The lovely Petite Heretic recently directed me to an article in the Daily Mail about daily habits that women should not share with their husbands, such as:

  1. Putting on Spanx
  2. Using Q-Tips
  3. Existing

I don’t know about you bitches, but I have some more embarrasing shit to hide from Adrian than praying to the Gods of Fat while trying to strap my ass into Satan’s Pantyhose.

Ronald McDonald Died In My Car in November 2009

Adrian’s self esteem is inextricably tied to the cleanliness and operation of his beloved car. Each piece must be fully operational and sparkly or he finds himself in the darkest of despairs. His car is cleaned, inside and out, twice a month on average. If Adrian could have sex with his car, they would make beautiful, Zack Morris-y babies.

Until last Wednesday, my Jeep’s passenger’s side window was taped to the headliner with 13 half-sticky pieces of electrical tape, and just today I found a 4-foot box of books and chairs in the back that I cannot identify. My car has not been cleaned, inside or out, since December 2009. If I were to have sex with my car, I would end up on Discovery Health with 17 unidentifiable viral infections and one magical Indonesian STD.

I have no idea what a clean car would even resemble. If I throw an empty cup in the backseat, it’s as good as black-holed, because I’ll never see that bitch again. I don’t even think my Jeep is all that dirty until I know Adrian will be driving it. At that point, I have a panic attack akin to a 16-year-old boy learning that his mom checked his browser history. OH GOD NO DON’T TOUCH THAT NO NONONONO.

Ever get that sinking feeling when you know you’ve been busted? That’s me, every time Adrian drives my car with napkins on his hands.

It’s Unrelated To Dicks, I Think, But We’ll See What Therapy Says

Think of your favorite food–that one that will bring you unbridled joy and a few granted wishes for poor children.

For me, that’s pickles. I love pickles for all occasions. I have special Turkish pickles that are only available at one store in all of Dallas, I have everyday Vlasic, I have Spicy Pickles for beer times, and several other here-and-there varieties. Until recently, I was forced to eat them in the dark corners of my home like a feral child hides a kitten, trying to mask that distinct crunching noise from my husband.

Why? I have, at present, 5 different jars of pickles in my fridge. I had 9, but Adrian busted me when me moved and forcibly removed 4 jars from my custody on the grounds that they were poorly cared for.

He doesn’t know that pickles keep well out of the fridge right now, and that I’m re-stocking myself in our storage unit on the 9th floor. I will not be defeated.

That Was A Seizure You Saw, Dear.

For every single occasion, I have a dance. I have a dance for when I’m cold, I have a hungry dance, I have a tired dance, I have a shower dance, and I have a Fuck-You dance. I’m the saddest, whitest, most stereotypical Native American ever.

Thing is, until very recently, these dances were very, very private. I tried hard for many years to hide my naked shower rug Charleston (the bath dance) and my milk jug and cheese twirling number (the dairy dance). Yet, like so many marriages have been ruined, Adrian walked in and saw me air humping with my earbuds in and only underpants on with a couple of steak knives in my fists (the happy dance.) I stood, mostly nude in the hallway, pretty horrified that after 4 years, I was finally busted.

He didn’t stop laughing for a week. Dick.

What do you never want your spouse to see you do? Have you ever been busted doing something embarrassing?

Favorite Comment From The Last Post:
From Dani: “Every single fiber of my being doesn’t want to find this funny, because it couldn’t be LESS PC. Seriously. HOWEVER… After spending 16 years as a Behavior Therapist for children with severe Autism, I have to say that THIS SHIT IS FUNNY. The long van blog was freaking hilarious because I can relate to just about every single thing, up to and (unfortunately) including the poop-catching. (I spent a summer trying to potty train a sneaky pooper. It was like freaking The Fugitive. Every time I turned my back for one second he left a pile of poop somewhere OTHER than the toilet. Good times, y’all… good fucking times.) You have to laugh because THIS IS LIFE.”

 

Handflapper November 14, 2011 at 1:27 am

Hm. I honestly cannot think of anything I’d care if my husband saw me doing since he is at least a thousand times more disgusting than I could ever try to be. I mean, the man has crapped on me! Literally! I sympathize with your husband about the car. My husband has been driving mine for a week (also a Jeep, coincidentally) and I’m pretty sure I will divorce him when I get it back on grounds of irreconcilable filthiness.
Handflapper recently posted..You know how sometimes something starts out to be one thing and then becomes something else entirely? Yeah. That. Also, this is the post that was supposed to happen. Not that other one. That other one was a mistake. Not that they’re not all mistakes, in their way. But this was an unintentional mistake. Oh, fuck. Never mind.

