Sometimes when I'm not looking my wife reads from my computer. She knows from past experience if it's this forum that she will goofh and apply real world logic to a very emotional boys game. Kind of like those unspoken 8th grade locker room rules of insult engagement your mother could never fathom. But, my wife just had to ask after reading this one while I was busy with the porcelain pedistal. Note to self: leave up the Wall Street Journal site next time.
Wife: Honey why do so many players in your game complain that other players don't play the game correctly?
Me: Best I can tell after 10 years, they resent anything that interrupts their fun while they are getting a little.
Wife: I know you have told me over the years that there are no rules to your game. Don't they know that?
Me: Honey I'm not sure if this game ever was about rules so much as Hitech hit on the secret to male happiness.
Wife: Oh!!! And what would that be SIR...................
Me: Babes is it your birthday or our anniversary or something like that..........
Wife: We will get back to that right after you explain the secret to male happiness!!!
Me: Ok....We are our happiest whizzing down another males back and getting away with it. That's the secret of this game and why there are no rules.
Wife: That's horrible. Is this how you treat me?????
Me: No Honey it's a guy thing. If you watch House Wives of New Jersey, you ladies do the same thing but, in a different arena.
Wife: How can you compair me to them??
Me: I'm going to assume you mean the Jersey girls and not my flying game?
Wife: I don't know if I like where this is going.
Me: Sweetie, you are a saint, and guys are their absurd happiest whizzing on each other, or complaing about being whizzed on.
Wife: Ok, I feel better. But, thats just insane abusing each other like that and paying to be part of it.
Me: Don't worry Honey. We are paying for the knowlege that we can get revenge in the game that most of us only dream about in real life, while being whizzed on by circumstances and having to smile and call it rain.
Wife: It still reads like a bunch of immature Jr. High boys whining at each other. And I used to teach 8th grade Jr. High.
Me: Sweetie the only difference between Jr. High girls and the Jersey girls, is the number of wrinkles, silicon bags, botox and suger daddy money. Whining and revenge is the greatest sport on earth. You don't have to be special or a saint to play the game.
Wife: You are horrible.
Me: Yes but, I love you..................
