The bearded eye-roller

First of all, someone either give me one of these or 10,000 of these . Thank you.

Last night hubby and I went to a New Years Eve party with his friends. His friends are single guys, mostly in their early 30's. Let's just say, RisibleGirl does NOT fit in with this crowd. Don't get me wrong, I really like his friends but they have different life experiences and they're well, young guys. It's hard to find topics of conversation that we can all relate to. Or so I thought...

Somehow we got on the topic of cleaning habits. BJ commented on how he hasn't washed maybe 10 dishes since we got married. He says that I never give him a chance. Then one of his friends chimed in with the fact that I swoop in and pick up the dishes after everyone finishes eating and immediately start in on cleaning the kitchen. He poked fun at me about not being able to relax unless the kitchen is clean.

Well, yeah. And this is a bad thing?

So, then it became a game of bragging rights. Everyone started piping on on the neurotic cleanliness habits of the women in their lives. By the way, none of these women were there to defend themselves except me. One of the guys said that the first night his girlfriend stayed over, he caught her cleaning the toothpaste that was gunked up around the toothpaste lid. They all laughed and added more stories of their own.

It was kind of funny to sit back and listen to how these guys feel about the neatniks in their lives. Although they were all making fun, it was obvious that they were stepping all over themselves to get a chance to brag.

Apparently I crossed some weird line when I mentioned how I've been accused in the past of ironing my bath towels because they're always so straight and neat. That seemed to stop the room cold. You could almost hear the crickets chirping in the background. Then one of the guys said, "That's just sick".

Huh? Whaaaaat? Wait a minute, I thought we were all bonding. Thankfully BJ came to my rescue and said, "She said ACCUSED. She doesn't really iron the towels." Everyone seemed to relax after that.

Thanks, BJ, for saving my reputation.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get my toothbrush and scrub some grout.

I was over visiting The Sneeze last night and read his latest entry. It was about kissing.

I knew I'd have to blog about it because I found myself all mushy-like and getting dizzy and stuff. You see, I'm the lucky person who married the best kisser on this earth. If there are kissers on other planets, I'll bet he'd win the title there too. Really, I know what I'm talking about here folks. I've been a kissing afficionado all of my life. Ok, well, since third grade anyway. That's when I got my first kiss from a boy.

His name was Reuben. I really don't remember much about him except that he was my third grade boyfriend, we held hands and walked around the track at recess. Oh, and kissed. Nothing too extreme (that's for any pervs out there thinking otherwise). I was in third grade, for Pete's sake.

Fast forward to high school. That's when I really got to try out lots of kissing techniques. I feel kind of bad for the boys that I practiced on because I was very much a goody-two-shoes. I could kiss for hours, but kissing was all they got. Now that I'm older and wiser, I've heard stories of what that does to a guy. Oops.

My roomates and I used to like to kiss the guys who lived across from us in student housing at BYU. Looking back, I really don't understand what that was all about. They were almost like brothers to us, but we were all broke and had nothing better to do. Well, I suppose we could have read scriptures or something..... Nah, this was way more fun even though we all were truly just kissing. OK, maybe it was just me that was having fun.

My first husband was a HORRIBLE kisser. What was I thinking? Let's just say his saliva glands were working just fine. Ten years of that. Gag. I need to clear my head now. Yuck... I was just re-reading this to make sure I spelled everything right and had all of my t's crossed. Still seriously gagging. Heavily.

The boyfriend between the first husband and hubby didn't like kissing. Eight years of that. Can you imagine? Me? The kissing afficionado being with someone who doesn't like kissing? Shudder.

....cue in harp music and angelic sounding voices....

BJ... sigh. I remember our first kiss like it was yesterday. I get all mushy every time I think about it (and I think about it a lot!). We'd been on several dates before it happened. During those dates, I'd lust after those lips of his. I could tell that they would make for heavenly kissing. I was soooooo right. We were watching a movie, something we'd both find romantic. Stargate- (the movie!) Have I mentioned that we're both a couple of geeks?

The movie was done and we both just looked at each other, and then those lips of his turned into a couple of pillowy magnets. It was everything I'd imagined. After that kiss we both looked at each other and at the same time said, "wow". Really, we did. And it was. It was totally WOW.

It's still wow. I've been kissing those wonderful lips of his for two years and two months now and still can't get over how lucky I am that *I*, RisibleGirl, married the best kisser in the world.

...lucky me.

(have I mentioned how lucky I am?)

....sigh

The Thursday before Christmas was a lot of fun. After work, BJ, his mom and I wandered around downtown and went Christmas shopping for ourselves. This is a tradition that BJ and his mom started before I was in the picture. A tradition that I happened to really enjoy. I got hubby two new pairs of shoes and hubby got me a pair of emerald drop earrings (they're fabulous, by the way).

BJ's mom then treated us to a night at a swanky hotel downtown, and we treated her to dinner at a swanky restaurant. The food, the wine and the conversation was great. After dinner, we decided that we'd continue spending time together back at the hotel after getting comfie in jammies and robes that were provided by the hotel.

When I came out of the bathroom, I saw hubby in his white robe and black socks. I teased him mercilessly, as I am prone to do. I tell him he looks like a little old man every time he wears black socks with anything other than pants.

Case in Point:

Then came the knock on the door. It was mom.

As soon as she walked in the door, I was on the floor laughing. They both just looked at each other like, "what?" I'm sure that Mom was wondering what her son's wife thought was so darned funny. I'm sure she wonders that a lot.

