"I sure do." Marriage: Year One.

Happy Fuzzy Bunny Love, and why it's terrible.

2006-12-04T23:54:00.000-05:00

One thing that I think a guy getting married may overlook is the sheer amount of time he'll be spending with his future wife. Sure, he may look at her and say to himself "I want to spend the rest of my life with this woman." He may even go slightly more specific and think "I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with this woman." But what I'm sure few men ask is "Do I want to spend every minute of every day of the rest of my life with this woman?" And that's a shame, because it's something to be considered.

I've been in a bad mood for most of the past 23 years, and pre-marriage it was pretty easy to just lock the door and ignore people, but now I've got a wife to contend with. And I'll be damned, this never fails, the second I'm in a bad mood she wants to cuddle. The upshot here is that I do actually love the girl, so if I just give in chances are I end up in a better mood, or get some sex, or both.

The other day when I was either in a bad mood over something specific or just being a mopey bastard for no reason whatsoever Steph wanted to cuddle so cuddle we did. I think we were laying in bed, but I don't really remember. Then she called me on the fact that the hard-drive on my computer is named "Seppuku" which is the Japanese named for ritualistic suicide. Steph apparently found this a little creepy, which I guess it could be, but in my defense there's a reason for it. Before the drive got in my computer it was used to store files during the editing process of my film Several Ways to Die Trying. In the movie the main character who's trying to kill himself has a pet hedgehog named Seppuku.

This explanation didn't seem to appease Steph so later that day when she wasn't looking I changed the name of the drive to "Happy Fuzzy Bunny Love" to help convince her I wasn't going to cut my insides out with a samurai sword, and because I was experiencing a cuddle-related lift in mood.

So, my mood had improved. The hard drive was named something less likely to worry my wife, and all was right with the world so I went to bed. Sort of. I couldn't sleep so I stayed up until three or four playing Monopoly online before finally being able to pass out.

But the thing about being married is that you're on-call all the time. So at either 4:30 or 5:30 I get woken up to the sound of Steph typing, which usually happens around 7 or 8 and I roll over and ignore it. This time was different. Despite the ridiculous time of morning this typing was accompanied with Steph's "The computer's doing something I don't understand please come help me" noise that I still haven't decided if she makes intentionally or not. So at some ridiculous time of morning I found myself helping my wife with a website she has to design for a class. She figured she couldn't sleep anyway, she may as well get something useful done.

After a brief fight about the situation I went over to help her. She was panicking because the computer told her it couldn't find any of her files, and she thought they had somehow disappeared.

They didn't. The computer was looking for Seppuku but all it found was 230 gigs of Happy Fuzzy Bunny Love and had no idea what to do with it. Like most things I do to try to make Steph happy this backfired, and I was awake at 5am renaming my hard drive to the Japanese word for ritualistic suicide to make my wife happy, even though the day before she complained about the same thing.

The moral of the story is that offing yourself with a samurai sword is better than Happy Fuzzy Bunny Love.

Epilogue:

After re-renaming the drive I went to sleep out on the couch. The couch is fairly comfortable, but it's no bed so I tend to wake up once in a while when I sleep there. I woke up a few times, and every time I did I saw Steph staring at me and smiling. This made waking up at 5 in the morning to fix a computer problem I caused and fighting about it completely worth it.

Why DID I get married?

2006-11-26T18:50:00.000-05:00

The other day at work I was leaning against the bar and spinning my wedding ring. Then out of nowhere a girl I work with asked "So why'd you get married?"

I didn't know what to say. Not because I don't have any reasons for getting married, but because it's hard to pick one. Besides the obvious one, but... "I don't supposed 'Love' is the answer you're looking for." I said. Knowing full well that this particular individual is jaded well beyond the point of love ever being a possibility.

"No, I mean really." She replied. Pleading for a "real" answer. "I mean, she wasn't knocked up or anything?" She added.

"No, but I could see why you'd think that." I said it even though I had no idea why she would think that. Except that I live in a town that still holds shotgun weddings.

I could have given her a speech about wanting to spend the rest of my life with Steph, about wanting kids with her, about always knowing that she'll be there when I wake up, but she was looking for something practical, and I know full well that digging the hell out of Steph and not wanting to die alone aren't particularly practical.

"We've been dating off and on since high school, so... you know." I told her, adding "And she had health insurance."

Nothing's more practical than a $15 co-pay.

Saying, "My wife."

2006-11-12T12:12:00.000-05:00

When you're married to someone it's inevitable that you'll at some point have to talk about them with other people. The other person will ask you something like "Do you know anyone who's a librarian." And if you're married to a librarian you say "My wife's a librarian."

As it turns out, this is when you get accused of loving to say "My wife". Do I love to say "My wife"? No. Not especially. I don't dislike it, but whenever I say it the person I say it to replies "You really love saying that, don't you?"

NO! I don't! You asked! How else do I describe her? I can't say "Steph" unless you know her already, and most of the time you don't! She is my wife! Do you think I'm trying to rub it in that I'm married? I'm not. If that's what I wanted to do I'd say "my hot wife" Which, yes, I do say on occasion and for that reason.

What are you kidding?

2006-11-02T22:25:00.000-05:00

My friend just told me he can get Steph a freelance writing job to blog about married life.

I know! What the hell.

I'm happy for her, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm jealous about it.

Maybe her first entry can be about her husband's insecurities as a writer and as a human being.

If you need me I'll be sulking and trying to be happier for my wife than I am sorry for myself.

Marital Voting.

2006-10-24T10:43:00.000-04:00

My wife and I borrowed her father's truck to pick up furniture the other day, and when we got in and started it up a talk radio show was on. At first it was some European man talking about cheese and I wondered why my father-in-law was listening to this. Then someone else started talking about how voting for a Democrat empowers terrorists and I knew exactly why he was listening to it.

"We need to figure out who we're voting for." I told my wife.

"What?" She asked.

"Well if we're voting for different people we cancel each other out. If that's what we're doing then I'll save myself a trip to the firehouse."

So if you're married you should mutually agree on who to vote for. Not for any deep political reason or to make your vote count more, but really just as a time management issue. If you're voting for Idiot #1 and your wife's voting for Idiot #2 then you don't really have to wake up early to go vote before work.

Unless, of course, your wife is trying to trick you. She might say "Well I was voting for Idiot #2 so you might as well not even go vote for Idiot #1 because then what's the point?" But then she'll go vote anyway. That's why this only works if you're married. You already have to trust the person you're married to on a lot of counts. Like not murdering you when you're asleep. So I guess you can trust them to vote for the right idiot come election day.

*This post was paid for by the commitee to get Bill Tickle to run for President.

The Remote.

2006-10-17T11:06:00.000-04:00

If you've seen any sit-com ever then you know that married couples are supposed to fight over the remote. I'm supposed to want to watch "the big game" during the same time some sappy chick flick that Steph wants to watch is on.

This has never happened.

I only watch the Stanley Cup finals, and if I miss them I don't so much care. I'm also more likely to want to watch a sappy chick flick than Steph.

However...

If you're getting married or considering moving in with someone, romantically or not, keep in mind that if you only have one TV things will come up. This isn't major, and so far no fights have broken out over what to watch, but the fact of the matter is that one episode of America's Next Top Model is too many, but I've seen a few because we only have one TV and Steph, for reasons I can't begin to understand, loves that show.

I'm sure there's things she watches with me that she doesn't understand. In fact, a lot of things. When I watch cartoons she just stares at me. All I can say in my defense is that none of the cartoons have to listen to criticism from Tyra Banks.

The only thing we really watch together is The Daily Show.

Things that we watch usually don't air at the same time so that's not really an issue, and when it is we tape one and watch the other later.

Having two TVs would solve all this, but I actually like not having a TV in my bedroom, and that's the only other room in the apartment. Oh well. There's always Youtube.com (now gloriously owned by Google)

Dating Sex vs. Married Sex

2006-09-25T10:19:00.001-04:00

DISCLAIMER #1: I did promise my wife I wouldn't go into details about our sex life. That said, we are married, and if you can't connect the dots and realize that means we're sleeping together then you aren't smart enough to be reading this... and quite possibly not smart enough to read at all.