Noa November 15, 2011 at 12:30 pm

I’m not allowed to bring drinks in to Adrian’s car when I have to drive it because each and every time, I’ll spill it on the seats. I never do in my car, but in his? That iced tea won’t make it out of the garage.

Alicia November 14, 2011 at 1:40 am

Hah! This brought so much joy to me! I love your jeep…and I loved the tape. Turkish pickles (needs to be on a shirt). My future husband doesn’t need to know anything I do…I won’t even let him know my name. I’ll be like Angelina Jolie in every single movie she’s ever played in but with A lot less sexy and more mysteries assault weapons.

Noa November 15, 2011 at 12:34 pm

I feel a scene coming from just that last sentence there.

Becca_Masters November 14, 2011 at 1:41 am

Your happy dance is done is your underwear with Steak knives?!? Just brilliant. That’s got me laughing my ass off this morning!!

Noa November 15, 2011 at 12:35 pm

Hooray! And yes, it does involve knives. I’m no longer allowed near them in the nude.

Brandon Smith November 14, 2011 at 1:43 am

So first, holy crapballs. Noa if I weren’t gay or you weren’t a woman and of course if Adrian weren’t in the picture I’d probably propose to you sight unseen. Not because I think you’re probably some hot Hooters model in camel toe inducing orange hot pants (though you might actually be which because I said I was gay does absolutely nothing for me, sorry). But because of your car. See now I don’t feel so bad. I came from one of those families that washed/waxed/vacuumed and did God knows what other weird things to their vehicles Every. Single. Weekend. So anyway… then I married (or as close to married as I could get without screwing my independence…. always leave an out I say) this one guy who thinks washing his car means watching the weather forecast (which here in California means it always has a layer of dirt on it that makes most petrie dish experiments look like an advert for Mr. Clean) and now I’m picking up his habits. Yeah. It sucks and I’m trying out one of those Twelve step programs for it (though I’m still stuck on Step One, Acceptance, simply because I like the new car smell) and it’s all just blowing up in my face.

Wait… what was the question? Oh yeah. I hate for him to see me do Number Two. Seriously. Drives me crazy when he barges in to shave and I’m still dropping the kids off.

Was that too much?
Brandon Smith recently posted..All That Glitters Isn’t Gold … It’s Pink!

Front Desk Ninja November 14, 2011 at 10:51 pm

I love you.
“dropping the kids off” may become my new favourite way to say pooping.
Front Desk Ninja recently posted..What.The.Fuck. Wednesdays

Brandon Smith November 15, 2011 at 12:28 pm

I think the full phrase is dropping the kids off at the pool but I sometimes get tired of typing and that was where it ended :D Happy Tuesday!
Brandon Smith recently posted..All That Glitters Isn’t Gold … It’s Pink!

Cyprium November 15, 2011 at 12:54 am

I find this response fascinatingly ironic. LOVE IT.

Noa November 15, 2011 at 12:43 pm

It’s never too much, dear, it’s never too much.

And I agree–stay the fuck out of the bathroom. That’s one of my non-negotiable “GET THE FUCK OUT” instances.

Brandon Smith November 15, 2011 at 11:36 pm

You know Noa, if I could have “Get the Fuck out” in big sans comic font painted on my bathroom door I totally would. But then my in-laws might not like me too much. Then again they’re the in-laws.
Brandon Smith recently posted..All That Glitters Isn’t Gold … It’s Pink!

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:37 pm

I think you could call it art and that would explain everything. I’ve done that several times. “Oh that sugar skull painting with dicks? Art.”

Non-Crisped Texan November 16, 2011 at 2:41 am

I “fired” a gf that wanted to be paired forever and had even bought embroidered matching towels (without asking me first) for always wanting to invade my showers.

Sorry honey…

Maybe it’s sexy to some people in movies, in real life, I just spent 12-18 hours doing some sucky job I did for money so I could take a shower in peace and sleep indoors, DO NOT INVADE MY ZONING OUT IN THE SHOWER, EVER!

Never was erotic, it was annoying. Actually probably got her laid less than she would have liked. “If I could have just zoned out for ten minute, I could probably give her ten…” But she screwed it up…how come they never put that in mags for the “cosmo readership demographic”?

