My Wife Is Smarters Than I Wish She Were


After 8 beautiful years of marriage, it seems my wife is on to me.

I have a tendency to download the occasional tune from COMPLETELY LEGAL file sharing… ahem… services and tonight I sought a particular song that I happen to find very catchy.

This is what transpired as I attempted to listen, in private, with my earphones as my wife watched the uber retarded Big Brother:

HER: Are you listening to Kelly Clarkson?

ME: What? What did you say? Am I glistening in smelly chrysanthemum? You make no sense, woman! Begone! Begone, I say!

HER: You think she’s hot.

ME: Whatever.

It’s lucky that I’m so incredibly quick witted. Otherwise, I wouldn’t get away with nothing.



Ya know,there are days when you’re just in a kick-ass frame of mind.

Today was one of those days.

But you must always remember: When you’re up, there’s always somebody waiting to kick the feet out from underneath you.

That was also today.

(And why is there a cat sitting above me? What does that mean? I don’t even own a cat!)

Screw it

Today several things crossed my mind.

This is quite unusual.

I’m not a heavy thinking kind of guy. Of course, I do work in the ‘Creative’ industry so I am thinking pretty hard most of the day. (It takes skillz to sell da shoppin’ centers-ya know what I’m sayin’, peeps?)

It’s my down time where I’m either thinking of nothing special (“IS Britney going to dump K-Fed or what?”) or I’m thinking especially of nothing (which is something I have trouble convincing my wife that I’m capable of. Apparently, women are constantly following threads of thought from one thing to the other while men have the gift of tuning their minds to a non-broadcast station and just enjoy the white noise.).

My point is, over the last year or so I’ve realized a couple of things about myself.

  1. I’m slightly obsessive compulsive. I won’t step on cracks (lookin’ out for mom), I dress in a certain way, in a certain order, at a certain time of morning and I’m COMPLETELY anal about getting to the train station early even though I know from experience that it’s never on time.
  2. I have a tendency to be a bit manic-depressive.  For the last two months I decided to self-medicate and started taking St. John’s Wart. At first I found it soothing to be in a constant state of “meh…” but soon learned that I missed the manic phase where I had abnormal amounts of energy and actually enjoyed speaking to my co-workers, friends and family. (I’m off that stuff now and I’m thinking that it was  affecting my short term memory. Seriously. It’s much better now that I’ve stopped taking it. And that weird eye twitch I’ve had for 2 months has gone away.)
  3. I’m going bald.

I think out of the proceeding 3 items it’s the ‘Going Bald’ thing that took me the most by surprise. I mean, a bald man is the first to know what’s going on. No amount of self-denial will convince my fellow shedders that the ‘dandruff’ we’re experiencing after having burnt our noggins in the sun is because our shampoo has let us down.

It’s just that I always thought I’d have some decent coverage–and I didn’t think it would move from my head to my back and shoulders. (Both of my brothers still have full heads of hair! I got screwed. Damn genetics.)

Anyway, there’s no point to any of this. I’m just trying to clear the cobwebs from the last two months of over-the-counter “happiness”.

Screw being normal.

I’ll Never Understand Women

This is a transcript of a real, unedited conversation between my wife and I this morning:

ME: I'm cold.

HER: Maybe if you got the Hoover out, you'd warm up.

What does this mean?

How to Know If Your Marriage is Sound

I can count on one hand the number of times I've let my wife drive the car.

OK, that's not quite true. She has driven probably a thousand times in the (relatively) short time that she's had her license (this was in the States where any monkey can push the accelerator and keep the car on a straight path with the aid of power steering)– but not while I was in the car. I am a very bad passenger when it comes to female drivers. Perhaps this surprises you because I'm such a tolerant, understanding, sensitive human being but, alas, I do have my faults.

I have never and won't ever believe any statistic that claims women drivers are safer drivers. Nor will I ever believe that old people are safer drivers either. My theory is that both demographics drive in such a controlled, law-abiding manner as to render the "good" drivers, i.e. young men, helpless in everyday driving situations and such driving forces the good drivers to crash into small children and garbage trucks. And when I say "young men" I, of course, mean men of my exact age that drive exactly as I do.

Men are aggressive and we see the road as an enemy to conquer and you do not conquer enemies by greeting them politely and obeying the rules set out by them. You have to power over them, flatten them, embarrass them, take names and kick ass on them. And then sometimes, we like to casually take our time with the enemy, giving them a false sense of security before we downshift and scream up a hill at 90 +. (At this point, I'm reminded of an article by P.J. O'Rourke called 'How to Drive Fast on Drugs While Getting Your Wing-Wang Squeezed and Not Spill Your Drink.' I don't think it had anything to do with what I'm talking about but I seem to remember it was a good article.)

However, this is neither here nor there. The point is, today, after one whole year of living back in her native land, I finally let my wife drive us about 15 miles. And I have to say, she did just peachy.

Because the UK is so incredibly anal about handing out driving licenses, we both felt it was prudent that she take lessons and learn how to drive a manual transmission from somebody that didn't have a stake in our marriage (she's only ever driven an automatic. In the States. Where the roads are straight. And any monkey can drive.). I'm sure I could have taught her but the 25 pounds per lesson she pays is a hell of a lot less than the cost of a divorce lawyer we would have inevitably needed after one too many, "Christ! Slow down! You're too close to the edge!!! Stop riding the clutch!" escaping my lips.