DISCLAIMER #2: This one is for my parents, all of them, regular and in-law. I'll be honest, you probably want to skip this one, guys. The moms at least. Dads, I don't know. It's up to you. I don't see how Steph's dad would want to read this, but he did pose the question "How was last night?" the morning after the wedding, so he clearly understands that I'm humping his daughter, and he's even comfortable enough with the idea to bring it up over coffee. Anyway, if you were responsible for the birth of myself or my wife use your own discretion here.

Here we go with the real post:

You still have sex after you're married. At least 5 months in. I've seen sit-coms before, so I know the whole "Married people never have sex anymore" myth. Maybe 30 years down the line it'll taper off, but I've been married for less than a year, hell less than half a year, but regardless people feel the need to bring up this topic when they find out I'm married.

Here's the typical conversation.

Me: "Oh, my wife blah blah blah blah." (The specifics here don't matter. Just that I bring up my wife.)

Them: "You're married?"

Me: "That's what me saying 'my wife' would imply, yeah."

Them: "Wait, how old are you?"

Me: "23." (although I had a dream last night that I turned 24 and my grandparents were walking me to school.)

Them: "Isn't that a little young to be getting married."

Me: "Pretty obviously not.

Them: "Is it true that when you get married you don't really have sex a lot?"

Me: "No."

Them: "Oh, cuz I heard you don't."

Me: "How often do you have sex with someone other than yourself? Wait, ya know what, I don't care. Just know that I get laid more often than you."

The problem with this is that I'm almost always stuck in this conversational hellpit with some young single guy who for some reason thinks that the second he gets married that's it for his sex life. Well, how good is your sex life now? You're 20. You maybe drunkenly hook up with some fat girl at a party once a week.

I mean, sure. Eventually we're not going to be having sex as often, but even so, look at the averages here. Single guys can go years without getting laid. (This sad fact is proven time and time again by several of my friends.) So go with a few times a week for the first few years of marriage versus... once a month- maybe, for a single cat.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that, single guys, I'm having way more sex than you are. Yeah, that's right. An entire post to prove the point that I have more sex than you.

Dating Sex vs. Married Sex

2006-09-25T10:19:00.000-04:00

The Ring.

2006-08-01T12:56:00.000-04:00

I don't know that I ever put the story of how Steph and I got engaged up here. I know I wrote it at one point, but it may have been on the old site. Regardless, here it is:

The night I knew I wanted to marry Steph Rath she was dating another guy, and I had recently broken up with a girl who informed me she wanted to be with someone else. She had no one specific in mind, just not me. And she told me about this by kissing some other guy.

I was visiting Steph and some other friends at Ramapo to see if I wanted to transfer there. I stopped by her dorm room and as soon as she opened the door I could tell she was upset. After a few minutes of feigning happiness she finally admitted she was upset because her boyfriend was hanging out with another girl that night and left an away message that read "Always been a sucker for a brown-eyed punk rock girl". The fact that the girl he was talking about wasn't Steph drove her to tears.

I wanted to make her feel better. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to kick the guy's ass. I just wanted to do something. I gave her an awkward you're-someone-else's-girlfriend hug and that's when I knew I wanted to marry her, because I didn't want her crying over anyone else but me.

When the semester ended and we were both home again we went diner hopping with a group of friends to celebrate making it through our first semester of college, and to celebrate that Steph broke up with her boyfriend earlier that day. After making the rounds to all the local diners we wound up back at Steph's house to watch a movie. I don't remember which movie, because I was mostly just watching her. During the movie I wasn't watching I developed an elaborate plan to have a New Year's Eve party and tell her I loved her at midnight in front of everybody. Then we'd be back together and live happily ever after.

About an hour later, after everyone had left, we were making out on the couch in her basement while I apologized profusely for ever breaking up with her and told her how much I missed and loved her. I don't remember if she cried, but I did. Then came the most awkward situation I had ever been in.

Most of high school was spent in various states of undress on the couch in Steph's basement during all hours of the day. We'd gotten good at hearing footsteps upstairs coming towards the basement door, and even better at speed-dressing. However, in the time that we'd spent apart our skill at this faded, and we didn't hear her mother walking towards the basement until the last second when we both jumped to our feet, naked, and scrambled for clothes. Steph managed to cover up well enough to rush to the bottom of the staircase to stop her mother from coming any further, while I grabbed my pants and shirt and hid behind the fireplace.

"Are you alone down here?" Her mom asked.

Steph is a terrible liar, so she usually doesn't.

"No." She told her.

"Who's still here?"

"Glen."

"Hi Glen."

"Hi, Mrs. Rath." I said shyly standing half naked behind a fireplace.

"I think it's time for Glen to go home now." She informed us.

We got dressed. Steph drove me home, and then had a long conversation with her mother where she tried to convince her that we weren't having sex. We weren't, but when you're 18 year old daughter stops you halfway down a basement stairway with her shirt on inside out with a guy hiding behind a fireplace you tend to assume the worst.

I avoided her parents for the next six months.

I had ruined my elaborate New Years Eve plan, but we decided that New Years Day should be celebrated as our anniversary anyway, since we couldn't remember the date of the basement incident and because I had put all the thought into planning it.

About a year and a half later Steph's roommate was going to a wedding for her cousin or some other such person I never met, and as it turns out when girls hear about someone getting married they sit around for hours looking at dresses, rings, etc. So Steph and her roommate Faye spent a lot of time planning their future weddings.

About three months after that Steph and I were at a party and I decided that I wanted to ask her to marry me. Not at the party, but on our two-year anniversary. I called her roommate to have her ask Steph to send her a link to the engagement ring she'd picked out when they were looking, but to be serruptitious about it so Steph wouldn't know that I was trying to get the information.

To further lead Steph from the idea that I was buying her the exact engagement ring she wanted I started joking that I was going to buy her a Green Lantern ring when I asked her to marry me. This, of course, drove her crazy. Even when I promised that I would get her one of the neat ones that lit up and everything she told me that if I didn't get her a real ring she wouldn't say yes. I think she would have said yes if I gave her an onion ring.

So a few weeks later I got an email from Faye with the link to the exact wedding ring that Steph wanted. I waited until the end of the year to buy it for a few reasons. The first was that I was sure if I bought it too early I would lose it and/or Steph would find out, but the second was that I was incredibly nervous about the idea of asking Steph to marry me. Not because I didn't want to marry her, and not because I didn't think she'd say yes. In fact, the idea that she might say no didn't occur to me until right after I bought the ring. I'm not actually sure why I was nervous, but I was.

The plan was to buy the ring a few days before New Years Eve. Tell my parents I was going to propose. Tell Steph's parents I was going to propose. Then of course tell Steph I was proposing. But like my original plan of getting back together with her that one didn't work out.

My plan to tell my parents was to have my mom take me to the jewelry store on the premise that I had to buy an anniversary present for Steph. As we were leaving the house to do this my youngest brother Keith asked for a ride to his friend's house.

"Fine." I thought. Keith was a good egg, he could be in on the big engagement plan. But he wanted to get dropped off first, so we took him to his friend's house. His friend's parent's weren't home, so my mom wouldn't leave Keith and his friend alone in the house, so his friend Nathan got in the car. As we were driving to the jewelry store I told my mom to forget the whole thing. It's not that I didn't like Nathan, but having him and my younger brother along at the jewelry store while I bought the engagement ring just didn't seem to fit. My plan was ruined, and I was pissed off about it. I told my mom just to take me to Steph's and I'd worry about the present later.

Steph had just moved a few months before and my mom didn't know the way. I should have been giving her directions, but mostly I was just stewing in the front seat about my plan going to waste. I kept forgetting to tell my mom where to turn, so she had to back-track a lot, and we ended up shouting at each other. She couldn't figure out why I'd gotten so upset, but when she found out about the engagement she said it all made sense.

We eventually got to Steph's house. While she was getting ready to go to the party I was sitting in the living room with her parents. This was when I'd planned on telling them I was going to ask Steph to marry me. I'm aware that it's not 1850, and I didn't especially need their permission, but I figured I could at least give them a heads up about the whole thing. But I didn't have the ring, and didn't know when I would actually be proposing anymore, so I figured why bother bringing it up?

So instead of a meaningful conversation about my intentions with their daughter we sat there making small talk while I hoped they wouldn't bring up the time Steph's mom almost walked in on us "getting back together".

