12 posts tagged “marriage”

Quote from Eve's Revenge by Tania Starr

1. The Female always makes the rules

2. The rules are subject to change at any time without prior notification

3. No male can possibly know all the rules

4. If the female suspects the male knows all the rules she must immediately change some or all of the rules

5. The female is never wrong.

6. If the female is wrong, it is because of a flagrant misunderstanding which is the direct result of something the male did or said wrong.

7. If rule 6 applies, the male must apologize immediately for causing the misunderstanding

8. The female can change her mind at any time

9. The male must never change his mind without express written consent from the female.

10 The female has every right to be angry or upset at any time.

11. The male must remain calm at all times, unless the female wants him to be angry or upset.

12 The female must under no circumstances let the male know whether or not she wants him to be angry or upset.

13 The male is expected to read minds at all times

14. The male who doesn't abide by The Rules can't take the heat, lacks a backbone, is a wimp

15. Any attempt to document the Rules could result in bodily harm

16. If the female has PMS, all the rules are null and void

17 The female is ready when she is ready. The male must be ready at all times

Most of these rules have worked for me throughout 31 years of marriage...Mr FD still doesn't know that there are rules....

MegaBitch plays with my mind

Yesterday I passed MegaBitch, much as ships that pass in the night, except it was the front door. As she walked passed me she said "Your looking lovely today. Nice hair".  After 6 weeks she had noticed the foils! I also sensed her turning back and looking at me a second time. Today I passed her in the corridor - a bit week for MegaBitch sightings - and she said "Your hair is stunning. You look 20 years younger. The difference is just incredible".

So, now all I can think is - how bad did I look before and why did my daughters allow me out of the house looking like that?

Did you ever stop to think that the longer one lives, the more chance one has of dying? Aging has its certainty. So that means I can buy the new shoes now, rather than later, right?

Can postmaternal women get clucky for grandchildren? I almost bought a craft book with patterns for knitted toys today. I have no grandchildren, and am a long way from any I suspect, so I can only put it down to hormones, or lack of, making me desire grandchildren. Of course I would be a FANTASTIC grandma, but I am not altogether sure I am old enough to become a granny...The funny thing is that I didn't even knit toys for my own children so why would I start now?

No matter what time I go for a shower, Mr FD always, and I mean ALWAYS phones when I am in the shower. If children are home they answer the phone and I call back later, but if no one else home, I have been known to stand in the shower and talk to him as I stand under the water. He has some weird aqua clock that knows when I am wet I think.

She who is Going to Kill me with Kindness (SWKK) was very upset this morning, She had come in early and had been snooping in someone's office and came across something that distressed her. I didn't want to know what, who or where, and she offered no details, thankfully, But how do you comfort someone who has upset themselves by snooping and ignoring someone's privacy? It was weird. I once again advised her to move on for her own sanity. She is taking it all personally, she can't see the outsourcing as a business decision. I think it is the only way to cope. We may know either way next week anyway...sigh

I was so bored today. My assistant was away with a bad headache, so I had no one to ridicule and belittle. Yesterday she had no breakfast, a triple shot coffee, and no lunch until I insisted that she go and eat at 2pm. She has only one kidney so I took her to task about the coffee too. So not surprising she had a migraine today. Daughter 1 said that it was pointless assistant not eating as assistant dresses so badly and more often lookes like a reject from the thrift shop - thin is not an improvement. Assistant is a control freak, so this is just another thing. Daughter 1 suggested I tell her that she will start growing extra hair to keep her thin body warm if she takes it too far! And she is always cold. Anyway I digress. Let's go back to me. I was bored so after I sat spinning on my chair for a few minutes, always a fun thing to do,  I walked around the office looking over people's shoulders and standing near their desks and yawning. It didn't take long for them to start yawning also. I refined my craft until I had a fairly quick rate for getting them to succumb to yawning. Creating a yawn epidemic is fun, I may try it again in a day or two.

I asked a client for some information and he replied. He prefaced his reply with the words "here is an offer you wont get everyday" and I emailed back and wrote "I must admit that I don't get too many offers these days" and he replied" a lovely girl like you...I must take you out for coffee when I am next in the country" and I told Daughter 1 and she said "eeewwww old people flirting". Why do your children never want to think that their parents flirt, or have sex? Obviously we do, or they wouldn't be here! Not that I was flirting...he was flirting, I was being polite.  Mr FD gets asked by women if he is available all the time, because he has a lovely phone voice. Well he has a lovely voice all the time (don't tell him I said that, he might think I like him or something and my power will be weakened) but he has an especially nice phone voice. He always replies that if they could see what went with the voice, they wouldn't think that way. They think he is joking - he isn't.

