Advice to My Next Wife

Come ‘ere, you great big hunk of heavily insured masculinity…

I don’t care what you say: If I tell you what I just mumbled, you WILL be mad… so don’t ask.

If you scratch me behind the ears for fifteen minutes a day, I will never give you a lick of trouble.

If I say, “I love this movie”, it isn’t code for, “Please talk to me throughout this entire movie”

If you talk through an entire movie and THEN scratch me behind the ears for fifteen minutes, that is a karmically null set of actions…

Do not walk behind me. Walk by my side through life, as my friend… or, better yet, walk in front of me to deter attackers.

I had a pop-up timer installed in my shoulder to indicate that I’ve absorbed as much verbal abuse as I can.

The only tattoo I’ll accept on you is one of my face so I can pretend you had a mirror installed in the small of your back or shoulder.

I don’t mind your practicing yoga as long as I don’t have to participate in any discussion of yoga.

Don’t pay me a compliment. It disorients me. I get paranoid and start searching the basement for pods.

If you want to get physically intimate, first, put down the knife.

You can convince me to dance but you’ll never convince me to enjoy it.

Sometimes, I want sex. Sometimes, I want food but if you substitute sex for food, I probably won’t notice.

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