Steph came down looking so good I almost asked her to marry me right there, ring or no ring, and we went to the party. Fowling up your own engagement doesn't often put someone in a great mood, so I was a little down at the party. I told Haller the plan had gone to hell, and that there'd be no engagement that night, and since the jewelry store was closed on New Years Day I wasn't sure when I'd actually do it.

"The store's not closed tomorrow." He told me.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's open. Practically everything's open."

"Really? I thought it was one of those days where everything's closed."

"No."

"Huh... maybe I'll get engaged tomorrow then."

And the new plan was born!

I was still a little bummed about my original plan falling apart, because it was pretty sweet. The original plan went like this:

We would go to the party at Haller's, and have a wonderful time. Midnight would come, but I wouldn't propose yet. Proposing at midnight on New Year's Eve is a hack move, but New Year's Day is our anniversary, so that's when I wanted to do it. The plan was to wait until everyone was asleep, say around 4am. Then wake Steph up. Hand her the story I had written about the two of us getting engaged. Give her the ring. And ask her to marry me. The crazy excited girl noises she would make would wake everyone up and everyone would want to know what happened. Word would spread quickly through the basement full of people, and everyone would be happy. And a second party would start at 4am even though everyone would be tired and hung over.

It was brilliant.

The plan had to be changed. I wasn't exactly sure when or where I would ask her to marry me, but I knew I'd do it by the end of the night. Haller and I picked up the ring, and then I tried to figure out the details of when I'd ask so that I could rewrite the story accordingly. While I was thinking about that a last minute party sprung up at Steph's cousin's house. Steph wanted to go, and I wanted to be where she was, and Haller wasn't going to miss the engagement, so we all went to the party. I had the ring in one pocket and the story in the other.

Everyone kept trying to hug me, but since I had a ring box in my pocket I kept my distance so no one would feel it. I was incredibly nervous the whole night, and before I actually handed Steph the story I went upstairs to get away from everyone for a minute and calm down. Steph's cousin Andrea followed me.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"What? Oh. Nothing." I said nervously.

"You look nervous."

"Uhm. Yeah. I am nervous." I admitted.

"Why?"

I took her hand, and put it over my jacket pocket. She didn't even have to ask what it was. She felt the box and looked incredibly excited.

"Don't tell." I told her.

"I won't!" And she hugged me.

I went downstairs, and gave Steph the anniversary card I'd gotten her. She opened it, and then I kissed her and gave her the story.

"Do me a favor. Wait a minute, and then read this. I love you." I told her, and I left the room. I went outside and waited in front of the house in freezing cold weather, and realized I should have picked a warmer spot, or at least worn a coat.

I don't know how long I was out there, but it seemed like forever before Steph came out front with a confused look on her face.

"I love you." I told her as I went down on one knee, followed by, "Will you marry me?"

I handed her the ring, she started crying, pulled me up to her, kissed me, and gave me a hug that damn near killed me, and over her shoulder I saw the faces of everyone at the party pressed up against the window.

"Is that a yes?"

She kissed me again.

"Really though, I'm gonna need an answer."

She finally said yes, and I told her to turn around. She saw everyone watching and started laughing. She turned back to me, and gave me the sweetest look ever. It was by far one of my greatest moments with her or anyone else.

"Sorry it doesn't light up." I told her, referencing my threat of buying her a Green Lantern ring. She smiled and kissed me.

"This is better." She said, though I still think the Green Lantern ring would have been pretty sweet. She gave me a hug and refused to let go. I would have stayed there hugging her all night, but instead I said to her, "Can we go inside now? I wasn't counting on it being this cold and I've been out here for a while. We can keep hugging and stuff when we get inside though. I'm just really cold."

Then we went inside, and everyone was happy.

Here's how everyone ended up in the window: When Steph finished reading the story she asked Haller if it meant she was supposed to go outside. He told her yes, and she did. As soon as she left the room Andrea and Haller, being the only two people who knew what was going on, followed her and everyone else followed them.

When we came back inside everyone was looking at the ring and being happy, and eventually the ruckus caused Andrea's mother to come downstairs. We told her that we'd just gotten engaged.

"On my front porch?" She asked.

"Oh my god!" She yelled and hugged us both. "Do your parents know?"

Steph looked at me. I looked back at her. "About that..."

"Oh my god! I'm the first one to know!" Andrea's mom squealed. "Go tell them!"

So we did. We woke our parents up in the middle of the night to tell them, and everyone was happy.

I know I've written about telling our parents about the engagement, so I'll skip that part. But there it is, how we got engaged.

Still Married.

2006-08-01T12:47:00.000-04:00

I realize I haven't updated this in a while. So in case you're wondering, I'm still married. The reason I haven't posted in a while is that I've been busy with/depressed about my waitering job (more on that over on the Filmkid blog)

It's not just that the job takes all my time away from writing about being married, it takes a lot of time away from being married. A typical shift has me leaving here around the time Steph gets home or before, and getting home sometime between 10 and 12 at night, so on days that I work I don't get to see her much, and when I finally do get to see her I'm either exhausted or in a crappy mood.

I'm pretty good at not taking a crappy mood out on her, unless she's in a crappy mood too. Then I just try to avoid her, which I in turn feel bad about because I hadn't seen her at all that day.

I guess the point that I'm trying to make is that I hate my job. I'm not claiming that it's ruining my marriage, but I am claiming that my marriage, and life in general would be better without it.

The silver lining to all of this is my new job. I work for a video company that kind of has its hand in everything. I'm currently editing memorial videos for funeral homes, and when high school football season starts I'll be shooting all the games for a local high school. I'll be very busy with the new job, which hopefully means I'll be making enough money to quit my waitering job before I get fired from it.

I'm an awful waiter, it's only a matter of time before they realize this and shitcan me. Let em'.

I'll try to update more. I might bang a few out right now while I'm in the mood.

Over my breath.

2006-07-11T14:13:00.000-04:00

Our apartment is pretty small, but the things in it tend to be noisy. Fans, the air conditioner from 1948, water running, etc. So when Steph and I aren't in the same immediate area we're usually shouting back and forth to each other. The dissadvantage is that you have to yell, but the advantage is that you can mutter stuff under your breath. Or so I thought.

The fact that I'm kind of a slob is no surprise to anyone. Since I know it bugs Steph I try to make an effort to keep things in some semblence of order, but more often that not I screw it up and my things are strewn about all over the place. For example, one night Steph came home and questioned me about why she found my pants on the dining room table. I had no idea, since I do most of my dressing/undressing in the bedroom- not the dining room.

One particular area of sloppiness that drove Steph crazy was the pile of things behind the recliner. There was a bunch of stuff, that I ended up throwing away if for no other reason than to have Steph stop asking me about. One thing I didn't throw away was a large tupperware contaiter (which I'm sure you can purchase at the upcoming party) filled with various things that didn't warrant being thrown away. So behing the recliner it stayed.

I remember it being in the closet at one point, but I could be wrong. One day after dinner I was in the dining room and Steph was in the kitchen with the water running. She yelled (because she had to to be heard over the water, not because she was mad) "What are we going to do about that tupperware container behind the recliner?"

What came next was an example of me putting what's funny in front of what will not get me in trouble. I replied under my breath, "I don't know. Nag each other about it?" Smiling at my own cleverness while I tried to think of a real answer to tell Steph.

Trouble was she heard my original answer. And I can assure you "I don't know. Nag each other about it?" Is never the answer your wife is looking for regardless of the situation.

Tup Her Where?

2006-07-11T10:53:00.000-04:00

Welcome to 1974 everyone. On August 20th my wife and I are hosting a tupperware party. I'm sure you're wondering how this came to pass, so let's recount the events leading up to the decision to have a tupperware party.

Steph and I were sitting in the apartment doing something completly unrelated to tupperware when she brought up that her friend/bridesmaid Sarah's mother is now selling tupperware. My immediate thought was "Big F---ing deal." Then Steph tacked on that if we hosted a tupperware party we would get a bunch of free things.

I thought about this. I dig free stuff. But tupperware? Really? I'm in the kitchen a lot, and there are things I'd like to have in there but don't. Like sex. But I don't sit around thinking about tupperware or have any real desire to have tupperware.

The idea of having a tupperware party seems ridiculous to me. It's not like my friends are going to come. It will be my parents, neighbors, the general tupperware buying public. Originally I didn't want anything to do with this thing. I'd let Steph have the party and I'd go out and do something fun, but the more I thought about it- the more I wanted to be there.