Check out the feet....

BJ's office holiday party was last night. All of the houses made it to the banquet facility without falling apart. Even the crack house (that was our nickname for one of the houses that had a small crack on one side.)

Ok, sorry, I have to digress for a moment. It's been my holiday tradition for several years to make either gingerbread or candy houses. It's something the boys always enjoyed and it was good, messy, family fun. One year when it was gingerbread houses, one of the houses broke while coming out of the mold. I decided that we could probably hide the fact that it was broken if we covered it with enough candy. We each had houses to decorate and my oldest son decided to take the broken one.

Before you say "oh, what a sweet boy" about it, let me finish my story. It wasn't because he was being nice. It was because the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. He had decided that he was going to make it a crack house. Yup. I'm going to have to find a picture so I can post it at some point, but it was hysterical. He took tires off one of his old toy cars (he was about 18 at the time) and put them on the roof. He put trash all around the outside of the house. All that was missing was a fridge and lazy-boy out in the front yard. It was truly an abomination. This mommy couldn't have been more proud. Seriously. I love it that I have funny kids, it SO makes up for their horrible report cards.

Ok, back to the office party. The plan was that we'd put the houses in the middle of each of the eight tables and then put a sticker under one chair at each table. While giving his holiday speech, hubby was going to tell everyone that we had made the houses, then have people look under their table for the sticker to see who got to take the one from their table home. Fun, huh?

Right before giving his speech, the temporary services admin assistant (who has proven herself to be a complete imbecile on more than one occasion) came up to him and told him not to say anything about the houses and wouldn't tell him the reason. She was so insistant and flustered that hubby decided to keep his yapper shut about it. He just didn't want to deal with her lunacy right then. He gets enough of that at home.

BJ had to leave early for a previous engagement (involving three words: Texas + hold + 'em), and of course I left with him. We left before anything was mentioned about the houses, so I was robbed of the fun of hearing everyone chuckle about the fact that their boss had made these houses. Frankly, I'm mad. The whole time I was making them, I got a lot of joy out of the idea of hearing everyone's reaction. I feel like a spoiled brat because I just can't seem to get over it. I want to stomp my foot and call her bad names.

I think the only thing that will help is if I hear him say, "Off with her head!" ....and then get to witness it.

No matter what you did, I'm sure it wasn't nearly as fun as what Martha Stewart (ahem, hubby) and I did last night. BJ's Christmas party is tonight and we've decided to make the centerpieces for all eight of the tables. The centerpieces are houses made entirely of varieties of chocolate. He's da boss of a multi-million operation and so I'm sure the fact that he made these things will be particularly funny for his employees. Apparently, his reputation at work is that of a stuff shirt. This, I fear, will change.

I, being mentally 14, decided that we might as well have a good time while creating the centerpieces, so I found ways to make sexual innuendo's out of the most innocent things. "Honey, let me hold your bag (referring to the pastry bag) for you. Then, he'd get the eyebrow's up and down move, along with the naughty giggle. Ummmm, I'd get back the eye-roll move. Yeah, I get that a lot. Every day.

He did find my Madonna pose to be particularly enticing, so he was kind enough to take a photo. pastrybags.jpgThose are pastry bags, in case you're wondering.

We were having a great time putting these things together. Until I got tired. I've had the flu all week, so I still didn't have a whole lot of stamina. When the stamina is gone, so is my sense of humor. Oh, and patience. That also leaves the building, right behind Elvis.

Here's a little known fact about me. OK, maybe it's a well known fact and I'm unaware. I'm a perfectionist. At work, that's a good thing. At home, not so much. We were making eight candy houses and I wanted them to be perfect. BJ just wanted them done. I'd notice that they were catywampus, and he'd tell me just to leave it alone because the 'glue' (it was a special frosting you use to hold these things together) was setting up and "Pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaase quit messing with it because you're going to break it."

Ok, so I did make one roof fall. Sue me.

Here's fact number two. I am almost paralyzed by clutter and mess. I need my surroundings to be neat. So, when this --->spill.jpghappened I swore like a truck driver. Then apologized. Swear, then apologize. All night long.

I opened a bag of powdered sugar and it went everywhere. It spilled on me, on the counter, on the floor and all over my nice clean and always shiny appliances sitting on the counter. It was at that point that I wanted to cry. Of course, I had to stop the assembly line so I could get everything cleaned up even though there was a distinct possibility of this incident happening again.

I forgot to mention that I had a moment of complete insanity earlier in the day and asked hubby what he wanted for dinner. I told him that he could have anything he wanted because he had been traveling all week and I wanted him to feel the love with a nice home cooked meal. He decided he wanted fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy. Whaaaaa.........t????? Does he realize how messy that is to make? But he did get his fried chicken, because I am wife of the year.

Eventually, my hands got tired of squeezing the pastry bag (more 14 year old innuendo ensued) so hubby took over. He really had flair. He made beautiful ribbon with the icing. I told him he'd better stop with all the flair or I'd begin to wonder about him. Not that there's anything wrong with it- I just don't want to be married to so much flair. Eventually his hand got tired too and as he'd squeeze he'd say, "Son of a beehive". Yeah, he's edgy like that.

SEVERAL hours later, we finished all eight houses. Eight very catywampus houses, I might add. 8houses.jpg

And up close: house.jpg

I can't wait to see the reaction from his employees. That, my friends, will be worth every moment it took to clean up the aftermath.