping at the local mall and decided to hit the MCL Cafeteria there. MCL is a Cafeteria style restaurant found in the Midwest, specifically Indiana, Illinois, and Ohio. It is a truly bizarre experience, in my opinion.

Okay, you all remember the Cafeteria from school, right? Imagine that; random food selection, standing in line with a tray, and someone handing you food over a sneeze guard. Now, this is certainly a better selection of foodstuffs than we ever got at my schools, but it does put me in the memory of third grade, which is a little shake of the reality tree.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I go into a restaurant for the first time, I’m usually a little confused about what I want to eat. And MCL was no different for me, but now, the lady that was going to serve me was standing there looking at me. My wife had a minor panic attack about making her decision under pressure and made me choose first. With nowhere to run I made a snap decision on the salad, and then got some chicken, because chicken is always a safe bet. The food was okay, but who cares? This isn’t a review.

The true joy that we had really had nothing to do with the food. It was the way that two things that have no right being together, Cafeteria service and family dining, tried to fit together. The food service really was like the mission kitchen that I used to volunteer at (though with much better food), but then you would go out to a warmly lit dining area all decked out in earth tones. Granted the wall paper on one side was giant flowers, gingham on the other, and stucco an yet another wall, but you get the idea.

The really interesting bit was the waitress that came around and asked if everything was okay and later refilled my beverage. I was a little confused by this, as I had assumed that we got that one shot with the soda, and I had been using my European skills to conserve mine.

And last, but not least, was the question of bussing the tables. In a cafeteria you clean up after yourself. At a normal restaurant people are paid to pick up after you. And here we were at a bizarre hybrid of the two. After deciding that we would have to wait too long to follow someone else’s lead and failing to see any trash cans or windows full of hairnetted workers we just left the stuff on the table and fled.

Of course, I was wearing the kilt, so I figured if we did anything that was a bit of a faux pas I would be blamed for being some kind of idiot, and I was completely okay with that. It’s nothing new, really.

Tune in tomorrow when I give my lament to the fact I didn’t win the lottery over the weekend and have to return to my trek across the country making the world a little less stupid.

I found this video that represents fairly accurately my experiences when working out at the gym.

A group of friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought the competition was unfair. He ask ed the good fathers to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to “persuade” them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he’d be back if they didn’t
close up shop.
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Due to a weird pricing situation it made sense at the time to sign up for cable tv when we got internet at the house. I must say, this is the first time I have had cable in my life, and it is quite an odd experience. I grew accustomed to controlling my media, movies were at my whim, and I could pee whenever I felt the need. Now, when I make the talking box be quiet it keeps right on talking without me and I miss stuff. Very strange.

I know some of you might say that I could get a TiVo or some such device and fix that problem, as well as the commercial interruption situation, but that seems like a bit of a strange solution. One piece of technology made my life more complicated, so I’ll add another layer of technology to sort that out. I don’t like it. Where will it end? Will I soon need a special timer to tell me when to turn on the Tivo and watch my saved programs because my hard drive is full and it’s going to start deleting stuff? Why don’t I just watch things on disc, like I used to and be done with the whole bloody mess.

Well, I’m stuck with the talking box for about another 9 months, when the promotional period ends it goes away and order is restored to the universe.

Tune in tomorrow for adventures about town with me and Mrs. Pyro.

A celebrity is a person who works hard all his life to become well known, then wears dark glasses to avoid being recognized.

Discussing martial arts and racial stereotyping.