Why? Well, it just seems too awkward to not put myself through and have something to write about. So yes, I'm going to put myself through something I would otherwise not want to be a part of to have something to write about. I think this is a sign of addiction.

Shoot me an email if you want to come to the big party.

"How's married life treatin' ya?"

2006-06-21T21:01:00.000-04:00

As it turns out, around the two month mark people will start asking you "How's married life treatin' ya?". They will say it exactly like that. No "G" at the end of "treating". An apostrophy will do just nicely. Let's shorten up "you" while we're at it. Who has time for three letters when you can just use two?

I don't know why this caught my attention at all or why it so quickly started to annoy me. Especially considering that I haven't pronounced the "G" at the end of any gerrund or other such "ing" word in about twenty years. Nonetheless, after about half a dozen people asked me the same question in the same exact way in the same day it started to bother me. I think it's just that I hate repeating myself, and as it turns out I hate it when people repeat each other.

So, in hopes that people will stop asking me how marriage is "treatin' ya" I'll just sum it up right here right now for the general public to peruse at their leisure.

Marriage is treating me very well. My wife is gorgeous and still loves me. She does my laundry. I make her dinner. We go grocery shopping together, which I've been told is adorable. When I have nightmares about robots attacking me and wake up at three a.m. she's there, and I like that. When it's not too hot or raining we go for walks around our apartment complex or down to see my parents. I drive home from work happy that I'll get to see her.

There. Quit askin' me.

Ready... Fight!

2006-06-04T18:35:00.000-04:00

The advantage to fighting when you're married is that you can fight about anything short of murder or infidelity and at the end of it you're still together. This is what crossed my mind last weekend when Steph and I had a fight. What made this fight interesting is that we were fighting over two completely seperate things.

Last Monday night Steph was sitting in bed reading, looking like she was ready to cry, while I was at the computer. Obviously something was bothering her, so I asked her until she caved and told me what was bothering her. I'll sum it up for you.

"You're fat and sloppy" She told me (she didn't say fat, but she did say sloppy)

"Is this what had her so upset?" I thought to myself. "I know that already. Is she suddenly surprised? Is this why she's been horrible all weekend?"

And that last point is what I ended up fighting about, because the truth of the matter is that I am fat and sloppy. I know this, and I can handle the criticism, but what I can't handle is Steph not telling me when something's bothering her.

Part of that is because I love her and want her to feel like she can tell me anything, but the big reason for it is that she's a terrible liar. When something's bothering her she's impossible to be around. She gets all mopey and quiet and depressing. Whenever she gets like this I assume it's something I did (it often is) and then start coming up with things she could be mad at me for. "You're fat and sloppy" wasn't even near the top of the pile of things I thought she thought I'd done.

So she was upset because I'm fat and sloppy, and I was upset because she was mopey and depressed for three days. I think we resolved that I'd try to be skinnier and neater if she'd cheer up or at least tell me when something's bothering her even when she thinks she's bruise my delicate sensibilities.

Then we had make up sex.

If you can't stand the heat...

2006-05-30T21:56:00.000-04:00

...get out of the one bdroom apartment with only one air conditioner that is mysteriously not in the bedroom where it belongs.

Today starts what I'm sure will be a life long battle over the temperature of whatever place Steph and I happen to find ourselves occupying. It got to be 135 degrees outside today, so since Steph gets home before I do I asked her to turn the air conditioner on and set it for negative forty. She informed me that our air conditioner doesn't have that setting. "Really, what should I set it to?" She asked.

"As close to -40 as the thing will get." I thought, but didn't say. I wanted to see what Steph's idea of an air conditioned apartmgent was.

Anyone who knows her is aware of the fact that Stephanie is always cold. Always. I don't fault her for being abnormal since I start complaining it's hot when the temperature breeches the seventy degree line. The trouble with this is that we now have to live together. Forever. Despite the temperature. They should really add "For hotter or for colder" to the wedding vows.

When I got to the door of our apartment I paused. I heard the air conditioner running when I was walking up to the building. I told myself this was a good sign. When I opened the door I wasn't greeted by the glass-frosting blast of air I subject myself to in the car, but it wasn't warm either. "She did it." I thought. The living room of our apartment was comfortable. It wasn't hot. Steph wasn't wearing a parka or anything to show that she was uncomfortable. Everybody wins.

Then I went into the bedroom. It was hot in the bedroom. This isn't Steph's fault, though. The air conditioner is tucked in the back far away corner of the living room where it has no hope of circulating to the bedroom. This is ridiculous, especially considering that there's an air conditioner sized hole in our bedroom wall covered up by a sheet of metal.

So it seems for now the battle for temperature supremecy isn't between Steph and I, but between myself and my apartment.

iMarriage

2006-05-26T20:11:00.000-04:00

Two things happened today worth noting. The first is that I got the old PowerMac G4 I bought with some wedding money working at last. The second is that Steph let me replace her PC with it. Of course, as soon as I brought the computer to it's new home it decided to stop working again.

The larger question is whether or not I can convert my PC using wife to the Mac world without it getting in the way of our marriage. We'll see in the days to come.

A longer story about strippers.

2006-05-23T10:59:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I wrote the following post from a library on my honeymoon:

After leaving one of the coolest bars I'd ever been to I started walking around Atlantic City with the cats who were kind enough to attend day 2 of my bachelor party. I think I cleared it with everyone that was there that it was okay to recount this on Filmkid.com, but just to be sure (and because I think it's funny) I'm going to be referring to them all by pseudonyms.

If you're wondering, I know Steph will read this and that's fine. Mom, however, you probably shouldn't. But if you insist on reading it, replace "strip club" with "Zoo" and "stripper" with "Orangutan"

As we stepped in to the cleverly named strip club down in AC (though I don't remember the clever name) the first thought I had was, "Huh. So I guess you don't have to be hot to be a stripper." I shared my thought with my good friend "Clark Kent" who replied with "Nah, you just have to have lose morals and hate your father." Clark then added, "What would Steph say if she found out you were in here."

"If?" I said, "This is all going up on Filmkid.com" And it did.

The decision to go to the strip club was based more on a feeling like it should be done than me actually wanting to go see some stranger get her boobs out. For most of us it was the first time in a strip club. I'm pretty sure Clark had been to a strip club before, if not this very one. He did, after all, know the way to get there. "Steve Rogers" being in the military, had definitely been to a strip club before. Clark's friend "Jimmy Olsen" seemed to know what he was doing, but we'd just met so I'm not sure on his strip club history.

With those exceptions the rest of us, that's "Dick Grayson", "Peter Parker", "Mr. Connery", and "Sheriff Brody", all just found ourselves looking uncomfortable.

It didn't take long for a group of uncomfortable looking guys to attract attention, and soon enough Officer Nadia came to investigate. Despite her outfit, it turns out that she wasn't really a police officer. She was sitting there on Clark's lap chatting him up for a few minutes before coming back to me, grabbing my hand and saying something I couldn't hear or understand.

Best to not ask questions, I thought, as I followed the stripper into the back.

I'd never gotten a lap dance before, at least not from a professional, and I certainly didn't know what to do. But Nadia told me to sit down, then dropped her gear and went to work. By far this was the most awkward experience of my life.

I didn't touch the stripper. I later found out that this was some sort of rule, but the hard and fast truth of it all was that I wasn't going to touch anyone in that place.

Oh! Cliffhanger! I'm leaving the library now, go ask Clark Kent what happened.

I've been meaning to get around to finishing the story and have either forgotten or been unable to do so for a while, but here it is! The exciting conclusion!

_________________________________________

When we last left off, Glen was having an eastern European stripper named Nadia shake her butt cheeks in his face at the expense of his good friend "Clark Kent"...

"What country are you from, Nadia?", I thought but didn't ask. This was for two reasons. The first was that I was far too uncomfortable to speak. The second was that I didn't really care. She could be from Illinois and just have a speech impediment for all I care.

Suddenly something the guys and I were discussing earlier popped into my head like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. The gist of the conversation was that we thought it would fun to get all our money changed to Saquajaweeah dollars (I spelled this wrong because my hatred of those coins has actually bleed into a dislike of their namesake and a refusal to learn to spell her name correctly.) then take our giant sack of otherwise useless coins and bring them to the strip club. The idea was that instead of putting dollar bills into g-strings you could just drop the coin in her ass crack like a soda machine. With Nadia's butt cheeks mere inches from my face I for the first time in my life actually wanted a Sackadfgadsklfjadsflkjwhothehellcares dollar.

