We All Do Dumb Things

A few nights ago I was having dinner with Jill, her sisters, and one of their friends. Since it was my first time meeting this girl, I had a number of questions for her.

"Where are you from?"

"Where do you live now?"

"What's the dumbest thing you've ever done?"

I'm routinely fascinated by other peoples' answers to this question. Generally speaking, we're all relatively "with it." And yet we've all done some really, really dumb things.

Here's mine:

I was 17. There was a girl - let's call her PJ - who I desperately wanted to impress. After brainstorming a list of ways I could win over PJ's heart, I decided to take her on a fancy date to The City (i.e., downtown). See PJ wasn't like most of the girls in my suburban high school. She was chic. And clearly she would appreciate a Night of Culture (i.e., dinner at Olive Garden and then a play, which sounds so much more sophisticated than dinner-and-a-movie, right?). To get ready for The Big Date, I did an impressive amount of prep-work. I got my car washed. I burned a mix CD with 16 hand-picked tracks. (BTW, for you youngins out there, burning a CD was A BIG DEAL in 1996.) I even drove to the theater the night before, because, let's face it, it's hard to look smoove when you're lost.

So the night started out delightful. Dinner at the OG was exquisite. The tunes were clearly working their magic; PJ couldn't help but rock side-to-side in her seat when No Diggity and How Do You Want It? came on. I found a premo parking spot in a lot directly across from the theater. We went to the show. It was OK, but PJ acted like it was the best thing she'd ever seen. (I think it was her way of indirectly thanking me for taking her to something other than a movie.)

As we were walking out to my car, I began searching for my keys. "Hmm...this is not cool," I remember thinking to myself. I wanted to have my keys ready by the time we got to PJ's side of the car. I did NOT want to be fumbling for them when my fair lady was ready to enter the Jackmobile. When we got about 20 feet away from my car, however, I abruptly stopped searching for my keys. That's because I could clearly hear No Diggity blaring from my parked ride. Once we got about 5 feet away, I picked up another sound: the purring of my '87 Honda Accord's engine.

That's when I realized I had done one of the dumbest things ever. I had left my car running for 2+ hours - unattended and UNLOCKED - in Downtown Minneapolis on a Friday night. Apparently I was so excited to hop out of my car to open up PJ's door that I forgot to turn my car off. Or turn the music off. Or take out the keys. Or lock the doors.

But of course I wasn't about to let PJ know that this was a mistake. Rather, I played it off. "Look, babe, the car's all warmed up for us." She gave me a look that was equal parts confused and concerned, and no parts impressed.

So, what's the dumbest thing you've ever done?
___________________

Jill's Two Cents: Jack, you can add one more thing to the list of dumb things you've done---you told me this story. From now on I will be expecting you to open my car door each and every time we go anywhere, and I will also want a warm car waiting for me at the end of each date we have in the winter. The bar has officially been raised!

Jack's Advice: Not Exactly a Kodak Moment

Fellas, this one's for you. Maybe you're like me and you enjoy playing practical jokes. And maybe - just maybe - you've thought about playing the following joke on your girlfriend:

Step 1: remove all of the photos of your girlfriend hanging up in your living room

Step 2: refill the now empty picture frames with photos of ex-girlfriends

Step 3: make sure at least one of the photos is of an ex-girlfriend in a string-bikini

Step 4: next time you and your girlfriend are hanging out in the living room, gaze longingly up at the pictures of your exes and say, "man, we had some good times."

Take my advice: your girlfriend's not going to find this "joke" nearly as funny as you do. And you'll probably be in the doghouse* for a day week month or two.
___________
* (Fortunately for me, Jill really loves her dog, so her doghouse is actually pretty nice.)
___________

Jill's Two Cents: Yes, Jack actually did this, about 3 months into our relationship. No, I'm not kidding, and yes, I wish I were. When I first noticed the change of photos, I rubbed my eyes, sort of like you would if you were in a cartoon and you saw something that couldn't possibly be there because it was so ridiculous (like a man with sensitivity!), you know? Then I got mad, which was made even worse by Jack then saying "What? I did this to my last girlfriend and she thought it was funny."