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:38 pm

It’s in Cosmo, I assure you. They encourage the bitches to jump in to share some soapy sexy time. I’m with you, though–I zone the fuck out in the shower and would really prefer that no one be within 2 miles of me in that time, much less backing an ass up all in my zen.

Abby November 14, 2011 at 6:25 am

I don’t have a spouse, possibly because a) I’m always caught doing embarrassing things I don’t think are embarrassing and b) I don’t want to walk in on anyone doing anything gross like shitting or cutting their toe nails.
Abby recently posted..You Get What You Give

Noa November 15, 2011 at 12:45 pm

I have a locked bathroom idea that my husband, after several years, has JUST NOW REALIZED is in effect. If I’m doing anything at all in the bathroom, I don’t want you in there. You don’t need to see me dancing to Rhianna with spanx on while putting on a 3rd coat of mascara.

Mandi E. November 14, 2011 at 6:44 am

My husband and I have a single “you cannot see me do this” scenario: dropping a deuce. It’s normal, it’s natural, whatever. Neither of us wants to see it. Of course, that rule will probably be out the window as soon as one of us ends up bed ridden with a broken hip or something. Because nothing screams “enduring love” like being willing to wipe your partner’s ass. Romance isn’t dead. It’s just lost in Noa’s Jeep.
Mandi E. recently posted..And here’s a bonus Fuck-You-Friday follow-up.

Noa November 15, 2011 at 12:47 pm

“Romance isn’t dead. It’s just lost in Noa’s Jeep.”

I found it last night under a pile of Taco Bell mild sauce.

kim November 14, 2011 at 8:28 am

Never, ever be embarrassed about dancing in your panties with a couple of steak knives in your fists! That’s the sexiest thing I’ve heard in a long damn time. In fact, I’m on my way to the kitchen right now.
kim recently posted..Be Gone, Evil Christmas!

Noa November 15, 2011 at 12:48 pm

Adrian found it frightening but mostly hilarious, because I was wearing panties that I’m fairly sure I’ve had since I was in junior high.

Angie Uncovered November 14, 2011 at 8:36 am

Thank you, Noa for restoring my belief that dancing with steak knives is more normal than my therapist says! That is also a great title for a movie.. Dances With Steak Knives. Obviously it would be a sequel, you could work in tatonka and gherkins (it’s more than a relish tray item.. it’s freakin’ side dish).

Hmmm what would I not want my spouse to see me doing (if/when I hobble the man of my dreams)? Toilet time is obvious and doesn’t really count. It’s a toss up between ripping the hair from my girly parts (& the subsequent tears) or the fact that I do a full dance and vocal set when I play Valerie (Ronson/Winehouse not the Zutons).
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Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:00 pm

I would really really like Dances with Steak Knives with Costner as the Antagonist this time, because Lord, he is awful.

I won’t let my husband see me work out because he still hasn’t figured out that “working out” means CRAZY DANCE PARTY TIME.

DogsOnDrugs.com November 14, 2011 at 8:45 am

Holy shitballs, I love anything pickled. Spicy dill pickles! Yes! Pickled hard boiled eggs! Yay! Pickled green tomatoes! Yum! Dammit, now I gotta go to the store.
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Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:01 pm

I’m missing a jar of pickles, and I’m extremely suspicious now.

Jaclyn November 14, 2011 at 8:51 am

Why do they have to be such Nazis about car cleanliness? My husband yells at me every time he get in my car. And I can’t tell you how many times I have to hear “remember that time I found a hamburger under your seat?”. FUCK YOU, GUY. I will leave ALL the hamburgers under my seat, forever and ever, just to spite you. In a related note, last week he needed to make room in my trunk for something and was REALLY annoyed to find the plastic tub full of birthday shit that has been sitting in there since our daughter turned 1… in May.
Jaclyn recently posted..A Pot to Piss In

Mandi E. November 14, 2011 at 9:13 am

My house is pretty much always clean (because I have no kids and a propensity for getting stabby anytime clutter prevents me from putting my feet on the coffee table), but the car is another story. I try to keep my clown car at least semi-clean by keeping a grocery bag in the back seat, but I still have my key box, showing binder, water bottle, jacket, and at least 1 coffee cup at any given time.