That's when Nadia decided, by whatever process strippers decide these things, that the lap dance was over. She clambered off of me and put her unconvincing police uniform back on. She looked like a Village Person, but with nicer boobs.

Unclear of what to do next I stumbled out of the back of the strip club to find my friends. For the most part they were where I had left them, minus Steve Rogers.

"How was it?" asked Peter Parker.

"Awkward." I told him.

Everyone pretty much agreed that was the response they were expecting me to give. Clark Kent and Jimmy Olsen went to the front row by the stage. Not knowing what else to do, I joined them. Clark handed me some singles.

"You have to tip the strippers to sit up here." He told me.

"Awesome." Though I was debating just how awesome it really was.

The stripper was giving all her attention to some guy at other end of the stage, but eventually crawled over to us. She made her way down the line. First shaking her boobs in Jimmy Olsen's face, after which he held out a dollar, and she took it form him by leaning into his hand then pushing her boobs together. It was like a carnival crane machine, but with boobs. She got to Clark and he slid a dollar under the string across her hip. Then she got to me.

I can only describe the technique I used to get the dollar under the stripper's thong by comparing it to the way an incredibly arachniphobic teenage girl gets up the courage to squash a spider with a tissue.

"That's enough of that." I thought as I walked back to everyone else. Steve Rogers had come back. He was sitting underneath a smaller stage and was having a stripper sit on his head.

"Switch places with me." He asked. I figured this was because he had some reason to want my seat. Turns out that he just thought that I would enjoy having a stripper sit on my head. Turns out that, no, I do not.

I still had a dollar from Clark, so I figured if I gave it to the stripper she'd leave me alone. This is the same mistake made by the people who get mauled by bears. I couldn't get the stripper's attention, or her ass off my head, and I didn't want to just go grabbing her shiny underpants and cramming money into them. I understand that's her job, but job or not I can't imagine anyone likes being surprised by someone putting something in their underpants.

Since my stripper-hat wasn't taking the dollar I gave it to Nadia when she passed by.

"I didn't have any money before, but you do excellent work." I told her because I figured she could use a compliment other than "nice ass". I don't know if she heard or understood me, but she had me stick the dollar in her cleavage.

The girl whose ass had been on my head for several minutes was thankfully called to the mainstage. When she was out of earshot Steve turned to me and said "See, wasn't that a better seat?"

"Only if you like stripper asses on your head. Turns out I don't.", was my reply.

That's when a woman who will be crassly referred to as "Ugly Stripper" because I didn't catch her name, and with any luck I didn't catch anything else, started chatting up Dick Grayson. After about a minute they both turned to me and Dick asked, "You want a lap dance?"

I turned my head and put my hands up a little. Dick handed Ugly Stripper some money and she came over to me and led me to the back. It's not that I had a great time with Nadia or anything, but at least she was attractive. Ugly Stripper just looked like an extra from a zombie movie who had to leave half-way through the make-up process to go pick up the results of a paternity test.

As I followed the walking dead to the back she sat me down in a chair next to Steve Rogers. I've known Steve Rogers since we were kids. We were in Boy Scouts together. Of all the people I've known over the years, Steve Rogers is easily in the top ten list of people I never thought I'd be getting a lap dance next to. Coincidentally he's also on the top ten list of people I never think I'll be getting a lap dance from.

As we passed Steve I noticed that his stripper was hotter than mine, and this was upsetting. I was afraid of Ugly Stripper, and for the first and only time in my life, I missed Nadia.

Their looks weren't the only thing that separated Nadia and Ugly Stripper. What I appreciated the most about Nadia was that she clearly wanted to be giving me a lap dance about as much as I wanted to be getting one. There were no attempts to make me think she was all into it or anything, but Ugly Stripper apparently loves her job. This just made it worse for me.

After the worst few minutes of my life I escaped to the main room of the strip club. I sat down next to Dick Grayson. He asked me how it went and I said, "Just for future reference, next time we're in a strip club which will probably be never, and an ugly stripper offers me a lap dance and I go like this...", I imitate my head tilt/hands up move from a few minutes earlier, "that's a no."

"Where's Steve?", Peter asked.

"He was just in the back getting a lap dance. He should be back in a few minutes." I told him.

A stripper sat down on Brody's lap and started talking to him, but being the honorable and taken man that he is he declined the lap dance and instead bought one for his brother, Mr. Connery. The stripper led him in the back and he was gone for a few minutes. This was Sean's first lap dance and I'm pretty sure he had a better time of it than I did. He came back grinning bashfully and that's when we all turned to each and asked the question, "Where's Steve?"

"I didn't see him back there." Sean Connery added.

This was either because he had been taken to the "champagne room" or because he was kidnapped by strippers and we were never to see him again. Since he was our friend we decided to try to wait for him, but as the hours passed with no sign or word from him the prospect of just ditching him started to look better and better. "He's a marine.", I told myself, "If he can handle Iraq he can handle a strip club on his own."

Before we could ditch him a stripper sat on my lap.

"Hey baby", she said.

I don't want to refer to more than one stripper as "Ugly Stripper" to avoid confusion, so I'll just say she looked like Lafawndu from Napoleon Dynamite.

"Hey", I said uncomfortably.

"You wanna take me in the back?" She asked. I understood her emphasis on "take" but why would she draw out "back? ...nevermind. I get it now.

"Uh... no, I already had two lap dances. I'm good."

"From who?" She asked as for some reason she looked at Peter Parker.

"Not him. From Nadia and..." I didn't have the heart or scrot to refer to Ugly Stripper as Ugly Stripper in front of one of her... co-workers? I guess? So I just mumbled something.

"Nah, baby. They're no good. You gotta come in the back with me."

I started thinking about that Ninja Turtles anti-drug PSA that used to be on TV when I got home from school. "Joey's in a jam! What should he do?" But somehow calling her a turkey didn't seem like it was going to help.

"Uhm, that's alright."

"Nah baby, get it? Cum in the back with me. I'm the ultimate."

I guess she did sort of look like WWF superstar The Ultimate Warrior, but how ultimate she was at lap dances I had no desire to find out.

"I don't have any money. It's my bachelor party, they wouldn't let me bring my wallet." In this sentence I did one thing right, and one thing wrong. To avoid talking to strippers just let them know you don't have any money and they'll leave you alone. To get strippers to flock to you and not leave you alone, tell them you're getting married. Thankfully the stripper's love for money outweighed her stripper instinct to hassle the guy getting married and after she confirmed with all my friend that they didn't have any money either she finally left us alone.

After Lafawndu left, Dick Grayson got a lap dance from the stripper he'd been eyeing up all night. Since then I've been telling everyone that he is in love with her and plans to pick her up in Atlantic City and take her to Vegas to get married.

Sean Connery bought himself a lap dance from the same stripper when she was done with Dick Grayson. In all that time, Steve Rogers was nowhere to be seen.

"These strippers are getting needy." Clark said.

"Yeah, no good."

"Where's the marine?" He asked me.

"M.I.A. I haven't seen him in an hour. I vote we ditch him."

Just as we were about to vote Steve came back.

"Where the hell were you?" We all asked him.

"Champagne room." He said.

"Great, let's get the hell out of here." I said as I broke for the door.

We made our way out onto the street. "Guys, I just want to let you know that I've never been more sure I wanted to get married." I announced to the crowd.

Dick said, "Well yeah. That's the point. We just had to make sure you're ready to give all this up."

"What? Having eastern European girls shake their asses in my face and sit on my head? Trust me, I've got no problem giving that up."

"Maybe you can get Steph to shake her ass in your face and sit on your head." Added Peter Parker.

...maybe

1 Month Down...

2006-05-22T16:02:00.000-04:00

Thirty days ago I got married. It's not my one month anniversary because anniversaries are annual, not monthly. Nonetheless I think this is some kind of accomplishment.

In the past thirty days Steph and I have had sex (sorry, dear) more times than we've fought. If we can keep that up I think we'll be in good shape. None of the fights were over anything major- laundry, dishes, my mangled crapwagon of a car- little stuff. The fights themselves weren't terribly catastrophic either. Standard fight procedure for Steph and I can be broken down pretty easily.

