I generally go to sleep after my wife does. Last night, as I navigated the darkened room and attempted to quietly slide my tired, mellow body into bed next to my wife, someone (who shall remain nameless – although her name starts with an A and ends with an A and it’s not Anita) thought it would be funny to yell, “AARGH!” as I started my descent into bed. I bolted out of bed, heart racing.

Well, we know what part of Darwin’s “Fight or Flight” response I have adapted to now don’t we.

Dear Madam,

Please forgive me for “sneaking” up on you like that. I could tell I scared you by that look of terror in your eyes and the sharp intake of air you took when you spun your head around to see who was behind you. I know that crossing the parking lot in front of Ralph’s grocery store is wrought with tension. I should have known better than to get closer than 15 feet. But, you see, my arms were full of groceries and you were directly in my path to my car. I also was not paying attention to you. My mind was on whether I should open the box of Cheez-its and eat some on the way home – even though I knew dinner would be happening soon. And, while women have had reactions to me that I would rather forget, this was the first time I didn’t even have to open my mouth to elicit such emotion. (Well, there was that one time when Mrs. Ballinger, my fifth grade teacher, kicked me out of the room for making googly eyes at Stacy Adams, but I don’t think she was angry – she just wanted to teach me a lesson.) Anyway, I digress. I just wanted to apologize. No hard feelings, okay Next time I’ll be much more careful about where I walk in the parking lot… in broad daylight… with lots of people around. My fault. It will never happen again.

Sincerely,

Matthew
“Nice Guy”

One of our most favorite “I don’t feel like cooking, why don’t you pick up some food on your way home” restaurants is Panda Express. We usually order pretty much the same thing. Andrea requests either steamed rice or half steamed rice/half chow mein along with two helpings of mandarin chicken without the sauce. I usually get fried rice, an entree that has some vegetables in it and my mandatory order of orange chicken. Andrea always, without fail, asks for a “little nibble” of my orange chicken (she does that with french fries too, but that’s another story). Of course, I always protest but give in.

Last night, Andrea changed up on me and requested orange chicken along with her mandarin chicken. After the lady loaded up my styrofoam take-home box with my requested items, she then put the biggest two scoops of orange chicken I have ever seen into my wife’s (the one who NEVER orders orange chicken) styrofoam box.

As I got home I told Andrea of my amazement at how much orange chicken she received in her box. As we proceeded to eat, I leaned over for my “little nibble.”

She complained.

Down the road from us, a new shopping center has opened up in the past couple of months. As I was visiting the newly opened Rubios to pick up dinner, I happened to pass a mattress store. I glanced inside to see the salesperson sprawled out on a mattress, reading the newspaper.

I imagine there will be good deals at the “Going out of business” sale.

As a California native, I have spent a lot of time on our congested freeways. In that time, I have come to think of myself as a very good driver. Also, in that time, I have come to the conclusion that most drivers are stupid. Here are my pet peeves when it comes to stupid drivers:

1) That little stick on the left of your steering wheel – it’s called a “turn signal.” Why don’t you think about using it the next time you decide to cut in front of me.

2) Pulling up so close behind me that I can’t see your headlights is dangerous. If I didn’t pride myself on being such a good driver, I would be tempted to slam on my brakes. (“Gee officer, I thought I saw a cat dart into my path. I had to slam on my brakes.)

3) When we renew our registration each year, we are given a registration tag that differs only in year and color from the previous year’s tag. We are supposed to put the new one on top of the old one – in the upper right corner of the license plate. The upper left corner is reserved for the sticker that tells us what month your registration expires. There’s even instructions that come with the sticker for those too stupid to figure it out. At least once a day I see last year’s tag on the upper right corner of the license plate and this year’s tag on the upper left corner of the plate – covering the month tag. The CHP should pull you over and ticket you for being a moron.

4) If you insist on talking on your cell phone, please do it in the far right hand lane where the danger of killing someone else (namely me) is minimal. Slowing down to 50 mph and swerving within your lane doesn’t make anyone feel good about being near you.

5) Finally, if you are about to miss your exit and are doing 85 on the freeway, acknowledge your fuck-up and exit at the next exit instead of cutting across 4 lanes of traffic. We sane drivers appreciate it when we know where you crazy people are at all times.

Before we even moved into our newly built home three and a half months ago, Andrea and I made a list of things we NEEDED to have and things we WANTED to have. One of the things at the top of the list of “need to have” was a fire extinguisher. So, the first week we moved in, I bought one for the kitchen that was designed for grease and electrical fires along with a larger one in the garage. At the same time, I convinced Andrea that we no longer needed her ugly toaster oven that she was so in love with and that we could finally use our beautiful stainless steel toaster we had received as a wedding gift.

Now, when you buy a fire extinguisher you never think you’ll actually have to use one. However, when you’re buying said extinguisher, you probably aren’t thinking that someone (who shall remain nameless) will attempt to toast a tostada shell in the beautiful stainless steel toaster and then forget about it.

Andrea and I both were sprinters in college. However, it could be debated that we never moved as fast as we did tonight when we heard a small explosion and looked into the kitchen to see the beautiful stainless steel toaster spewing flames that were reaching our brand new, upgraded cabinets. As we sprinted into the kitchen, Andrea ran straight for the toaster while I ran straight for the extinguisher. She moved the burning toaster to the island in the middle of the kitchen in time for me to blast it with the fire extinguisher. Crisis averted.

Once we cleaned up all of the powdery residue and threw away our beautiful stainless steel toaster and had finally calmed down enough to relax on the couch, Andrea turned to me and said, “This wouldn’t have happened if I had my toaster oven.”

We went to Sea World yesterday. At the dolphin show they had a three or four year old boy come out to meet one of the dolphins. As the boy rubbed the dolphin, the trainer asked him what the dolphin felt like.

“A hot dog” he replied.