(deep breath)

(another deep breath)

Luckily, after MUCH coaching, Jack has learned that a) we do not pull practical jokes that involve putting up bikini shots of ex-girlfriends who happen to be tall, blond and thin; and b) we do not say things like "my ex-girlfriend was so much more laid back than you!" or anything that might at all make it sound like your ex-girlfriend could in any way be superior to your current girlfriend.

Staycation Report, Part II: ToxiCleanse!

For Staycation Report Part I, click here.

Jack is a pretty competitive person. And when I say that, I mean he is competitive about pretty much everything. For our second date, we played board games at his house, and he actually threatened to throw me out his 21st story window after I beat him. I think he was serious and maybe I should have run for my life at that point, but I didn't. So here we are: we compete over everything.

Jack and I both had full physicals a couple months back, and he even wanted to compete over that. "What was your cholesterol? I bet mine is lower"; "My potassium was SO good, the doctor was really impressed." Every single number he wanted to compare and compete. This is partially because Jack and I debate a lot over who has a healthier diet. I know that I'm the one with the healthier diet, but he can't accept that. Sure, his numbers were better than mine overall, but I chalk that up to genetics. Frankly, with my genetics it is amazing I'm not a raging alcoholic with diabetes and a weight problem, possibly also locked up in a mental institution. Oh, and I'd probably have a heart attack in that mental institution - because my genetics are THAT awesome. So the fact that my numbers are all within a healthy range is kind of amazing if you ask me.

Anyway, during our Staycation back in mid-December, Jack & I were each supposed to plan a day of activities. One of my chosen activities, because I am weird hippy and believe almost anything anyone tells me, was to go to this spa and get a ToxiCleanse. This means we went to this place and put our feet in buckets of water with some ion-cleansing-electro-magnetic-other-sciencey-words-that-confuse-people wristband thingy, and it purified our bodies over the course of a half hour (like magic!). The buckets of water turned murky with our toxins. Jack kept inspecting each bucket, proclaiming "your bucket is dirtier, you are so toxic!" and other comments like that. I insisted his was murkier, which he dismissed.

At the end, when the guy came to turn off our ToxiCleanse machines and dumped out the water, he said to Jack, "wow, yours is even dirtier than hers." I guess what I'm trying to say is I WON.

Jack's Two Cents: What the guy said was, "wow yours is even darker than hers." Darker, not dirtier. What Jill failed to mention was that each type of toxin had a different color (e.g., alcohol was black), so the fact that my water was darker does NOT mean that I'm more toxic. (It just means I drink more red wine, which is very good for your heart.) Jill's water included lighter but grosser and more dangerous toxins. Remember all of those white swirls that represented toxic flatulence (no, I'm not joking.) Didn't you also have flammable levels of yeast dripping out of your soles? I don't mean to be crude, but Jill's water was actually curdling!?!?! Hands down, I'm less toxic. So I win. End of story.

This just in: Jack makes things up. Love, Jill.

Staycation Report, Part I: When Jack Sold Jill Out

This past week Jack and I were on vacation. More accurately, we were on STAYcation. That's what you do when the economy is so bad you're not sure if you'll have a job next month, your student loans feel suffocating, and all you care about is being together anyway so why bother traveling? (Cue "awwww"s and vomiting). Instead of going somewhere sunny where we could sit on the beach and drink martinis all day long, we opted to stay in the frozen tundra we call home, where we were treated to several days in a row of below zero temperatures (you can see how happy we were with that to the right). Spot was also less than thrilled with the weather, but pleased as pie (can pie be pleased?) to have so much attention all week.

Anyway, Jack and I have a number of stories to share about our staycation, but one I'd like to discuss first is a trip we took to a local comedy club. Somehow when I bought my tickets I must have specified FRONT ROW because that's exactly where we ended up. This made me nervous immediately because comics sometimes like to mock the people in the front. I don't like to be mocked, you see, which I know is quite a unique characteristic.

About 30 minutes in to the main act, the comedian hadn't made fun of anyone yet, so I started to feel a little more comfortable. Well, it was that and the wine, which will always put a girl at ease (and make a girl easy - ba-dup-dup-dup - I'm here all week folks! Hahaha!).