Lately, cleanliness has been kind of a necessity being that it’s a Honda Civic and I have to cart people to remote apartment showings. Try doing that when you’ve got 5 people and a backseat full of coke bottles and work supplies. But as soon as showing season is over, fuck all y’all. Embrace my mobile office or GTFO.
Mandi E. recently posted..And here’s a bonus Fuck-You-Friday follow-up.

Brandon Smith November 14, 2011 at 9:28 am

I have four cupholders and more oft then not, all four of them are full. And not with whatever paper cup I just picked up from a fast food joint because I still think it’s easier to stop at the Jack in the Box one mile from my house then to slap some mayo on two pieces of bread because seriously who has time to open the jar anyway? But with relics of drinks past. Like the latte from Monday that still has about an 1/8th of an inch of latte in the bottom but because I hate the sediment I can’t drink.

And then Steve get’s pissed because I make him hold drink Number Five and balance the Sixth in my lap while driving.
Brandon Smith recently posted..All That Glitters Isn’t Gold … It’s Pink!

Jen November 15, 2011 at 12:18 pm

Brandon, my car is a veritable shrine to all things Starbucks and Taco Bell but even I have not mastered the art of filling every cup holder. I bow down to your greatness, my liege.
Jen recently posted..Stupidest Crap Ever Spoken by Me and My Friends: Part 5

Brandon Smith November 15, 2011 at 11:44 pm

Jen – It’s taken many years of practice to get that down. Sadly I actually bought a car based on the number of cup holders (the one before only had two) simply because I know my habits. :D
Brandon Smith recently posted..All That Glitters Isn’t Gold … It’s Pink!

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:40 pm

Recently, Adrian had to get his car repaired, and they gave us a loaner car…with no cupholders. I was devastated.

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:02 pm

Adrian really loved loading our giant christmas tree and all the trimmings around all the boxes of shit I have in the back of my car. We drove home in relative silence.

Dani November 14, 2011 at 9:55 am

My husband must never know that behind closed doors, when he’s sleeping or working, I am actually busy growing a motherfucking goatee. I spend more time obsessing about hairs that seem to spring out overnight on my chin and upper lip than I do about almost anything else.

I have a special pair of tweezers that are used only for the purpose of yanking long, white, wiry hairs out of my chin, neck and wherever the hell else they decide to grow.

If my husband ever caught me plucking, I would have to kill him.
Dani recently posted..Adventures in Awesomeness

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:04 pm

I wish hair issues were more private ’round my house, but Adrian’s eastern european and they’re all known for crazy body hair. Love my sunday front row seats to that event.

Jaime November 14, 2011 at 9:57 am

I share your dirty car …. if not for the fact that I was parking my Jeep at my dads house for the duration of the school year, I don’t think it would have been cleaned since I owned it. My bf used to give me a strange look every time we had to ride in my Jeep.. a look that said, “you dirty bastard”

and yay for happy dances…. I love me a good happy dance. I’ve been able to hide it from the bf thus far….. I’m hoping it stays that way.
Jaime recently posted..Conversations with my Vagina

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:05 pm

Don’t count on that dance being hidden for too long. Eventually, he’ll think it’s cute, and then you’ll find clandestine videos of you doing the crazy dances on his phone.

Mrs. B. November 14, 2011 at 10:18 am

You really do not even know dirty vehicle until you’ve hauled two dogs in various degrees of wetness, muddiness, skunk-sprayediness, and sheddingness around for 6 months before the stench and hair finally get to you enough to do something about it. You can’t even fucking see out of 4 of my back windows due to dog snot and slobber. When I open the windows, I get little hair tornadoes swirling around. Oh, and when it’s hot outside and the Jeep (god, do all of us own Jeeps?!?) has been baking in the sun with the windows up? Shit, you can probably smell that thing a block away when I open the door.

Just for spite, and if I was made of money, I’d take the thing in somewhere and have it detailed just to see the horrified look on their faces.

I don’t care if Mr B finds my car hideous. All I care about is if he moves the seats and mirrors, he’d better put them back the way they were.
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Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:06 pm

My truck is bad, but my sister’s? GODDAMN. Grace is a vet, so she has a mountain of smelly and mostly unidentifiable crap all over her truck. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be grossed out more.

Adrian takes my car to be detailed once a year, and he gives them a 100% tip every single time. Dick.

lisa November 14, 2011 at 10:28 am

I love the idea you have a dance for every occasion. That is just plain kick ass.

