You should have told her "because your breasts aren't that nice"
C'mon man! You gotta learn how to sweet talk dem ladies.
Aww but they are and I get them regularly so I must be doing something right.
You should have told her "because your breasts aren't that nice"
C'mon man! You gotta learn how to sweet talk dem ladies.
I could say all of the mushy **** that all of you are saying, but really, it boils down to one thing:
She puts up with my ****. Period.
She's one in a million, that's for sure.
The parts of her that are left look great in the fridge.
Let's face it, all our wives put up with the latter. And the former, for that matter.Your ******** or literally your excrement that stinks up the whole house?
Let's face it, all our wives put up with the latter. And the former, for that matter.
She's a good girl.
Loves her momma.
Loves Jesus.
And America too.
We have long days living in Reseda, a freeway running through our yard. But she deals with it well.
when I was a kid living in a twisted tortured trap, I prayed to God for help, complaining I might as well be living in Russia, in those Gulag camps. . . .
The idea came back at me. . . "If you can endure this, you can endure anything".
I went outta that sacred grove of pomegranates knowing I was tougher than the toughs. I must have exuded that attitude from then on, because everyone backed off and started talkin' nice to me, like.
my wife talks nice to me, too.
well, after she's thought about what she said first. . . .
Somehow, it seems, she's tougher than I am. Won't listen to anything I try to say, will automatically treat me like a babe in arms, and tell me to take off my boots at the door, wash my hands, give up my cow**** clothes, take a shower, and put on something clean. . . . then come sit down for supper.
Nobody ever calls her bluff. She's the boss of all bosses.
All I need to do is show up.
when I was a kid living in a twisted tortured trap, I prayed to God for help, complaining I might as well be living in Russia, in those Gulag camps. . . .
The idea came back at me. . . "If you can endure this, you can endure anything".
I went outta that sacred grove of pomegranates knowing I was tougher than the toughs. I must have exuded that attitude from then on, because everyone backed off and started talkin' nice to me, like.
my wife talks nice to me, too.
well, after she's thought about what she said first. . . .
Somehow, it seems, she's tougher than I am. Won't listen to anything I try to say, will automatically treat me like a babe in arms, and tell me to take off my boots at the door, wash my hands, give up my cow**** clothes, take a shower, and put on something clean. . . . then come sit down for supper.
Nobody ever calls her bluff. She's the boss of all bosses.
All I need to do is show up.
I'm thinking you mean "complementary". But maybe you don't.
She is 9 months prego and still worries about looking good for me. Not sure why.... she looks amazing. Amazing Mother, and deals with my grouchiness.
Dude, if she's 9 months pregnant YOU'RE the one that's supposed to be dealing with HER grouchiness.
Somehow my wife was so much more stable and chilled out during both of her pregnancies. If I could handle a ton of kids I'd just keep her constantly pregnant.