HOWEVER. At one point, the comic - a lady - said something to the effect of "you men know how we women can be a little crazy at times...". Suddenly I feel Jack's hand leave my shoulder. In horror, I watch as he raises it above my head, almost in slow motion, and POINTS down at me, while sporting a huge grin. Did I mention we were in the front row? EVERYONE stared at me, and the comic even pointed out Jack's "hilarious" move - "look, this guy up here even pointed at his girlfriend!", she said. I think she did that just in case anyone in the entire room missed the fact that my boyfriend totally sold me out! I turned 16 shades of red.

Jack, of course, thought he was just about the funniest human being in the world. I elbowed him in the ribs and reminded him it's never a good idea to mess with crazy people. Muhahaha!

Jack's Two Cents

I must not have heard the comedian correctly. I thought she said, "you men know how women can be a little sexy at times." Sexy, not crazy. Sorry for the misunderstanding.

That Time Jill Got Sick

I think you learn a lot about your significant other the first time you get sick. Over the past couple days, I have had a cold, and I have learned that Jack is desperately afraid of getting said cold. In fact, you would think I have Ebola or the monkey pox or something.

Don't get me wrong, he has been fantastic in a lot of ways during this time. When I was home from work, he took time out of his very busy day to bring me lunch, tissues, and orange juice. When I had to leave town earlier this week unexpectedly, he took care of Spot for me, and even did my laundry. I appreciate these things - A LOT. But for me there is nothing that can take the place of actually spending time together.

I should probably blame my mother for this. When I'd get the stomach flu as a little girl, she would stay up all night with me, holding my hair back each and every time I threw up. If I had a fever or a cold, she'd bring me cool washcloths and hold them on my forehead. To this day, if I call her when I'm sick, she asks if I'd like her to make a 7+ hour drive to come take care of me. I'm not kidding.

Then there's Jack. I have met his parents and I can't imagine that they would have locked him in the cellar when he came down with something, letting him come out only when he could prove the illness had passed....and yet, that's basically how Jack has turned out. And I suppose I either have to get used to it or cry until I get my way. I think I'll go with the latter.

Jack's Two Cents: I'd like to comment more about this post, but I'm too nervous to touch Jill's germy keyboard. I don't want to get the bird flu or whatever it is that she has.

Hypothetically Speaking...

I need to tell you all something: Jack has a problem. It's a pretty serious problem and may someday result in a significant brain injury - because it's possible that eventually I'll kick him in the head.

You see, Jack LOVES throwing out impossible, ridiculous, and bizarre hypothetical situations to see what I'll answer. It seems this exercise can be prompted by any number of things, but usually is a result of me saying something absolute like "I will never eat meat ever again".

Enter Jack: "You'll never eat meat EVER again? What if the government imposed a law and you HAD to eat meat, and you could only choose 1 kind of commonly eaten animal to not eat. What would you pick?"

"That would never happen."

"But what if it did?"

"But why would the government make me eat something I don't want to eat? That doesn't even make sense. Why do they care what I eat??"

"Come on! You only get to pick one that you don't have to eat. You'd pick pigs, right?"

"I suppose, but it's never going to happen so I don't have to make a decision, now do I?"

Or sometimes I'll proclaim that I "hate" something - a real no-no in Jack's book - and I am berated with questions about hatred, even if I was just saying it willy-nilly. For example, if I say "I hate Paris Hilton and everything she stands for", Jack will create any number of scenarios in which perhaps I would NOT hate Paris Hilton.

"Would you hate her if the two of you were the only two people left on earth and you HAD to be friends?"

"Who would make us be friends if there's no one else left on earth?"

"Well, I mean if you really got to know her I bet you'd find she's a nice girl. You shouldn't say you hate her."

"But I do, is the thing. And we're not going to be the last two humans on the planet, so I don't have to worry about her changing my mind on that."

"Well, what if Spot were drowning and Paris Hilton risked her life and jumped into the ocean to save him? THEN would you hate her?"

I think it drives him nuts when I won't just answer, but as Kenneth on 30 Rock says: "I don't do hypothetical situations - that's like lying to your brain." Plus, it's kind of fun making him re-define the hypothetical again and again until he gets so frustrated he just stops. It's not a quick process, but eventually he gives up.

Jack's Two Cents: The people who now say "that would never happen" about mandated meat consumption are the same people who once said "that would never happen" when asked a hypothetical question involving a black president. Also, aren't you familiar with the importance of scenario planning, Jill? The first step in scenario planning is often to identify the worst or most unexpected scenario and then figure out how you'd respond in such a situation. When I ask you these hypothetical questions, you see, I'm really just helping prepare you to make the best decision when you actually find yourself stranded on an island with Paris Hilton. You will thank me one day.