The END

Thirty one years of marriage does not prepare you for being trapped in a car with your partner for three weeks as you drive through 4 states. Water boarding might possibly.

After 3 weeks I will know everyone of his current jokes, one liners and what he thinks passes as an intelligent witticism.

If Mr FD and I are out, I may order the meal, or select the item, but I always make him pay on his card. That way when the credit card account arrives all purchases are against his name and he can’t pretend he has no responsibility and I am a wanton spending machine. However, his evil brain cell will work out a cunning form of revenge –

Version 1

Me: We have to pay.

Him: Pay? I thought it was free. He will smile at the poor sales girl or waiter who will smile sickly back, as their brain thinks Di-khead.

Version 2

Me: We haven’t paid yet. Got your wallet?

Him: Wallet? But it is a cashless wallet. He will smile at the poor sales girl or waiter who will smile sickly back, and after he flashes a wallet containing no money, only receipts, and then hands them a credit card, as their brain thinks Di-khead, they will look at you with an expression that says “poor woman married to that”.

If I am so silly as to point out a ‘watch out for kangaroos next 5 klms’ sign, he will sing “Kangaroochie, Kangaroochie, la de la de da (imagine maracas in the background)-  EVERYTIME.

If I am so stupid as to mention “I wonder why that road sign just has a small letter E on it and what it means” he will offer theories and speculations for the next 632 klms. I will have long since stopped caring, if in fact I ever did, but he will keep going, on and on.

If we decide to bring 6 cds each to play in the car, Mr FD  will snatch his cds from his company car and it will only be when we are in the next state that  I will discover he has in fact selected empty cd cases. He will have only one cd – Mark Knoffler and Emmy-lou Harris, which we play for the next three hours and repeatedly after that. He will even sing along! He will then grumble over my selection. [In the delightful best bookshop in Australia, the Lorne Bookshop, we purchased a Cold Play cd, as it was middle ground.]We will take to listening to the ABC radio and even to BBC radio in an effort not to melt down in the interim.

He will identify the grass species or crop not only in every paddock, but also growing by the side of the road. Noxious introduced species will be a big talking point. He will also identify clients’ businesses as we pass through each town.

He will yell “Look!” but won’t give a clue which way to look, or what to look for, so that he then gets to say “oh you missed it”. Occasionally, he will throw out his left hand and point, except the hand will be a quarter inch from my face and all I will see will be the wrinkles on the back of his hand. Once or twice I will be tempted to bite it.

He will eat a chocolate, finish a drink or the like and then just hand me the rubbish. I too will be trapped in the car, and wonder, what the hell am I suppose to do with it? The best form of this is will be when he lifts his take away coffee cup out of the drink holder and finishes it and then hands me the empty paper cup – which I will then place back in the drink holder. Obviously show placing another one of my superior female talents....

This one we will both enjoy, not – continuous narration and commentary of the activities of all other cars on the road, both in front and behind. [If you are so worried about the car behind you, stop looking in the rear view mirror so much.  It is not personal; it is driving a car from A to B!]

Then there will be outside car irritations.

In public places he will look at the passing crowds and make statements like “that guy looks just like Nigel Pollock”. As you have never met Nigel Pollock you will have no idea if he did look like Nigel... but wait, then he will go on about how Nigel did him wrong in the dim dark past, or recite Nigel’s complete employment history to explain how they met once in ’82 and then again in ’97. This will happen at least 4 times each day and be mixed with statements such as “that man looks like Uncle Ted” so that you will be forced to say, “Uncle Ted is 84 years old, 5 feet three inches tall, 4 foot wide, has only one arm, and is  bald. That man is 6 feet 8 inches tall, not a day over 25, as skinny as a stick, has all his limbs as well as a full head of red hair. There is no resemblance”. Then he will act insulted that you disagree with his keen powers of observation.

And one for the homecoming: Despite my vigilance, he will leave personal items in motel rooms. Items like his phone charger, which he only just got back from the last time he lost it. Then he will complain that he has to contact the motel and ask them to send it home for him. When you get home, he will then complain loudly that he has to go to the post office to pick up all the POD parcels of HIS personal belongings....as though he had no responsibility for what happened...it will no doubt be the fault of those naughty little gremlins again, because, hey, he is perfect, remember.

I have been feeling very confused when in our bathroom this week and I have just realised why. Everything is in its place. The toothpaste has its lid on and is back in the toothbrush holder, the soap is in the soap dish, and my hair brush is with the comb. How can this be? Mr FD is away.

I was in the kitchen, below bench level with just the top of my head showing and Daughter 1 came into the room and was startled – I got foils in my hair and she isn’t used to Mum with lighter hair! Back in the 80’s I succumbed to an hour of madness and had one of those all over curly perms that everyone had at the time. I instantly regretted it, and when I went home Daughter 2 who was about 2 years old was very wary of me for the first few hours as she didn’t know her Mummy! Same thing happened when Mr FD shaved his beard off –  both the girls wouldn’t let him hold them until they got use to him. He grew it back straight away and has kept it so ever since!

