Sunday, October 30, 2011

The Argument...

Hey Lifers...

Ok so last night the DW and I were fortunate enough to be clown free around dinner time. So naturaly we decided to go out and get a decent meal. You know, a meal that is served on a plate, has a leafy dish before the main course. That kind.

So anyway, we have a nice long meal and afterwards end up at ol' faifthful. That's right. Anyone who's been following A Day in the Life long enough knows that Target is the last leg of our clown free evening. We always end up at Target.

While I usually don't mind, because I'm an awesome husband like that, last night was different.
I was up pretty late the night before and only got about five hours sleep. So after dinner, I myself was more than content with heading back home and plopping my tired butt in front of the t.v, until bed.

But Noooooooo. She wanted to go to Target.

Now here's the thing. It might have been different if she wanted to go to Target because we needed a few things, and she knew exactly what she was after. But Noooooo.

You see we are getting our family pictures done next week, and we had to get new outfits...Two things wrong with this.

1. My wife is a professional photographer. People pay her to take their pictures. She is very, very good at what she does. I'm not sure why we are going to someone else to have ours done? Isn't that like a plumber calling Roto-Rooter when his sink backs up?

And  second.


Which means she had no clue as to what we were getting once we were in there. She wanted to look. Ladies do you have any idea how painful this is for us? I mean really? Walking around behind your wife in the ladies section while she touches every garment of clothing only to decide that she doesn't like it. And if by some chance she does find THE ONE, she has to try it on.

So this is where I gracefully bow out and opt for the electronics. Which for us fellas is the only place we can escape. It's sort of like the garage of department stores. So there I am aimlessly wandering through the electronics of Target. But Target's electronics is more like a shed than a garage, and after going up and down the aisles twice I'm done.

Meanwhile my date has decided to kick this party up a notch and has taken 5 articles of clothing into the dressing room when the company policy clearly states only 3 items allowed. Woo Hoo...Again, only to decide that none of them look right.

Upon her return from the changing room I tell her let's go. Let's get outta here. I don't want to wander Target anymore. I think Brundon the Target night watchman has already been called to follow the suspicious middle aged white male in the navy hoodie who is clearly casing the joint.

Which leads to The Argument.

Ahh yes. All couples have this argument, and I'd say married couples with clowns have this arguemt more than anyone else. The arguement of what do you want to do?

So we get to the car and she explains that we were in town, and Target is right here, and we new outfits. Why can't she look? Because I don't want to?

So what do you want to do?

Now at this point I was too affraid to tell her that what I wanted to do was go home put my comfy pants on, maybe grab a beer and watch the World Series. But instead I say I don't know, but I know exactly what I don't want to do.

We continue The Argument inside the car. Why is it that we always have to go where you wanna go, I whine. Because you never wanna go anywhere.

Whatever...So now what do you want to do, I ask. Well T.J. Max is right there, I wanna go over there....Whoo effin Hoo. You can stay in the car, you don't even have to go in, she tells me. Even better. Sitting outside waiting on my date as she finishes up our evening. What could be better. Half an hour later she sends me two texts that she's in the check out. I then proceed to send her one hundred an two reply texts that say ok. Yep, thats right. One hundy and two.

 After yelling at me on the way home she's all like..Why did you send me all those texts...and I'm all like...because you sent me two that said you were on your way. And she was all like....yeah I sent you two, you sent me like a hundred. To which I was like...yeah I sent you a hundred and two. And she was all like why did you send me that many. And I was all like...because I'm a hundred times better than you...bwahahahaha.

Yeah so most of this post was written while following the Target


1 comment:

  1. Target is like crack. I don't even like to shop (I really, really don't like to shop -- I understand I'm a rare breed) but even I can't resist Target. And yes, my husband definitely retreats to the shed, I mean electronics, as soon as humanly possible.