The thing that I tried to hide from my hubby for years was, farting. I know we all do it, but apparently I must have been traumatized as a child because I have a thing about farting in front of people. I still remember the first time one snuck out in front of the hubs. We were on a trip to Dallas and were getting ready in our hotel room for a fancy business dinner thing. I was helping him with his tie and a little fart eeked out. It made a popping noise like a piece of popcorn. He immediately called me out on it and made fun of me the rest of the trip by doing impressions of the fart. Bastard.
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Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:08 pm

My first relationship fart was in Target, and I have never, ever lived it down. He, however, crop dusts regularly.

Lana November 15, 2011 at 1:44 pm

What is it about Target?!?!

Jen November 15, 2011 at 1:48 pm

Target is a magical wonderland of awesomeness. I could happily live there, roller skating down the aisles to a Betty Boo song like Jennifer Connelly.
Jen recently posted..Stupidest Crap Ever Spoken by Me and My Friends: Part 5

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:41 pm

I think, secretly, Target is a terrorist organization designed to trap women like sticky paper. It works, every fucking time.

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:41 pm

SHUT THE FUCK UP, LANA. YOU’RE THE ONE WITH THE TARGET ISSUES.

Lana November 18, 2011 at 4:49 am

Yeah I do miss you alot when I’m there.

Andi November 14, 2011 at 11:03 am

The Hubs and I are separated at birth twins, finally back together. We’re both disgusting trolls and our cars and house prove the point, again and again. The only reason we hire housekeepers is because it forces us to get our shit together at least once a month and keeps us off Hoarders.

We won’t poop in front of each other, but that’s about it. He’s seen my happy dance, he’s seen me talk to myself in the bathroom mirror (complete with hand gestures), he’s seen me pop out three crotch fruit and — here’s how you know it’s true love — he even shaved my pubes when I was too pregnant to reach down there. That’s a keeper, ladies and gents.
Andi recently posted..Sci Fi Sunday

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:10 pm

On the occasion we ever have children, Adrian has requested to wait in the waiting room. I have also requested this, because I don’t want to see it either.

They tell me it doesn’t work this way.

Kissowa November 14, 2011 at 11:24 am

Me and my husband are quite open in front of each other. We fart and the blame the elusive “fart ghost” that follows around everywhere and then we laugh our asses off. And people say we’re strange, I don’t get it.

But anything and everything done in the bathroom is off limits. There will be no brushing your teeth while I’m in the shower and no shaving while I sit on the toilet. That shit is gross. And by shit I mean used toothpaste and tiny beard-hair flying around, of course.
Kissowa recently posted..5 things that will make me leave your blog

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:13 pm

My husband now blames the dog for every fart ever, even though the frequency of ass-gas has not increased at all since we got her. I wish we had a fart ghost.

Jen November 14, 2011 at 12:01 pm

Between my slovenly short people and my overwhelmingly high level of “don’t-give-a-shitness” my car looks like a family of Vietnamese refugees have been squatting in the backseat. I’m quite sure you could assemble a four-course meal from the many and varied food scraps wedged between the cushions. Mmmm. . .stale Goldfish Crackers. . .

As for things I don’t want my spouse to see that’s (thankfully) no longer an issue. I am, however, enjoying having my ‘was-band’ watch me buy a home and earn my PhD this year while he declares bankruptcy after his third divorce. SUCK IT, Loser!
Jen recently posted..I Didn’t Die Last Week…Which is Nice.

Cyprium November 15, 2011 at 1:03 am

I love it – I refer to my former as my wusband. :) You are awesome and your post almost got me fired for laughing in a customer’s ear. (In a really inappropriate time when I should have been empathetic to their pain)

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:15 pm

Wusband.

Amazing.

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:14 pm

Jen…are there Vietnamese refugees in your car? Don’t fucking lie.

Jen November 15, 2011 at 1:17 pm

Just a few. But I make them earn their keep shooting out ping pong balls and sewing clothes for Kathie Lee Gifford.
Jen recently posted..Stupidest Crap Ever Spoken by Me and My Friends: Part 5

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:44 pm

I read that in a racist asian accent and laughed my dick off.