Usually I go to bed and fall asleep before Mr FD. It is nothing for him to bound into the room at midnight, after I have been asleep for a good 2 hours, and flick on the light and wave some piece of paper under my dozing nose. Last time it was a collection of photos of all the places we are visiting on vacation that he had compiled into a small collage and wanted to show me. Sometimes it is the credit card account. Now, I don’t always respond in the manner in which he anticipated that I would. Actually, I rarely respond in the manner in which he wishes. 1. I have been asleep. 2. I am not used to the light as I have been sleeping in the dark and so need time to adjust to the light. 3. I have only one eye, and I wear spectacles – wave a piece of paper at me and all I see is a blur. So I lift a head, pretend I can see whatever it is, let my head fall back on the pillow and say “ that’s great” to the collage, “it wasn’t me” to the credit card balance. Then he has 30 seconds to turn off the light and either go away or come to bed, before I threaten to kill him. I think I lovingly murmur something along the lines “I am going to rip your head off your shoulders and use it as a vase if you don’t shut up”. He knows I am quite capable of carrying out my threats, so most times he follows my request. Sometimes he is bored and so starts chirping away on a number of subjects, and he calls this “stirring the lizard” – I am the lizard. I am his favourite blood sport. It is an even fight, but I always win. I don’t fight fair.

Why is it that I can swing my leg waist high with ease to rest my foot on the bathroom cabinet to apply moisturiser to my legs, but if I have to bend over to pick up something off the floor I make old lady grunts as I bend?

I have not been living in my moment lately. I usually make my breakfast and then put my medication on the side of my plate. This morning I ate my toast and then walked over and threw my crusts into the bin (I don’t like crusts and can’t run the risk of curly hair as my children won’t know me! The curly perm traumatised them enough for one life time!) After I emptied my plate, I thought SHIT! Did I take my tablets? So I had to go back to the bin and search among the rubbish and see if there were any tablets lurking in the rubbish. This is when daughter was startled by my head! Just the hair – not the face. She got over that trauma long ago! She thanks God every day that she doesn’t look like me! I digress, as is my want. From my investigations I discerned that there was a high probability that I had taken the said tablets. I took it as a reminder to live in the moment and pay attention to the little things in life. The little things are important too!

Daily I have the same dilemma. How many tissues/Kleenex does one put in one’s pocket? In the old days when we all used handkerchiefs it was easy – one handkerchief in a pocket. It was reused, so that was all one required. Of course now we all use tissues. They aren’t reused. So, one is not enough if one can’t be assured of a steady supply. So do I take two? Three? One in the pocket, one in the bra? It is a fine balance. Too few and you could be left needy and embarrassed. Too many and you develop a pocket bulge and risk the possibility that people will ask “Is that 33 tissues in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” It keeps me up at night – to two tissue or not to two tissue, that is my question.

Two more sleeps and Flamingo Town will be down one Flamingo Dancer – and safe for Snowy to enter. Vacation here we come! Tomorrow is laundry and packing. Already Son has checked the car and filled its tank in Mr FD’s absence. I have stocked the freezer with enough junk food to feed Son and Daughter 1 during our absence in return. Life is good.

I had to spend an hour on the phone today with Mr FD's sister. She is involved in a dismal never ending marriage with an egotistical psycopath in which their co-dependence means that neither of them can call Halt! to the sad merry go round that is their "marriage" and so insist on all their nearest and dearest living through it with them. A very long story short, After 25 years of unhappy marriage she found out he was having an affair with a work colleague (we suspect not the first, but she thinks the other woman was a slut who pursued the love god) She threw him out but kept going on dates with him and going to his therapist with him and so after 12 months, much to our disgust, they got back together again, bought a new house with a huge mortgage and went into round two. A couple of months later she was snooping through his text messages and found messages on Boxing day from the woman...now they are living in the same house, and socialising but apparently are separated, but while we know, no one else is suppose too...

Hence to today's phone call. Poor Mr FD is as honest as the day is long and so has really struggled keeping the sad tale from his wretched parents. On Sunday he was over visiting them and his mother made several comments that led Mr FD to believe that sister had told parents the truth - so yes, he let it all out...thinking they weren't hearing anything they didn't already know. They were quite calm and collected, and relieved that she was finally giving him the heave ho, so Mr FD came home none the wiser that he had spilled the beans and they hadn't known after all. Well his Dad is 91 and more than a little demented so he may or may not know even now!