So after a couple of hundred quid worth of lessons, I'm pretty sure my wife is capable of driving our car.

As long as I'm not with her or I'm unconscious after falling on my head or too drunk to know the difference.

Well done, sweetie!

The End of an Era?


Some of you may or may not know about the saga of Ceiling Cat.

This is your loss.

Apparently, Ceiling Cat has influential friends in (literally) low places.

It's all gonna end in tears…because…

Whoever wins…we lose

Ain’t 8 Great!


Yesterday, my wife and I celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary.

As you can see, we celebrated in style with sunflower seeds, Coors Light and a lovely card I made to show my deep, undying love for her.

Who says romance is dead?

How to Kill Your Brain

Today provided me the rare opportunity to sit upright, roll up my sleeves and give my full attention to the mess that has accumulated on my hard drive at work (and, by default, the server- which gives our Pseudo IT Guy the unique opportunity to sift through everybody's emails from the comfort of his corner office instead of sneaking in early or staying late and hacking into individual computers with the Admin password.).

Between my Inbox, Sent Items and Deleted Items I had something like 4,000 various pieces of useless crap that needed to go. Normally, I'm a "Fire Sale" type o' guy ("Everything Goes!") but since some of the emails are relatively current, I couldn't just "Select All" and "Delete". This meant 2 hours of tedious clicking/deleting from my Inbox and Sent Items alone and then I had to do it all over again because my settings (Thanks Pseudo IT Guy!) require that after I delete something it goes to the Deleted Items folder (naturally) where I have to delete them all over again.

Again, I didn't want to just nuke the whole thing because I've secretly hidden a few important personal emails amongst the inane "Hi gang, just nipping out to the chippy for a pastie and some fags! BRB!!!!!!" ilk. (I'm convinced these notes are code for something they don't want me to know about—like secret drinking sessions or home appliance shopping.)

I have never experienced such a mind-numbing chore in my life. And it wasn't helped by the fact that, every time I clicked to delete, a warning box flew up asking me to confirm that I really, truly, from the bottom of my heart wanted to delete the selected email.

After about 20 minutes of this I realized that if I held the Ctrl button down I could click as many files as I wanted and then would only have to click the confirmation box once. Sweet! So I went through, highlighting the ones I wanted rid of and continued clicking, clicking, clicking until…

(Now some of you may know where this is headed. I realize this has been a very tedious post about a whole lot of nothing but it's important that you understand how incredibly bored I am at the moment. Very. I'm VERY bored.)  

…that's right, I accidentally clicked something in a wrong, perhaps offensive, manner and all the highlighted emails duplicated themselves, leaving me with roughly 8,600 deleted items sitting in my so-called Deleted Items folder.

I couldn't face going through it again so everything was nuked and now I'm left without a couple of incredibly useful emails that I had hidden away for a rainy day. I hope that somewhere down the line, I will retrieve this information but in the meantime I'm going to set about hacking the Pseudo IT Guy's computer.

He's probably got copies somewhere.

Teething Probs

Well, I just found a limitation of WordPress–I can't cut and paste stuff I've written into my…sorry got distracted by the hot weather gal on BBC1 (my prediction: steady periods of warm, wet bursts followed by low cut blasts of nipply nippy winds).

Some might consider this a minor setback but I'm finding it a bit of a bummer (not that it's going to change my mind. I'm all for WordPress, Blogger can blow me).

I'm gonna work on this. The cut-n-paste thing, that is.

Let the Blogging Begin

It's nearly official.

I'm ditching the craptacular for the week and I'm trying my snazzy new WordPress layout.


The look and feel will probably change over the next couple of days as I experiment with the templates and hopefully find one that suits that certain je ne sais quoi that is the Wayne Ordinary Experience. (The same inconsistent content quality will, sadly, remain inconsistent–but hey! It's free so we all win!)

So let's try jamming in a couple of pics for kicks, shall we?



This is a picture a friend of mine sent me a couple of months (OK

Jett at LTA sent it to me-I have no other friends 😦 ) If you step away from the picture you will be AMAZED because the faces seem to MAGICALLY change places! It's like an optical illusion or something (god knows why I kept this saved on my desktop…)Ok! Test number one complete! I can sucessfully post and center stolen web images. Now to layout one or perhaps a series of my own. (Gee, this is exciting! And no, I don't know if I'm being sarcastic or not either.)


Well! This is interesting. I can post a series of identical photoshopped thumbnails with little or no hassle and all in a STRAIGHT ROW (UPDATE: Yeah, that didn't work so hot…don't know what happened there). That's more than I'm used to. I wonder how this will affect download times? I'll have to test it at work tomorrow (crappy download speeds. 2MB shared between 30 people…can you believe that?)

OK OK, I've tried hyperlinks, centering photos, crossed out text, posting thumbnails (could come in handy for the next series of holiday pics), centering type, italics, bold…yep, everything that blogggggger does. I'm pretty satisfied.

So now I just have to go back to my old site and try to post something, get pissed off again, and move over here permanently.

Wish me luck.