Dana the Biped November 14, 2011 at 12:09 pm

I use my filthy car as an excuse to never be the designated driver. Also, as a place to keep all the embarrassing things I don’t want The Squeeze to know I have, like the top hat with bunny ears, the cyclops eye, and tampons.
Dana the Biped recently posted..A Way with Words and Teeth

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:16 pm

I will be needing a photo of all said car dirtiness contraband because I need to purchase a cyclops eye.

ColinP November 14, 2011 at 12:22 pm

Frankly I would be a little terrified that your “happy” dance involved steak knives, that is of course if it didn’t include a tasty steak…
ColinP recently posted..And then there was rage…

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:24 pm

There was no meat nearby. I was just really happy.

Mamy November 14, 2011 at 12:32 pm

The “Mommy Bus” is a complete disaster 99% of the time. My little way of ensuring that no burglar will think twice about breaking into it! I’m also set if we get stuck out in the boondocks during a snowstorm or armageddon arrive while traveling! Glad I’m not the only one thinking ahead!
The husband is in the dark about my blog stalking. “doing laudry” is code for surfing my favorite blogs with a jar of peanut butter and a spoon!
Mamy recently posted..I Would Make an Excellent POTUS

Noa November 15, 2011 at 1:26 pm

“working out” is my code for “NOW IS THE TIME WHEN WE DANCE”.

4 years, and he’s still not on to me.

Carrie - Cannibalistic Nerd November 14, 2011 at 1:29 pm

I lecture people in the mirror. I give impassioned speeches convincing all naysayers and disagreers that I’m right and they’re stupid. I tell off family members and coworkers. I get all up in my own face, finger pointing, telling imagined nemesis how all this bullshit will play out and what the consequences are. Sometimes I accept awards, but mostly, it’s lecturing.

Someday, I’ll forget to close the bathroom door and I’ll be caught, finger wagging, bobbing my head back and forth, whispering to myself where to get off – and then I’ll hear the laughing behind me.
Carrie – Cannibalistic Nerd recently posted..Disney survey from the Future! The roast futurebeast was delicious, thank you for asking.

Dani November 14, 2011 at 2:10 pm

*about to share a deep, dark. humiliating secret, under cover of darkness and blogosphere anonymity* I used to video myself in the privacy of my car while sitting in an empty parking lot at the beach telling people off to see what I look like when I’m all inyoface and self-righteous, to make sure I looked appropriately bitchy and menacing. And also? Because in person, I’m beyond non-confrontational and a huge wimp. There’s probably a youtube video of me video-taping myself telling off imaginary assholes.

I so totally rock.
Dani recently posted..Those three little words…

Carrie - Cannibalistic Nerd November 14, 2011 at 6:09 pm

I think that’s why I do it, too. I don’t tell people off, I don’t really even get angry in person. But, if there ever comes a time when I DO need to angrily tell someone off, I don’t want to look like an amateur.

I promise if I ever found that video, I wouldn’t ever share it.
Carrie – Cannibalistic Nerd recently posted..Disney survey from the Future! The roast futurebeast was delicious, thank you for asking.

Monica November 14, 2011 at 9:42 pm

I love you so much. Please don’t be afraid. I won’t stalker out on you.
Monica recently posted..Why my friends shouldn’t leave me alone with their children

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:48 pm

She lies.

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:47 pm

Dani.

You’re sitting on a fucking goldmine.

Andi November 14, 2011 at 4:23 pm

THIS. That’s exactly what I do. Sometimes I lecture, sometimes I explain, sometimes I just pontificate. The Hubs has caught me any number of times. Fortunately, he’s more perplexed than amused.
Andi recently posted..Sci Fi Sunday

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:50 pm

Adrian’s getting too quick with his camera lately. I’ve had to cut way down.

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:45 pm

@Carrie: Adrian’s totally caught me doing that. We have since moved to a house with locks on the doors.

Misty November 14, 2011 at 2:15 pm

The hubs has a Jeep that is in such disarray, I’m not even sure it qualifies as an actual vehicle anymore. It is an old piece of crap, and it is so old and crappy, he doesn’t even bother zipping the windows up anymore, even in rain or snow. He’s basically daring anyone to steal that mutha. When he drives my car, he leaves all sorts of shit on the backseat floor, because that is apparently just one big open trashcan. Then the next day I am hauling out all his shit from my car. He is a total mess.