So parents told the carer and the carer told the sister and the sister phoned - and lucky me, I picked up the phone! I was able to get her to understand that it was all a series of misunderstandings, and hey, they didn't drop both die at the news...but it appears, to me, that she was using the old don't tell the aged parents trick to stall actually physically separating from husband. For every solution I suggested for getting her own life back she shot that down with another excuse. She smells of major denial. Obviously, 10 years from now we will all be doing this same dance, and honestly I am already tired of it. I want to shake her and say "get your own life, make yourself happy," but she is locked in this miserable codependence that is so destructive and sick.

Of course Mr FD and I are now out in the back yard digging the bomb shelter, because we know sister is a ruminator and all this will come back to haunt us when we least expect it. Somewhere, some time we will be blasted long and hard with a list of all our failings by dear sister, as she can give it with both mean barrels, but insists on being a protected species.

So enough already - before I go and find myself a rock to crawl under, can we please have some peace and sancturary? Something that passes for a normal life would be nice.

Mr and Mrs FD get their grove back

After three phone calls from Mr FD and more of my supreme phone counselling I think he is back on the straight and narrow - at least for the rest of the day PLEASE! Double pain medication is easing my physical pain too...maybe a Nana nap will help.

Note to self - buy a new reality.

One of those days, one of those lives...

Not a great day in the Flamingo Dancer household. I am back in the dork neck collar due to a flare up with the back injury. I am so tired of it - the most positive I can be today is to feel blessed that I am still breathing...

Mr FD is experiencing another one of his intermittent crazy man episodes where he wants to tell the bosses to stick it and walk out the door and I have to talk him off the roof. It is like his brain chemistry goes awry and he becomes his own worst ememy and jumps at shadows. He has very low self-esteem but at the same time thinks he often has all the answers and has to save the company and then wonders why no one says thank you and raises him shoulder high for a victory lap. His whole identity is caught up in his job - like so many Australian men of his generation. I have to remind him that he is 58 and only wants to work another 5 years and took this job to enable us to live our dreams after that time... He is very impulsive, prone to angry outburts that he instantly regrets and becomes a high maintenance employee which tires and alienates people...but he is so loyal, so hard working, so honest, so earnest...a contradiction in  terms.

Today he is exhausting me and I feel like inserting a curtain rod through one of his ears and out the other ear and just hanging him somewhere until he either calms down or I feel able to cope with him.

Beware of the high maintenance husband.

Mr and Mrs Flamingo Dancer sharing a moment of marital bliss

After 31 years of marriage, Mr Flamingo Dancer has finally learnt to fight dirty. This morning when I was educating him yet again why the inpending disaster to my world was in some way his fault, he squared off and looked me straight in the eye and said, "I absolutely adore you. I love you more today than the day I married you."

Filthy sod. That is low down, dirty, mean fighting. How could he stoop so low? Devious.  I never thought he was capable of such manipulation and evil.

Revenge shall be sweet.  

A 100-year-old New Zealand man and his 99-year-old wife have had a lucky escape after driving the wrong way along a highway near Wellington.

Police say the mature duo was travelling through Ngauranga Gorge, just north of Wellington around 9:00pm yesterday (local time).

The driver accidentally turned north into a southbound lane and was able to dodge oncoming traffic for about two kilometres before colliding with another car.

The elderly couple suffered minor injuries.

It is not known whether the man or woman was behind the wheel, but a spokesman for Wellington police says it is unlikely the driver will face charges because of their age.

The spokesman says it is highly likely the couple will not be allowed to drive again.

100 and 99 years of age! Do you think they ever look at each other and think when are you going to die so I can have some peace and time to myself? Or is that only me?

I punched my husband in the face last night.

Well, actually I back handed him with my fist right in the face.

You see, it goes like this. I have this "special" pillow that I place under my arm to stop my shoulder dragging down and hurting my back. I lost it in the sheets and quilt last night and as I grabbed a fist hold of the quilt and threw my hand back to flip back the quilt my husband sat forward to help me find the pillow (might be because I was whinging and accusing him of stealing it!) and I back handed my fist right into his face. He collapsed back onto the pillow - and I thought it was all so amusing that I started to laugh - well I snorted to be exact. Like a giant pig.

So I snorted like a pig and then continued to laugh so much that I started to wheeze like I had two bad lungs. My husband recovered and declared that he had been slapped by a trotter in the face. I think he was more stunned that his wife could actually snort with laughter that it helped ease the pain.

So I punched my husband out and acted like an animal about it - and it made me realise that this is what marriage is. Not romance and roses and chocolates - it is when you accidentally take your partner out and you can both laugh about it too. You can snort like a pig with total abandonment and know that they will still love you in the mornig. Ah true love.

It will also teach him to keep out of the way of my mean right back hand! Not a bad thing...