1. I do something that bothers Steph.
2. She tells me about it.
3. I get mad at her for telling me about it.
4. We both feel bad.
5. We cuddle on the couch and apologize.
6. I agree to stop doing whatever it is I do that bothers her.
7. Make up sex.

This is all in the span of a few hours, most of which is taken up by the make up sex.

To be fair none of the times we've had sex were instigated by anything major either. Things that have led to sex include, but are not limited to:

-Steph using large or obscure words in a sentence. (She does this, thankfully, a lot.)
-Steph referencing something nerdy.
-Me vacuuming.
-Watching a Discovery Channel special about the Bermuda Triangle.
-Steph saying, "Stop doing homework and come get naked with your wife."

Personally, I think the last month has gone pretty well. Tonight we're celebrating not killing each other yet by going out on a double date with my pal Kevin "Vic" Victorella and his new lady friend. Later tonight we'll be celebrating by me giving Steph a thesaurus.

"But you're married. You don't have any friends."

2006-05-21T14:37:00.000-04:00

The title comes from my sister Kristin. This may be the most (or only) insightful thing my sister has ever said. It's not entirely true, of course, but it's a little too true for my taste.

I've been married for just under a month and in that time have seen my friends... rarely. This is actually one of the reasons I wanted to start writing this. I've heard that when you get married you lose most of your single friends, and I didn't want that to happen. So let's start with a list of the friends I've seen since the wedding and the context in which I've seen them.

Haller- He tends to drop by out of nowhere, which is fine because apparantly I'd never see him otherwise.

Dieck- I've seen Dieck more often than anyone else, but everytime it's been based on something business related.

Bello- We had a lunch date to discuss the budget for the new movie. This isn't too unusual since most of the times Bello and I see each other it's because of business.

Dan- I've seen Dan at work and class only.

Nick Salamon- Surpisingly I've seen my former roommate Nick Salamon three times in the past month including the wedding. This is because he's now humping on Steph's friend Sara, and they crashed at our place one night and we met them in the city yesterday for dinner.

Vic and his family- I went to visit them last night. I was supposed to go to the comic book store with Vic to buy comic book convention tickets, but by the time I got out of the city from seeing Steph's friends (more on that later) it was too late, so we just hung out and watched bonus material on the new Napoleon Dynamite DVD.

Not being able to go to the comic book store with Vic is the second time within a week that I've had to cancel plans with my friends. I don't blame Steph for either of these, but it doesn't change the fact that they happened. Earlier this week my friend John Holl was having a dinner thing for his girl. I hadn't seen them since the wedding. I hadn't seen most of the people likely to attend in even longer, so I was pretty eager to go.

When Steph got home that night she was livid. Not at me, but since neither of us were in a particularly good mood we wound up fighting about my car. I could have just left and gone to the bar with John and everyone else and complained about my crazy wife, but instead I stayed here until the fight was over and we had some make up sex.

Then yesterday Steph and I had planned on going to see To Kill a Mockingbird at the Lafayette Theater. Her friends were getting together for dinner in New York that night so she asked me if I wanted to go. Since I had plans to go to the comic book store with Kevin that night I asked what time we'd be back here. She guessed around 8 or 8:30 at the latest, which still gave me time to hit the comic book store with Vic. If I'd known we wouldn't get back until after 10 I would have skipped New York.

Both of these could have been avoided which is why I don't blame Steph for either of them. I could have ditched her mid-fight to go drink beer with my friends, and I could have made her go into the city alone which I know she hates doing. All I have to do is learn to completely disregard her wants and needs and I'll be all set.

You'll notice I'm not counting Steph's friends as my friends. This isn't because I don't like them. It's because no matter how well you get along with your wife's friends they will always be seperate from your friends. If you've been together for a while then this line might start getting blurry, which is fine, but it doesn't change the fact that there's a line. Here's how you test the line:

Step 1: Get in a fight with your wife. (I've found the easiest way to do this is hit a deer with your car and not get any of the damage repaired, but individual results may vary.)

Step 2: Tell everyone you know about the fight.

Step 3: Take note of who is on your side of the fight and who is on her side.

If the fight is minor then your friends will take your side and your wife's friends will take her side. I'm making a point of saying that the fight has to be minor because if the fight's over the fact that you accidentally cut your wife's leg off with a samurai sword then it's probably a safe bet that no one's going to take your side. But let's say you leave the cap off the toothpaste and your wife yells at you for it. You call your best friend, and it will probably go something like this:

You: "My wife yelled at me for leaving the cap off the toothpaste."
Your friend: "Crazy broad."

Try telling the same story to one of her friends, and this will be the result:

You: "My wife yelled at me for leaving the cap off the toothpaste."
Her friend: "Well yeah, it's not that hard to put the cap back on when you're done."

That's how you tell her friends from yours.

Hopefully in the future I'll be able to get the hang of still seeing my friends despite being married. Either that or I can just tell you all to go to hell. Only time will tell.

Circus and/or Claudia.

2006-05-14T22:06:00.000-04:00

For some reason, and maybe it's because I just got married, for the last few weeks the idea of Steph and I having children has been on my mind a lot. We have no immediate plans to have kids, but there is A plan, just not one that's going to be enacted any time in the near future.

This whole idea is, of course, utterly ridiculous. Me? With a kid? What?

I have some faith in my ability to raise a child. My mother ran a daycare center in our house until a few years ago, so I'm certainly not lacking in experience with children. With the exception of that kid in the mall (see "Am I the Boogie Man?" on my Filmkid blog) and my in-laws' neighbors' baby (though I suppose the baby could also be considered my in-laws' neighbor) I'm generally well liked by children. I mean, we do have a lot in common.

I watch cartoons, read comic books, play video games, eat cereal with cartoons on the box, wear cartoon and comic book related clothing. Seriously, if you're five what's not to love about me?

For years the struggle between parent and child has been finding common ground. My father and I, for example, have almost no common interests which was kind of a handicap in our relationship for a number of years. But I think I could get along with my kid, at least for the first few years of its life. Once it goes and starts forming interests and opinions of its own I might be completely lost.

Since the wedding I've had a recurring dream where Steph leaves me alone with the baby for the first time. The dream is spent by me sitting on the couch with the baby asking it things like, "So, what do you want to do?", "Want to go see a movie?" but then getting annoyed when it doesn't say anything back. Until eventually I get up and say, "Fine. You can just sit there then." and walk away. I have this dream at least three times a week.

The biggest problem Steph and I are likely to hit when we do have a kid is naming it.

My suggestion- Circus Trapeze Tickle.

Steph's suggestion- Anything But Circus Trapeze Tickle.

The debate started last year when Steph and I were at the circus and the second half was delayed because a woman went into labor. I thought, "How cool would it be to be born at the circus."

The next logical thought was, "What if they name the baby Circus."

Then, of course, "Steph! Let's name OUR baby Circus!"

She instantly hated the idea, but only about half as much as I loved it.

"What about Claudia?" She asked. Claudia had been my original suggestion for a baby girl's name after my friend Claudia Lauer who on top of being pretty much the coolest I've ever met has a pretty sweet name.

"She'll understand." I told her. Though I have no idea if Claudia would understand or not.

During the actual wedding ceremony the priest asks you a series of questions. One of which is "Will you lovingly accept children from God?" or some such thing. When the priest said it I instantly had a mental picture of God (as he is depicted in Family Guy no less) handing me a kid.

It's just proof that the whole idea of me with a child is completely ridiculous.

Titles At Last!

2006-05-14T19:31:00.000-04:00

After playing around with the preferences in my blog tool I finally figure out how to get an actual title bar for this blog. Now all I have to do is get some comments from you people and I'll be in business!

2006-05-14T19:10:00.000-04:00

New Computers Are From Mars.
New Bedroom Furniture Sets Are From Venus.

One of the many upshots of getting married is that people throw obscene ammounts of money at you. I don't want to say how much Steph and I received, but it's a lot. Most of it is going towards the down payment on a house. We both agreed on this from the beginning because we both want a house, and know we need an ass-load of money to get one.

That still leaves half of a big pile of money. My first suggestion was to get it changed into singles that Steph and I could have sex on. She shot this down because she didn't think any bank would take it after we were done wtih it, but I disagree. People will take money no matter what you've done to or on it.

Another decent chunk is going towards completing our gift registry. Again, we both agreed on this so there's no real issue there. The pile's withered down a bit, but we still have quite a bit left. So... what do we do with it?

