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.

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

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

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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…

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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.

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

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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.

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

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

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

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

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

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