So I'm Dating a Memory Murderer

Jill and I were cruising around in my ‘64 Chevy Impala ’06 Nissan Altima, listening to some smooth R&B, when Jazmine Sullivan’s new song "Bust Your Windows" came on. For those of you unfamiliar with said song, here’s a sampling of Ms. Sullivan’s lyrics:

I bust the windows out your car
You know I did it ‘cause I left my mark
Wrote my initials with the crowbar
And then I drove off into the dark

What happened next is what we in the business call a “red flag.” Jill started singing along with A LOT of passion in her voice. (Jill normally just hums along to the tune – typically because she doesn’t remember any of the words – so it seemed extremely alarming when she started channeling her inner-Jennifer Hudson to this particular song.)

The whole song is about the joys of damaging an ex’s property. And since Jill ended up singing the last two choruses at the top of her lungs (“I BUST THE WINDOWS OUT YOUR CAR”), I naturally had to ask her if she’d ever damaged an ex’s property.

I was thinking she might say something like “I stole his favorite CD” or “I rubbed his toothbrush in my armpit.” Clearly I underestimated her. What Jill admitted to doing can only be described by two words: pure evil. Here’s what she told me:

“I had an ex-boyfriend who went on a vacation with his new girlfriend. When he got back into town, we got together and he wanted to show me some of his photos. While I was acting like I was scanning through his pictures, I was actually deleting all of his photos from the memory card! He got pretty upset, but I just acted like it was an accident. And I have to admit I felt pretty good afterwards!”

Excuse me? Who does that? Someone who’s evil, that’s who.

What if he had a once-in-a-lifetime image stored on that memory card? What if it was a picture of him and his dying grandma? What is Jill going to do to me if we ever decide to go our separate ways? Wait a second…maybe her telling me this story is just her way of using a fear tactic to lock me down? Hmm…

Jill's Two Cents:

What Jack isn't mentioning is that this "new girlfriend" was procured prior to breaking up with the old girlfriend (i.e., ME). So, let's check the score:

This guy broke my heart into a million little pieces by cheating on me, then took pictures of them together and waved it in my face.
VERSUS
I deleted a few pictures of his [wildly unattractive] new girlfriend from his camera.

I'd say that made us STILL NOT EVEN CLOSE TO EVEN. But now I guess I probably shouldn't tell Jack all the follow up things I did to even the score. Sheesh! Ya tell a guy you destroyed a few memories and he gets all paranoid!

Also, I've decided not to leave my toothbrush unattended anymore. Are you pit-swabbing it?!?!?

Best. Weirdest. Gift. Ever.

I’m a big fan of giving gifts for no reason. And an even bigger fan of receiving gifts for no reason. And I’m an even bigger fan when the gift is a bit unusual.

Over the past few months, Jill has given me some very sweet gifts for no reason. A CD. A box of organic cereal. Even a new yoga mat.

But yesterday she gave me quite possibly the best-slash-weirdest gift I’ve ever received.

She gave me a tub of Playtex Femcare Personal Cleansing Cloths.

At first I was really confused. (Especially after I read the following description on the box: “Playtex Personal Cleansing Cloths help keep you feeling fresh and clean, even during your period. These super soft disposable wipes are incredibly gentle on your delicate skin.”) But then I remembered the entry I wrote a while back about wanting a bidet and the gift made a lot more sense.

I’m still not sure how comfortable I am having a Playtex Femcare box sitting on top of my toilet, but I can assure you that I’m going to find a way to test these “wet wipes” out for a while. Regular toilet paper just seems so uncivilized now.

Best. Weirdest. Gift. Ever.

Jill's Two Cents: Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking in encouraging this kind of neuroses. I am starting to get a little concerned about Jack. I think he has a problem, and now I've gone and made myself an enabler! Is it time for an intervention? Then again, do I really want to discourage personal hygiene? Seems like that could be slippery slope... Plus, you really should have seen how his little face lit up once he realized what the purpose of the gift was--like a kid on Christmas morning. Priceless.

