If you really want to irritate your soulmate, here is Tip #3457 from Maddogg’s Book of Irritations.
Ask her out for a romantic Italian dinner at her favorite ristorante Italia.
Everything is normal as you anxiously prepare for a fun evening out until…
As soon as you walk through the doors and approach the hostess stand to get your table, start acting and talking like an Italian peasant farmer, with broken English and adorable attempts (and failures) to pronounce simple English words and phrases.
When you first do it, she will smile and maybe even chuckle, shaking her head at your zaniness.
By the time you are ready to order tiramisu and expresso, she is ready to kill.
Evidently, my zaniness is not that adorable.
Now, what separates me from mere mortals on the subject of spousal irritation is that, we will go home, she’ll give me shit about how old are you, blah, blah, blah and we may even have more words over it to let her get it out of her system.
Then, when we wake up, I yawn, stretch, throw my legs over the side of the bed, and look her straight in the eyes and ask, “how-a-you Americanos-a- say I’m-a-hungry-and-a-thirsty?”
If you’re lucky, she’ll realize you are just fucking with her, but you will probably still probably get The Look.
You know which one.
Wait until next date night and the drunk French aristocrat who will be her escort….
You KNOW it’s bad when you have to have Nikki Minaj bail out your embarrassing flop of a music festival.
I had no idea she could sing and as for her music….no earthly.
I thought her whole act consisted of her just standing there in one of her revealing outfits, showing off that healthy body of hers.
And I would have been more than fine with that, actually.
(this is where the Domestic Despot thumps me on the head and calls me a pig)
Watching the greatest comeback in NBA Finals history tonight was what makes sports such a special part of our lives.
Unbelievable comeback by the New York Knickerbockers.
I truly believe the young uber-talented team from San Antonio learned a crucial lesson tonight, but it just may have cost them the championship.
I’d better get the sauce Bordelaise ready for the words I said I’d eat when I all but buried the Knicks and branded them big choke artists after losing the highly-anticipated game three on Monday night.
Gulp!
The odds of the Spurs now beating the Knicks three straight games to win the title have to be huge even though two of the three remaining games are in San Antonio.
When I first heard the “Knicks in six” chants, I thought that to be a bit overly-sanguine.
Turns out, my MENSA IQ temporarily abandoned me again on that one.
As a fan without a horse in the race, I would love to see a seven-game series, but we shall see…
I’ll talk to you on Friday.
Stay well.