Steph and I each have out of date PCs. If you combine their ages I think they'd be starting college soon. Steph's computer hasn't worked right for the past five years, and mine works, but is basically just an outdated piece of garbage. I've got my Mac iBook that I love and use constantly, but it's limited in its capacity so I'm limited with what I can do with it. So the first thing I thought to spend the money on was a new computer.

Steph had a different opinion. We have furniture in our bedroom, but it's not what one would call a set. There's a dresser that's pretty good I guess. Steph has a little end table on her side of the bed, and I have a small dresser on my side. This never bothered me. In fact, until Steph suggested using the money to buy a new bedroom furniture set the idea that there was anything wrong with our furniture situation had never even occured to me.

It's not that either of us outright disagreed with the other one. The problem was in the details. Since I started my current job I've turned into a bit of a Mac snob, so despite Steph finding a pretty good deal on a new PC I was pretty set on getting a Mac I could use to edit video. It took some convincing, but finally Steph agreed to let me get my Mac and gave me a $1000 limit, which isn't a lot in terms of Macs but I'm just upgrading a used one so we're good.

The bedroom set is going to be... I have no idea. Steph showed me a bunch of pictures that I nodded at casually since I have almost literally no opinion of furniture whatsoever. As long as she doesn't get something wildly hideous, and it would have to be pretty ugly for me to express an opinion, we'll be all set.

Even after the computer and plans for bedroom furniture we've still quite a bit of money left over. There's talk of Steph letting me get a video iPod, and if that's the case then she can pretty much do whatever she wants for the rest of my life. Because if she does something I disagree with I'll just drown her out with my sweet iPod.

2006-05-13T12:00:00.000-04:00

Jealousy.

Last night I was talking to my wife and mentioned that I have a lunch date on Monday with my producer, the lovely and talented Bello (her first name is also Steph, so I call her Bello to avoid confusion. And by lovely and talented I mean she's wicked hot and talented), and that we were going to this all you can sushi place she found to work out a budget for our new movie.

What happened next doesn't happen that often between Steph and I.

She got jealous.

Who wouldn't? While she was going to be off hard at work I was going to be out on a lunch date with another woman. And there I was throwing it out in the open like I didn't even care. You're probably thinking about what a dick I am.

Slow your roll, slugger. She wasn't jealous about the other woman. She was jealous that I'm going to the all you can eat sushi place without her.

Steph and I aren't particularly the jealous sort. Even when my friends and I went to the strip club she didn't have a problem. I called her and told her about the following morning while my friends were in the room.

"She's not mad at you?" Asked the only attached man in the room.

"Ha! Sure isn't."

"My girlfriend would be pissed." He admitted.

To this I immediately thought "Get a new girlfriend, or don't go to strip clubs."

I've been told that women are crazy, and it's certainly true. Steph is nuts. I've seen her make the bed right before we go to sleep. When we go to a restaurant she'll literally read everything at the table. (To be fair, I love that about her.) But is she the kind of chick who gets mad because I'm having lunch with my friend or looking at some Eastern European girl pick a dollar up off the floor with her buttcheeks? Nope.

Why not?

I don't really know. Probably for the same reason I don't care when she goes out with her friends, and why I laughed when her friend Sara asked me if it was okay for her to bring Steph to a strip club.

I know that chick digs me. What's she gonna do? Cram a dollar in some high school drop-outs banana-hammock and fall desperately love and ditch me? Pffft. She'll probably want to be in the strip club about as much as I did, and have the same awkward time.

The point is that if Steph was the kind of girl who went all crazy on my ass because I was having lunch with a friend of mine then I wouldn't have married her. Hell, I would have outright laughed in her face the first time it happened.

So it's either because Steph and I just aren't jealous people or we just trust the other one because we're in love and that stuff. Or both. I don't care either way. It doesn't change the fact that Steph IS the kind of chick who gets jealous because I get to go to the all you can eat sushi buffet.

2006-05-12T09:55:00.000-04:00

Bling.

Before the wedding I'd never really worn jewerly, and at no point in my life prior to the wedding do I remember thinking, "Ya know, I think I'd really like to wear some jewerly even though I'm not a woman." I mean sure, there was the occasional friendship bracelet, decoder ring, or something like that but nothing serious. Now all of a sudden I'm sporting "bling" as it were.

When Steph and I went to pick out wedding rings I wanted to get a Green Lantern ring.

"Would you really want to wear a Green Lantern ring everyday for the rest of your life?" was her argument against it.

"Do you really have to ask me that question?"

Of course I'd wear a Green Lantern ring everyday for the rest of my life. I'd be at a party, someone would see it and since not many people recognize the Green Lantern's ring when they see it they'll say, "What kind of ring is that?"

"It's the Green Lantern's ring." I'd reply.

"Oh, are you the Green Lantern?" They'd innevitably ask.

"No, I'm married."

That alone would make up for the fact that the ring would almost certainly not have any super powers. Of course the slight chance that I would wind up with an actual Green Lantern ring was the reason I wanted it in the first place. If I was going to have to wear a ring it might as well give me super powers.

But alas, Steph wouldn't have it and now I'm saddled with a plain silver ring. Steph and the jewelry store woman say it's "white gold" but I have a pretty good idea what colors gold and silver are, and this thing's silver.

To the best of my knowledge it has no super powers... or does it?

Now that I have the ring I can:

~Repel ugly/horrible girls at parties.
~Leave an indent on someone's face... if I ever have to punch someone in the face... with my left hand.
~Have sex with Steph without anyone getting mad at me for it.
~Get really sick and not worry about it because now I have killer health insurance.
~As per a Heinekin commercial I saw I can open beer bottles with it, but I've yet to try this since the beer I drink has twist off caps.
~Before the ring if Steph got pregnant everyone would be mad. After the ring if she gets pregnant everyone would be happy.
~I finally have something to take off if I ever get an MRI again. I know that's not really an advantage, but they always ask and I always say no and then feel like it was a waste of time for them to even ask. Now it's not.
~I can at least fill one nerd goal and stroke it while calling it "precious". Since it's one ring to control them all, and by "all" I mean Steph. (I stole that joke, and Steph, from Eric Smith)
~I always have something to play with when I'm bored or nervous.
~I can get girls naked at my request. Okay, just Steph, but it's still totally worth it.

That's all I can think of, but it's a pretty decent list. Sure, I can't use the Green Lantern's obnoxiously long list of super powers, but the getting Steph naked part is more than enough to make up for it.

My wife's smokin' hot.

2006-05-08T11:24:00.000-04:00

So... meet my wife? I guess?

Yesterday as I was on my way out the door to go see my friend Dieck, Steph asked, "Would you like some company on the way Dieck's?" Dieck would sure be company enough when I got to his apartment. But his place is about twenty mintues from mine, and I do like Steph an awful lot. So sure enough, I let her come along.

When we got to his apartment his roommate, James, opens the door. Usually when I go over to Dieck's James is there, and Steph's been to Dieck's a few times before, but I couldn't remember if they'd ever met.

So I asked.

"James, have you ever met Steph?"

"I don't think so." He said as Steph shook her head because she had, in fact, never met James.

"Oh, well. This is my... wife? And this is Dieck's roommate, James."

Up to that point I'd called Steph my wife a number of times, in a number of contexts, to a number of people. Half the time I address her when we're at home I say "Hey, wife." or "I love you, wife" but then it's followed by me laughing at the fact that I have a wife. But this was the first time I had to introduce her as my wife to someone she'd never met.

It wasn't really that strange. I just didn't see it coming.

Although, it was infinitely better than having to introduce her as my fiancee. Then you just sound like a jackass. It's like saying "Oh here's Steph and even though this entire conversation has been in English I'm gonna switch it up for one word to French and call her my FEE ANCE SAY because we can't come up with an English equivalent for 'chick I'm gonna marry' "

It's like when you go to Taco Bell with someone who's an asshole and they order a BO-RRRRRRREEE-TO. Just say burrito. Buh-Ree-To.

You could probably practice this so when the time comes it's not something you even think about let alone feel the need to write about. Just sit at home and repeat, "Hey, this is (insert girl's name here), my wife, and she'd like a burrito (that's buh-ree-to)." Over and over again until you can introduce your wife to strangers and order food in a mexican restaurant without sounding like a boner all at the same time.

