Conversation with my husband about Hitler:
Victor: This house is a wreck.
me: This house is a creative haven.
Victor: No. It’s just a wreck.
me: Well, I don’t know why you’re telling me about it. It’s not my job to clean the house.
Victor: Yeah, actually it is. Remember? You were going to quit your job and work on your book? And clean the house. And do the errands. That was the deal, remember?
me: Not really. That doesn’t sound like a deal I’d make.
Victor: “I’m going to be the best housewife EVER. I’ll just write and clean and cook.” Sound familiar?
me: Fuzzy. I was probably drunk when I said all that.
Victor: “FREE BLOW JOBS FOR EVERYBODY!”
me: Oh. That does sound like something I’d say. Are you mad about the blowjobs?
Victor: No. I’m mad about the fact that we both work at home and that this home is a fucking wreck.
me: It’s not that bad. You’re over-reacting because you’re kind of an anal freak.
Victor: You are using a frisbee as a plate.
me: What? I’m not-oh hang on, this is a frisbee. Weird.
Me: Dude. I’ll wash it afterward. It’s probably dishwasher safe.
Victor: It’s not about whether the frisbee is dishwasher safe. It’s about the fact that you’re using a fucking frisbee to eat on because there are no clean plates.
me: There are totally clean plates. I just saw this on the counter and grabbed it. Technically it’s a kick-ass plate. It even has a lip on it so you don’t spill anything.
Victor: How does this not bother you?!
me: IT TOTALLY BOTHERS ME. I can’t believe I ever agreed to clean the house in exchange for quitting my job. I can’t believe you’d even think that would work. If anything you should have known better when you made that deal. This is all sort of your fault.
Victor: I’m going to strangle you.
me: And I’m going to replace all our plates with frisbees. Because I’m a visionary.
Victor: I’m fucking serious.
me: SO AM I. THESE FRISBEE PLATES ARE AWESOME. Besides, I don’t have time to clean because I’m busy doing social media stuff.
Victor: What did you accomplish today?
me: A lot. Social media maven…stuff.
Victor: No. What exactly did you do today? Quantify it for me.
Me: It’s not quantifiable. There aren’t even metrics for the shit I do.
me: I re-watched the first season of Chad Vader.
me: For research.
Victor: The fuck?
me: AND I did this doodle about Hitler.
Victor: That’s…not even remotely funny.
me: Dude, it’s totally funny. You know? Because people always say ‘They only hate me because they’re jealous‘. But then it’s Hitler and everyone really does hate him and isn’t jealous at all?
Victor: Not funny.
me: I think I just need drawing lessons. It took me like two hours just to work out how to put a scarf on a stick figure. And that’s why I didn’t have time to clean all the soup I spilled in the microwave. By the way, don’t look in the microwave.
Victor: I’m going to lie down until the urge to kill you passes.
Then he left and never came back. And I had to clean the microwave because I’m responsible and also because it started to smell like clam chowder even in the bathrooms. This is why it sucks to be me. Also, I’m pretty sure that my husband is anti-Semitic.
PS. Victor says that not laughing at a joke about Hitler doesn’t make you anti-Semitic but that’s I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what an anti-Semite would say. They have terrible senses of humor.
Comment of the day: Your Hitler seems to be choking on a chicken bone. If that had happened to the real Hitler in the late 20’s so much could’ve been avoided. Of course then the Hitler jokes wouldn’t be as funny. ~ Carolyn Online