Time to Take Out the Trash

Jack keeps a little box in his hall closet where all my jewelry and hair pins go if I leave them unattended in his house for longer than 3 minutes. The first time I got a look at this little box I noticed that several - SEVERAL - of the items in it did not belong to me. Lip gloss, bobby pins, earrings....all not mine!

"Um...who does all this stuff belong to?"

"People...."

"Why are you keeping it if you don't know who owns it?"

"Well, because what if they come back for it?"

"How long has this stuff been in here?"

"I don't know. But you never know when someone might realize that they're missing an earring and call me up and ask for it."

"I think we should throw this stuff."

"What?!?! We can't do that! What if someone asks me for it?!"

(blank stare) "Yes, we should toss it. I think only my stuff should be in this box. If the other girls wanted their stuff, they would have called you by now, don't you think?"

We had to have this conversation several times before this stuff was actually thrown out, and even then it was only because I got pretty tipsy and picked all the non-Jill stuff out and threw it in the trash. It was fun, let me tell you. I flicked each and every hair pin into that trash bin (flick, flick, flick!) with pure glee and now I know that everything in there belongs to me, me, me! It is a lovely feeling.

Anyway, really, I know times are tough and all, but after 3 months what kind of girl is going to call him up and say "hey, I think I left a 1 cent bobby pin at your house, have you come across it?" An idiot kind of girl, that's who, and who wants to see that kind of girl again anyway?

Jack’s two cents: The problem is that I really can’t tell the difference between $4 earrings and precious jewels. Maybe that gold earring with the seven intertwined silver hoops and the “MADE IN CHINA” stamp was a family heirloom dating back to the Egyptian pyramids? Or maybe that blackberry lip gloss had some sentimental value? Maybe the girl’s grandmother used to bake her blackberry muffins and this $2.99 artifact provided her with priceless memories? What kind of cold, ruthless soul would simply toss those items out like a used Q-tip?

__________________

PS. If you are a lady who might have left some really dark lip gloss at Jack's, sorry, but I tossed it. It's kind of like finder's keepers except in this case it was finder's throwers.

PPS. I would like to note that I gave Jack over a month to put the non-Jill items in a different box so that it didn't mix with my $4 earrings precious jewels, but he never did that, so....

Free Passes

Jack is obsessed with asking me if he can get a "free pass" should he ever find himself alone in a dimly lit room with a hot celebrity. Every time we go to a concert, he asks if I could find a ride home in case he makes it back stage and so-and-so wants to make out with him. These conversations always go the same:

Jack: So later tonight if [Duffy, Kelis, etc] is eyeing me during her set and she gives me the come hither look and then her bodyguard comes and says she wants me to come back stage and then I get back there and she comes on to me, can I make out with her and you won't get angry?

Me: Why would that happen? Isn't she married?

Jack: But what if it does happen? Can I have a free pass?

Me: Well, I don't think it's going to happen.

Jack: Are you saying that [Duffy, Kelis, etc] won't find me attractive? Is that what you're saying?

Me: No, of course she would, but I just think it's pretty unlikely that she's going to get her bodyguard to fetch you so that she can have a night of passion with you.

Jack: Well if you think it's so unlikely you should just say yes.

Me: But what if it does happen? I mean, if you're backstage making out with [Duffy, Kelis, etc] do I have permission to get a ride home from someone else at the concert? Like a hot dude?

Jack: You only get free passes with famous people.

Apparently there are a lot of rules about this "free pass" business.

Anyway, the other night I get a text message that he's been invited to a Neko Case concert. Earlier he had texted me that in addition to being a singer, Neko is also an animal rights activist, something he knows is near & dear to my heart. His follow up text read: "Do I have a pass with Neko? Her voice is smoother than blood orange sorbet."

"If she's into animals, sure."

What I meant by that is that any woman who's into protecting animals is okay by me....but I guess that didn't come across in my text, because this is what I got back: "Wait, did you just call me an animal?"

Woops.

Jack's Two Cents

What Jill fails to mention is that if she happened to find herself in a dimly lit room with Robert Downey Jr. or Chris Martin, she wouldn’t even have the decency to request a free pass. It’d be on like Donkey Kong, with no courtesy text messages preceding her rendezvous. Now that I think about it, the same would probably be true even if it was just Twitch from So You Think You Can Dance?