2006-05-07T00:01:00.000-04:00

No real update tonight, folks. I started writing one, but so far it's really long and not very interesting or funny. I'll revise it and finish it tomorrow.

G'night.

2006-05-05T17:20:00.000-04:00

Non-Photo Blue

This picture was taken by my eight year old friend and ringbearer Michael Petrozzo on the limo ride from the church to the reception hall. He saw my camera and said "What's that?"

"That's my camera." I told him.

"What does it do?" He asked.

"Takes pictures. Do you want to take some pictures, buddy?" I asked him since I really didn't want to take any pictures, but felt like someone should since I had the camera.

Michael jumped at the chance and snapped this one off. It's my favorite picture from the wedding. This is out of all my friends, family, strangers, and even the "professional wedding photographer". I was thinking about having a contest for everyone to send in pictures they took at the wedding, but I don't think any of them would hold a candle to this one.

Why do I like it so much? I don't know. I'm making a silly face and my head's falling out of the frame. My eyes are half closed and Steph looks kind of Asian. It's not posed as much as Steph's just laughing at me trying to explain to an eight year old kid in a tuxedo how to use my camera.

Here's a picture that our friend, groomsman, guy I stole Steph from, and rock photographer Eric took that Steph loves. It's a great picture, and you can see the rest of his pictures at www.brokenfocus.com/ticklewedding.

Just try to imagine having some guy waving a camera in your face saying "Okay, Glen, lean your head on Steph. Steph, grab his shoulder. Look in different directions. Steph look at the camera. Smile. Both of you lean back a little." It wouldn't be the same.

The point I'm trying to make is that the best pictures from the wedding came from our friends, not the guy we were paying an absolutely absurd ammount of money to take the pictures. He more or less only served to irritate the hell out of me.

When we went to meet with the guy's secretary to decide if we should hire him we were looking through his portfolio and it was all posed standard boring stuff where the people just look uncomfortable. There were pictures of just tables full of people staring at the camera. Couples dancing and staring at the camera. Nothing looked real. It just looked like everyone was trying really hard to convince someone that a wedding took place. Like the moon landing.

This isn't what I wanted because, well, I wanted the wedding pictures to be good. I was ready to just up and leave, despite how nice and overly enthuzed the guy's secretary was, but Steph seemed pretty set on this guy. I told her what I thought about the posed stuff, and she said she'd tell him to try to keep it more spontaneous. That clearly didn't work out.

There's a common misconception among a lot of people I know that I don't like having my picture taken. Not true. I don't care if you take my picture. I hold no myth that you're stealing my soul. I'm not worried about bad publicity. Snap away one and all. What I don't like is posing. So having Photo McGee having me "Look at me and smile!" for "Just one more!" about eight hundred times got me more than a little irritated.

The only proof of his I do like is one where I look like I'm about to kick his ass. It was while he was taking pictures of me alone. This was the part that I hated the most. With all the other pictures I suffered through them with a smile because I knew Steph wanted them, or it was a picture with family members or friends, or just someone who wanted to be in the picture with me more than I did. But this? Alone? Really? I don't need or want this. If I want to remember what my tux looked like I can just look at one of the four hundred other pictures he was taking. I don't need new press photos, I've already got one of those. So why am I standing here by myself while this guy is telling me I'm not holding my jacket correctly? The clincher is that while he was bothering me all of Steph's bridesmaids were frantically trying to bussel or unbussel her dress, and that's what he should have been taking a picture of.

I'd put the picture up here, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction. Even though he's not reading this. And if you are, you annoy me and my eight year old friend takes better pictures than you do. The truth hurts.

On a somewhat related note, this is my favorite picture of me. It was taken by the aforementioned Eric the morning after one of my annual Sinatra Night parties. I didn't know he was taking it. I think I was trying to look down Steph's shirt while she was eating breakfast or something equally as ridiculous.

The point is that I like it because I didn't have Eric waving his camera in my face shouting "Hey! Look at me! Smile awkwardly!"

If you're getting married do yourself a favor and just have a bunch of your friends take pictures of you. Unless one of the following three statements is true:

1) You do not have any photographically talented friends.
2) You like crappy posed pictures.
3) You don't know any eight year olds.

Then by all means, shell out enough money to buy a car and have some guy in your face with a flashbulb for the entire night when you should be drinking. If not, trust me- better yet- trust your friends. Tell them that whoever takes the best pictures gets a free set of Pyrex Portables Bakeware. (Apparantly when you get married you can expect three sets of these things, and you'll undoubtably be trying to get rid of at least one of them.) Since Michael Petrozzo is eight I'm not sure what he'd do with a set of Pyrex Portables Bakeware, so I'll have to come up with another prize.

2006-05-05T13:44:00.000-04:00

The Morning After.

I don't know if it's common practice to leave for your honeymoon right after the reception, but Steph and I opted to wait until the following morning before setting out on an eight hour car trip to Cape Cod. We booked a room at a bed and breakfast in town and spent the night there. I have no idea why. I would have been just as happy coming back to our apartment and spending the night here. But it turns out that would have been awkward considering my dad rented a school bus to shuttle all my drunken groomsmen back here to sleep it off and/or have sex on my bed. I mean with their dates, but they were drunk so who knows what happened.

We left the reception a little early because I was wildly uncomfortable around that many people- relatives or not- and we were more than eager to get to the room at the bed and breakfast. Well, Steph was eager about the bed and breakfast. I was just eager about the bed.

Steph's cousin and his wife were in charge of shuttling Steph's car to the place so we had a way of leaving in the morning, but they also took the liberty of stocking the room with a bottle of wine, a corkscrew I had to convince Steph didn't belong to the hotel, and a packet of "Max Stamina" which Steph was reasonably certain did not belong to the hotel.

Now, Steph has made the request that in the course of this website or any other venture I have that I do not get into details about our sex life, but this was our wedding night. What the hell else did you think we were going to do?

Since I was already quite drunk from the endless string of Manhattans at the reception, we didn't open the wine. Since the "Max Stamina" said "wait 45 minutes before intimate activity" we didn't open that either. I would have done her at the church if she'd let me. I wasn't waiting 45 minutes.

This is the part I won't get into details about, but if I have to explain what we were doing then you're too young to be reading this. The only detail I'll give is that wedding dresses are, ironically, the hardest dresses to get a girl out of. It's like a big white frilly sex Rubic's cube.

The next morning we had scheduled a brunch at a local cafe for the wedding party, parents, and out of town relatives. But before we could go to that we had to stop by Steph's parent's house so she could drop off her dress.

We walk into the house and Steph's parents, aunt and uncle, two cousins, their spouses, and a baby are sitting in the living room. And they ALL know what I did to Steph the night before. Atleast two of them think a product called "Max Stamina" was involved.

Awkward.

Steph and I have been dating on and off since the middle of high school, and I've been trying to sleep with her from day one. When your daughter has been dating the same guy since the middle of high school it's a safe assumption that he's doing stuff to her that you don't want to know about when you're not around, but hopefully it's just an assumption. But when your daughter's been married for less than a day then you already know what the guy's been doing to her, and now he's showing up at your house and taking you to brunch.

Her dad came up to me and said "Did you have a good night?"

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I quickly ruled out "Yeah, she's a giver.", "You should have been there.", and "I just banged your daughter."

I went with, "Sure did." figuring it was a safe bet. After the longest ten minutes of my life we left to go back to our apartment because, and I know I hadn't mentioned this earlier in the story, I was wearing my pajama pants, tuxedo shoes, and the only sweatshirt I own because I didn't bring my real shoes or any pants. Wedding night? Pants? No thank you.

I felt like I should change before brunch.

2006-05-03T11:47:00.000-04:00

When I was driving with Steph, my new wife, I turned and asked her, "Can I write a book about our first year of marriage?"

She said yes, so here we are.

None of my friends are married so when I first got engaged I couldn't go to them for advice so I started looking online. I found great tips on finding a wedding dress, booking reception halls, what color bridesmaid dresses to get, but nothing that was in anyway useful to me as a man. I wanted practical things. Like how to keep hanging out with your single friends when you're married without it getting awkward. Or how to deal with the pros and cons of having the same sexual partner for the rest of your life. These things just weren't out there.

Hopefully this will be able to help any guy who finds himself in my position. If not, I hope it will at least entertain someone. At the very least I just hope it doesn't make Steph mad at me.