Sunday, May 25, 2014

MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND: 3 Things a Man Should Never Allow His Wife to Do



I know I’m gonna get in trouble with this one.  Look, I am not judging men who have wives who do these things; I’m just revealing something about ME that you may not know.

Being from Dallas, Texas, I’m just different.  Chivalry is in my heart.  I don’t always open doors for my wife.  I wish I were more attentive to that.  Fact is, by the time I’m helping shove nine children into our van, the wife’s already in the car.  Which brings me to the first point.  When I’m in the car with my wife…


1.  I NEVER LET HER DRIVE.
I use to think it was cool to doze off in the passenger seat while my girlfriend or date drove.  Then I got married.  Adéye doesn’t like that.  I didn’t understand at first, but now I like it.  You know why?  Because…
            I am The Man.  I love the feeling of power underneath my foot pedal.  (Anthony flexes his calf muscles.)  If Adéye ever doubted my manhood before, now she is convinced that I am a real man.  Correct that.  THE Man. 
Sometimes I pretend our 15-seat passenger van sports car has a stick shift.  Then I’ll rev that engine and take charge of that stick.  Yep.  I am The Man.  (Anthony gives the Zoolander “Magnum” look.)


2.  I NEVER LET HER MOW THE LAWN.
Come on, guys.  Really?  That’s just wrong.  That’s like me being on a construction site and saying, “Okay, darlin’, why don’t you take over the jackhammer for a while?”
            Now do I believe a woman is ABLE to mow her grass?  Absolutely.  There’s just something wrong if my wife were to come in the door after mowing and smell like B.O. and cut grass.  I’m sorry.  It’s just wrong.  Now if YOURS TRULY did, it’s sexy.
            But if the missus is out there sweating behind a Briggs-Stratton, I would just know that my neighbors are driving by, imagining me sitting on the couch looking like this…
 
                                   
  1. I NEVER LET HER DO THE BARBEQUE.
Period.  End of story.  Why?  Because only a real man can start a fire.  Oh, she can cook it okay.  But it’s the fire.  Did Michaelangelo let Guido the Janitor hack away with his hammer and chisel to finish off his David statue?  Did Michael Jordan hand the ball in midair to the popcorn seller to do his dunk for him?  Did Barack Obama let a video producer take the blame for the Benghazi attack?  (We'll save that for another time.)  What I'm saying is, if you're the BBQ Artist, you follow through with it.
            Sure, we men screw it up…oh…98% of the time.  But hey.  When it does get   
going, who’s your daddy?  And when we DO struggle getting a good fire going, we’ll never admit it.
            WIFE: “Hey, honey, can we put the chicken on the grill yet?”
            WE MEN: “Ugh, yeah, in a minute, honey.  I just bought the WORST charcoal!  Remind me never to buy charcoal from the Dollar Store again.”
            And that’s okay.  That’s one of those Rahab lies that God allows, like in the Old Testament.  (Don’t be surprised, ladies.  God’s a man, right?)  Of course, GOD’S fires are always perfect.  Case in point: Elijah with the prophets of Baal.  Now that was a fire.  That tells me that God could do a BBQ in a thunderstorm.  During Noah's time.  Under a waterfall.
            And remember the burning bush?  Men, we can finally kiss that lighter fluid goodbye.  God knows fire.  I didn't even talk about the biggest fire yet that's coming.  Mixed with a little brimstone, NOBODY can match that.

So on this Memorial Day weekend, guys, step to the plate and be a man!  Your wives will never look at you the same...



(In the preceding message, the author is immune from PCP—the Politically Correct Police.)

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