Things I don’t want him to see me doing: shaving, showering, dressing, getting ready in the morning as I stand naked at the mirror for an hour, anything involving a toilet. He basically is not allowed to see me naked in bright light. Sexy time is one thing, but then it’s all darkish and more touching than looking. After 2 kids, my body is a landscape of post pregnancy delights, and nobody needs to view that with direct light shining all up on it. It is not sexy at all. So, yeah. All of that.
Misty recently posted..Retail Therapy

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:51 pm

Adrian offered to buy me a new jeep the other day, before I pointed out I’d just dirty the fuck outta that one, too.

Dirtycowgirl November 14, 2011 at 3:19 pm

What’s that saying…that you should dance like nobody’s watching and fuck like you’re being filmed.. carry on I say.

This does remind me of the time I was getting ready for a date with a fairly new fella and was upstairs with bleach on my moustache and in trackies and a vest top – no bra (and I need the scaffolding) and belly protruding over the top of the trousers.
My friend had rang and said she was on her way round, she was lending me something for that night, so I had left the door open for her.
Meanwhile the new fella decided to pop in on his way home from work – can’t remember why – I just remember hearing the door go, shouting “I’m up here” and his face as he walked in my room.
Dirtycowgirl recently posted..i wish i hadn’t heard that

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:53 pm

I live in a high-rise. I’m pretty sure the people across from me are filming me. It’s cool–I can see them, too.

Well now I’ve given myself anxiety again.

Kelly November 14, 2011 at 3:46 pm

We are pretty open around these parts. He’s seen my internal organs during my c-section, he occasionally sees me pee because we have a toddler who can get the door open and a bathroom door that doesn’t lock. He’s even seen me barf on his feet, which was a combination of awesome and humiliation.

What I do hide from him is the fact that I’m usually the one who eats the “last something” and blames it on the kid. If he only knew… muahahahaha.
Kelly recently posted..If I were Catholic, I’d be Sister Mary Buzzkill.

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:57 pm

I had this big old comment all planned out, and then I read your last post title and lost my shit, Sister Mary Buzzkill.

Gia November 14, 2011 at 5:05 pm

So, I talk to myself. Well, not exactly “talk” because no words come out, but I mouth to myself and make crazy facial expressions as I’m acting out whatever it is I’m mouthing. I’m usually having a conversation with a real and/or imaginary person, so I’m mouthing their responses, too.

Occasionally, I get busted. Yes, it’s super embarrassing. It happened at work recently, where I was turning the corner and stealthy coworker popped up out of nowhere and BAM saw me making weird faces and mouthing something incomprehensible. Ugh. Can’t let Boyfriend catch me doing that.
Gia recently posted..Chronicles of Useless McGee: Ribbons

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:58 pm

I suddenly feel so very very normal because I FUCKING DO THIS TOO.

addgirl November 14, 2011 at 5:57 pm

after being together 10 years, the only thing i don’t share with my husband is putting on nylons or spanks, and blow drying my hair, all doubled over.
addgirl recently posted..reason # 82 why I am going crazy

Noa November 17, 2011 at 1:59 pm

Adrian is weirdly protective of me when I turn on the blow dryer because once I bent over really fast while I was blow drying and knocked myself out cold.

Noa November 17, 2011 at 2:00 pm

I hit my head on the toilet, for clarification. I didn’t just whoosh so fast that my mind zipped out of consciousness.

Cyprium November 15, 2011 at 1:20 am

As far as driving a mobile trash compactor, I do not do that. I am hella uptight about my car being clean and not containing a shit-ton of debris. I have seen the after effects of what happens in an accident like that. Allow me to enlighten you :
I have two sisters. One is older, one is younger. The older sister has always had her car in a similar state as you all describe yours. (Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t judge – live how you want, drive what you want, and surround yourself with your collection of everything you ever put in your car…enjoy) Little sister also seems to like to travel with all of the spoils of war with fast food places and other shit she picks up here and there. I can not grasp this concept.

So…little sister borrows older sister’s mobile trash compactor. She is then in a roll-over accident. Now, the actual roll-over caused little sister no harm, it was being tumbled like a river rock in a polisher that fucked her up and caused the majority of her injuries. She described the effect of rolling over and over in the car like swinging a bucket of water. All of the debris inside the car stayed put…until the car came to rest on its roof. She said that then, the mounds of shit started to come loose from its position in the floorboards, and seats, and cup holders, etc as if in slow motion and then it all managed to be magnetically pulled to her like a comet entering the atmosphere.

