22 posts tagged “shane”

“There’s a city called Hope?”

“Hope, BC?”

“I guess.  Hey, you think that’s where Obama is really from?”

“Yes he Can...ada.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

I don’t know about other households, but ours seems to go through phases with vocabulary.  Shane and I are constantly latching on to words or phrases and (ab)using them intensely for a short period of time, just for fun.  Not too long ago, we were all about the Japanese terms, but lately we’ve shifted to a less family-friendly variety.

 

These days, it’s all about the fucking bullshit.

 

I can’t tell you how it started, but many of our conversations now end with this (prompted) phrase.  Here are some fictional examples.

 

Example 1:

“Did you hear Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow?”

“Six more weeks of winter?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we know what that is.”

“Fucking bullshit is what.”

 

Example 2:

“I think Whole Foods moved the rice chips again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.  And we know what that is.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, right there.”

 

I know; the immaturity of this is kind of appalling.  But I still giggle about it, particularly in instances where the swearing is completely uncalled for (e.g. “I can’t find my slippers...”).  Like all our phrase fixations, this one will eventually pass, and hopefully, the next will be less frat-boy humor and more sorority-chick-with-decent-GPA.  Until then, however, we can only promise not to engage in this exchange in front of children.

 

Because we all know what that would be.

Top five post-party signs your significant other had a little too much wine on New Year's Eve:

 

He...

1) Tries to help you clean up, but only manages to move empty beer bottles from one table to another.

2) Repeatedly asks, "Did I seem okay?"  Regardless of answer, responds, "No, tell me really."

3) Stares wide-eyed around apartment and remarks, "This is weird."  Then laughs at self.

4) Goes to bed at your insistence, but gets up within five minutes to put the chairs away because, "They are kitchen chairs.  They go at the kitchen table."

5) Finally remains in bed and starts to doze off, but awakens momentarily to yell, "You're my best friend!" from the bedroom.  At 3 a.m.

 

You're a champ, sweetie.

Like any pair of roommates, Shane and I have made many adjustments in our years of living together.  But nowhere is this more apparent than the bedroom.  (And, no, this is not a post about what you’re thinking this post may be about.  You dirty scoundrel, you.)

 

We both have many sleeping habits that are – how shall I say? – somewhat peculiar.  I am unable to sleep with my feet enclosed in anything.  Shane’s breathing sometimes imitates perfectly the sound of a deflating balloon.  I tend to gravitate toward the middle of the bed, with elbows and legs hitting any obstacle in the way.  Shane magically knows how to turn off the alarm a half-second BEFORE IT GOES OFF.  Etc.

 

We have made the necessary adjustments to deal with most of our issues.  We use a “free-standing” blanket instead of the covers.  Shane changes sleeping positions.  I start farther on my side of the bed (and closer to the clock).  But one thing I simply cannot get used to, no matter how hard I try, is Shane talking in his sleep.

 

You would not believe the crazy shit that comes out of this boy’s mouth (which he still manages to sleep through!).  Perhaps you remember the giant pager incident?  Or the time I asked him a question?  Those examples are just the tip of the iceberg.  I have woken up because Shane is laughing so hard, he is SHAKING THE ENTIRE BED.  I have been jarred awake because he wants to tell me (with undiluted excitement) he has “figured everything out.”  (Of course, when I asked what, he snapped out of it and forgot the all-important message.  So close to the meaning of life...and yet so far.) 

 

The late-night entertainment went to a whole new level last night, though.  Around 4 a.m., Shane started singing. 
Not just your regular, everyday, favorite-song-in-the-shower singing.  He was clearly trying to either a) compose lyrics or b) read words off the fuzzy karaoke screen of his dreams.  He would belt out a line, stop to ponder it, and then answer his own internal questioning with a “yes” or “no.”  I’m pretty sure I heard the phrases “shining love” and “new battle”, although I don’t recall if they received the affirmative or not.  (Let's hope not.)

 

There’s really no way to respond to these middle-of-the-night moments other than to shake my head and smile.  And imagine how much more fun this sleeptalking will be when our senility kicks in.  Thanks for all the laughs, sweetie!  You always keep things interesting.

NBC Announcer: “Stay tuned for more Green Universe tips, brought to you by the cast of Scrubs...and Wal-Mart.”

 

<explosive laughter from The Couch™>

 

“Now that’s funny.”

 

“And next up, green tips from your Republican National Committee.”

Click on the pictures for more details!

What a champ!

"Fuck you, Denny's."

 

"Yeah, those aren't even real sausages."

 

"But they are part of a Grand Slam...into the toilet!"

 

"A 'slam dunk,' if you will." *

 

*Potty humor brought to you courtesy of the excessive length of NBC's ad breaks.

On Sunday, Shane and I marked our seven-year anniversary.  Seven years!  As an “us”!

 

I find it hard to believe so much time has passed.   There have been so many wonderful memories, so many hugs and kisses and occasional threats to kick someone in the nuts.  It’s difficult to summarize our relationship after all this time, but one story does spring to mind.

 

Back when I was suffering through the worst of my runner’s knee, I had a conversation with Shane about perspective.  I remember telling him how even though I couldn’t participate in the half-marathon, even though I deal with this lousy fibromyalgia day after day, I always keep in mind that my situation could be worse.  I could be in a position to NEVER run again.  I could have a condition that interferes with my ability to earn a living.  I could have a life-threatening disease.  And then I wondered out loud if there was any situation where someone wouldn’t be able to say this, any circumstance that would be so bad as to leave a person in the most terrible place he/she could imagine.  In my mind, it was a rhetorical question, but Shane had an answer for me.

 

He said simply, “Losing you.”

 

I got tears in my eyes and chills down my spine because the sentiment was painfully true, not just for him but for me as well.

 

This is what it all boils down to, after all; this, right here, is what love is all about.  In committing to one another, we are saying, “The worst thing that could happen to me is to exist in a world without you.  Therefore, I will do everything in my power to keep you healthy and happy and a part of my life.”  And that’s as close to a definition of us as I’m likely to come.

 

So, if there is one bit of advice I would offer other couples after seven years, it is this.  Never forget how lucky you are to be this important to someone else.  There is no greater, more amazing gift.

 

(And now I must depart, to find a safe hiding place from my non-coupled friends.)

"You're going to leave me for a gay man in Vancouver, aren't you?"

 

"No, I'm going to leave you for gay men."

 

"A multitude of gay men?"

 

"An army.  Who will ride into town on horses, wearing assless chaps and handlebar mustaches."