STOP CALLING ME!

Wifey told me that there is a small clamoring for a new post out there in the Ronnettes realm, and who am I to keep them from entertainment?

Before I get too deep into this I need to say something. Like 99% of the population we have caller ID on the home phone. Well I do not know who "Unknown Caller" is, but I need to tell him (he is too aggressive to be a she) that he needs to go to the courthouse and get his rather unfortunate name changed, because I keep thinking that he is someone I don't know so I refuse to answer the phone. I just know that I am missing some important news, but he never leaves a message. Which is kind of rude if you think about it.

Okay, now I need to call out the "annoying c-words" that are at Wifey's office annoying her (I have been assured by Wifey herself that none of the Ronnettes are responsible for her being all crankified). Listen you schmuck(s), you are making it much more difficult for me to score with Wifey on those rare occassions that we are both home and conscious. I can't talk her out of her lacey underpinnings if she comes home and needs to vent for an hour and a half on how much you are pissing her off. And I got needs, people. So please, for my sake, wait until she is unable to accept tickets for the Ferris wheel before you work her nerves. I have already written off that week, so if you are going to work her into a gigantic ball of anger, THAT is the week to do it. On the plus side for me, if you wait until then to get her dander all a flutter, she will probably kill or at least maim you. That will eliminate a source of tension for her, which will allow me to release more of my own tension, as well as fill special balloons with the equivalent of a mid-major city's worth of potential people.

Now that Wifey is all blushing and cursing the day she ever told her co-workers about this site, I can move on to the business at hand...

I love my mother-in-law. I truly do. But she is going to have to learn that you do not start your car, leave it running, and go back in the house when you live on Belair Road in the city of Baltimore. Aberdeen? Go right ahead. Hell, anywhere in Harford County should be pretty much safe. But not when you live 20 feet from a stop for the 15 bus. It just ain't a sound business decision. And not only did we have to deal with all the stress of this, but since she used her regular set of keys, we had to change the lock on her door. Not to mention that my leather vest was in the car to be taken to the cleaners. Now, I am not going to argue with the $200 that insurance is paying us, but it is not easy to find a leather vest that compliments the portly gentleman without making him look like Dozer in Mask (the one with Eric Stoltz, not the one with Jim Carrey). "this is red..."

Sorry, I couldn't resist.

Now, what the hell else is going on? Oh, I know. BM (Best Man) and his wife had their baby, a lovely little girl named Olivia. I say that she is lovely even though I have not actually met the little ball of skin and poopy diapers. I am just going to assume that she is lovely until I find out otherwise.

My other college friend (the one who is not Fineous) had her 2nd child, a cutie named Helena. Helena I have met in person. She is the size of a cup of yogurt. Which should help the family as they try and move furniture around for her to have some personal space. Almost any closet and a space heater will do for now.

Seriously, she is a doll (literally. I couldn't resist that one either). And both Moms and both babies are doing well, so it is good news all around.

There hasn't been any more discussion between Wifey and myself as far as us making life out of random DNA couplings as of yet. Now she is pining for a puppy from a lady she knows. It might slow down her clock, or at least hit the snooze bar for a while. And best of all, puppies are a lot cheaper, and when they shit on the floor you can just rub their nose in it and no one from Child Services comes to your door to bitch you out.

Now, it is only 2 days until Valentine's Day, and I know that a lot of guys out there are panicking about what to do for their lovely ladies (or their lovely bottoms if you are in Mt. Vernon. Hi Fuzz!). Well if you are looking here for advice you are a fool. I got Wifey drunk at a party and got her to say "yes" to marrying me, and she only keeps me around because I dress up for her. And that French Maid outfit chafes. Plus I am pretty sure that after the accident she figured that she had better tie the knot, because next time she might not be so lucky. Sure, you can do flowers and candy and be the most stereotypical asshat out there. Jewelry? I swear to all that I hold holy that if ANYONE pulls one of those "he went to JARED" moves, I will destroy you all. Stuffed animals? PAJAMAGRAM? What the hell do I know? I didn't get married until I was 32. so what is BSR doing for his lovely lady this Wednesday? Making a nice (hopefully romantic) dinner and drinking a gallon of pineapple juice.

If you know what that means kudos for you. I am hoping Wifey remembers. Because I don't cook while wearing a school girl outfit for just anybody, and I don't do it for free. And damn it woman, I am not some piece of meat, and yes I am ticklish there!

Now while you go bleach your brain of the thought of me in a plaid miniskirt, I will move on to other things.

BSR