My most distinct memory of this ‘crisis’ was in the emergency room, when the nurse pulled a piece of a french fry out of her ear. While the mood was somber due to the nature of the situation, NO ONE was straight faced after that. I mean COME ON! A french fry lodged in your ear has to be the most fucked up think to respond with when someone says, “Oh, you were in an accident? Did you get hurt?”

As for the thing that my husband absolutely can not see me do…I can never let him see me blow my nose. He can’t know that I have boogers. Ever. I would rather suck them back up and risk a brain infection before that could ever happen. I don’t ever want to see him blow his nose either. ick.

Noa November 17, 2011 at 2:01 pm

I would have loved to see that accident. It might have defied the laws of physics.

Alli November 15, 2011 at 10:30 am

My ex husband once busted into the bathroom when I was taking a shower, insisting that he had to Poop Right Then. Couldn’t even give me 30 seconds to rinse the conditioner out and flee, and was frustratingly unwilling to go knock on the neighbors’ door.

So there I stood, in a steamy, hot bathroom, while he took an absurdly aromatic dump. I wasn’t willing to get out of the shower and actually see him on the toilet, and the bathroom was so small I might not have been able to open the door with him there anyway. Traumatizing.

It was then that I decided that there must be one bathroom per person in a house.
Alli recently posted..1-800-RAGE

Noa November 17, 2011 at 2:01 pm

I lock the door now, because Adrian tried that once and the ass-chewing that ensued was enough to frighten him for years. More than once I’ve sent him to the building lobby bathroom because I was in the shower.

Wendy November 15, 2011 at 11:37 am

I HAD a husband but then he caught me singing along to really horrible disco and so, yeah, I had to relieve him of his husbandly duties. Now, once the kids are at school, I can be the disco queen I never had the nerve to be in the 1970s when I was all heavy metal hard ass.
Wendy recently posted..Everyone wants a piece of me

Noa November 17, 2011 at 2:02 pm

I pray each day that Adrian will never see me “working out” for just such reasons.

Kella November 15, 2011 at 8:14 pm

Holy mother of fuck, I don’t think I’ve come so close to peeing in my pants since I was young enough to get away with the potty dance.

Which may or may not have vaguely resembled a spastic miming a horse while dropping acid…
Kella recently posted..Demand to speak to life’s manager!

Noa November 17, 2011 at 2:03 pm

I can’t, try as I might, imagine that scenario in my head. Goddamn I want to, though.

elizabeth- flourishinprogress December 1, 2011 at 5:35 pm

Oh gawd. The horror. Harv once caught me with my contact lens in my mouth. It fell out and I didn’t want it to dry out so I put it in my mouth. It seemed like a really good idea at the time.
elizabeth- flourishinprogress recently posted..Monday Dare: This one may kill me. Nice knowing you.

Noa December 4, 2011 at 8:48 pm

Thankfully, Adrian hasn’t caught me doing that yet, but he did walk in on my using a neti pot Tuesday. Lovely.

Melodie February 19, 2013 at 1:45 pm

Ah yes, I’ll never forget the day when I realized my parents can hear me ranting to myself in the bathroom, but just never say anything about it.

A friend was over and we were alone in the house, so I excused myself to my bathroom (that happens to be upstairs) to pee, but also to rant to myself in the mirror for 10 minutes about various minutia. About 5 minutes in I can hear her laughing at something so I stick my head out the door and call down the stairs to ask what’s so funny, and she proceeds to tell me she can hear me almost clear as a bell all the way down to my living room. Which means that when I come out of my room to go into the bathroom to rant, and my stepdad is on the computer in the next room, he can totally hear me. That was a humiliating experience. Doesn’t stop me from doing it though.

As for cars, my little Honda’s pretty alright; I never leave food in him (yes my car has a gender okay; his name is Tatsuma. Don’t judge me), but I can collect a MOUNTAIN of empty water bottles if left unattended.

My aforementioned friend’s Toyota (his name is Akira), on the other hand? Watching her clean him out is like watching a 50-year hoarder’s intervention. She practically lives out of her car, even though she has a perfectly functional bed at home, there’s clothes and pillows and food and electronics and God knows what else in there. Her car is a 5-seater but can only hold about 2 passangers at a time because of all the crap piled everywhere. Shit’s crazy y’all.

Also I dance in the kitchen when I have my earbuds in and I’m making food. Pretty sure that’s the only time though. Silence bugs me. So does standing still.

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