PMS sucks!

With all the hype around a "man" giving birth, what if men actually suffered from PMS? It would probably sound something like this:

Wednesday Words

Barbecue Season Is Coming!

After the long months of cold and winter, we will soon be coming up to summer and BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking, as it’s the only type of cooking a real man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved.

When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:

Routine..

• The woman buys the food.
• The woman makes the salad, prepares the side dishes, and makes dessert.
• The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.

Here comes the important part:

• THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.

More routine…

• The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
• The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.

Important again:

• THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
  

More routine…..

• The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces and brings them to the table.
• After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.
  

And most important of all:

• Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
• The man asks the woman how she enjoyed “her night off.” And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there’s just no pleasing some women….

http://www.bbqjunkie.com/bbq/bbq-humor/

Fact of the matter is that I'm married to the world's worst cook. Sorry, babe, but you know it's true! So, I decided to get a new fancy-schmancy gas BBQ cuz that's supposed to be male turf. Guess who ended up doing the cooking?

Meet my sexy husband

...when he's not looking so sexy and thinks the flu is a terminal disease. Have to quote my friend Tertia on this one:

"Man Flu. An almost life-threatening debilitating affliction. Husbands are painful at the best of times. Sick husbands are like an ingrown toenail squished inside a pointy shoe worn to a cocktail party. Or like German orthopaedic shoes. PAINFUL!"

Don't be a wanker

The Euro has just kicked off, which means huge quantities of testosterone floating around. Come on, guys, show us girls what real machos you are!

You shoot, you score!

Stormy Weather Ahead

Ok, here's the situation. I know I've been going on about my pre-mid-life crisis when I hit 40, but that's not for a while yet. It's just me prepping myself up for the blow. Before that I have another storm to deal with. My husband's turning 50 on Wednesday and, by the looks of things, we're headed for some rocky waters.

Age has always been a delicate thing for him. When we first met he lied to me about his age. Talk about vanity! I guess in his head a 20-year-old "schoolgirl" (moi, in case you hadn't made the connection) wouldn't be interested in dating an older guy. Man, do they have it wrong! Little did he know that it was precisely his slightly greying hair and grown-up talk that attracted me to him in the first place.

So, to play it safe we usually lay off the topic of age here at home. The other day I actually made the stupid mistake of suggesting getting this new anti-wrinkles facial cream for men. He just glared at me and I got the message loud & clear. But 50 is an important milestone worth celebrating and he's going to have to get down to some serious partying, whether he likes or not (which he probably won't). Today I brought up the subject, just to test the waters, and he was actually warming up to the idea of a small b-day bash (our ideas of "small" are so different, so he doesn't actually know what's coming), when our son spoiled it all. There we were on the porch, soaking up the sun while discussing his birthday, when all of a sudden the little guy shouted across the street to the neighbour "Hey, guess what! My dad's turning 50 on Wednesday!" Shit! I took one look at my husband's blank expression. Utter silence! Then he said, "I think I'll take a raincheck. We'll do the celebrating when I retire".

But, I have my heart set on doing something, so from now until Wednesday I'll have to rely on my ingenuity to whip up a way to have this party, without risking a divorce while I'm at it.

Just a day in the life of Raggedy Ann.

PS: That's a picture of the Toronto skyline. Reminds me of those magical summer storms. But those hit without a warning. Not the case here - I know exactly what I'm headed for.