"10 Things Husbands Should Never Do"

Recently, Yahoo! posted an article called, “10 Things Husbands Should Never Do” by Diane Oatis (apparently reprinted from Woman’s Day Magazine).

I would be willing to cut Ms. Oatis some slack here, given that her husband is apparently a douche of the highest proportion, but when reading her “10 Things” I’m inclined to suggest that perhaps Ms. Oatis should have thought long and hard about her choice in mate rather than hook up with that guy she met at the frat party/local bar.

Believe it or not, there are some men who aren’t jackballs. I certainly won’t defend the lot of us, but there are a few that have a bit of common sense and decency straining to get out (like a belly through a button after Thanksgiving dinner).

In deference to the many women out there who think like Ms. Oatis (and yes, you all are jackballs, too), here’s my line by line commentary on her thought-provoking list.

Guys, we love you, we really do. But as wonderful as you are, every so often you do something that makes us want to jump out the nearest window (or push you out first). Please, please, don’t ever…

Ladies, we love you, too – honestly. But just as much as drivel like this makes you want to go, “Uh huh, you go sister!!” we have to choke back just a little vomit as it comes up to the top of our throats.

1. Offer to “babysit” your own kids. When your 16-year-old neighbor does it, it’s called babysitting. When a parent does it, it’s called child care, and it lasts for at least 18 years. Get it?

Ok…. Cool. From now on, we’ll call it “lock down?!?

Seriously… it’s an effing word. Get a grip. Ok, so if I playfully suggest that I “babysit” while you go out and do something, that’s wrong.

Fine – I promise not to offer to do that again.

2. Imply that office work is harder than housework. At the end of a hard day, there may be smoke coming out of your ears, but let’s face it: You’ve basically been sitting on your butt. That same smoke is coming out of our ears too—but we’ve cleaned the house, shuttled the kids around, run errands all over town and lugged grocery bags besides. When we say we’re exhausted, we are exhausted.

Sure, office work is mostly sitting in one place. Sounds easy, right?

Let’s trade places though – you try to spend 10 hours sitting in an uncomfortable office chair, not moving, and staring at a fixed-distance, flat monitor that makes your eyes feel like someone’s sticking pins in them, all the while trying to get some insipid bit of data processing or letter writing or other crap, busy-work done while someone 3 feet away from you hums the theme to Baywatch over and over.

Then when you’ve finally gotten to the point that you can drown them out with your own thoughts of your failed life, have someone come and interrupt you to do a menial task that they could have done themselves in less time than it would take them to walk to you. Once you’ve sorted that, lather, rinse, and repeat so that you spend the entire day doing the one goddamn thing that should’ve only taken you about ½ hour were it not for all of the interruptions.

When you’re done, get your feet to actually propel you out of the chair (that your ass now closely resembles), find your way to your car (in the dark, since the office has yet to install those parking lot safety lights), drive home (trying to focus on ANYTHING that’s more than 18” from your head, and then be assaulted by children who either a) want to jump all over you from not seeing you all day, b) want to escape the wretched witch that has been beating them, or c) force the woman who you married to yell that “it’s your fault that the little bastard lit the carpet on fire and you go and deal with them because I’ve had it!”

When the children are finally asleep, spend the remaining 2 hours of your night paying bills.

Wow…. when I think about it like that, my cushy office job sounds like a f—king vacation.

3. Give a home appliance as a gift. Forgive us if we can’t work it up for this one. A new washing machine? Really? Can we get you some new snow tires?

Diane, you ignorant slut!!

In this economy you should be damn lucky you can afford the necessities, never mind the extras. You don’t want the washing machine as a gift. Sure, fine, I totally understand that. I’m not insensitive to your wishes. I’ll buy you that beautiful anniversary bracelet and for stocking stuffers an aluminum tub and a washboard.

You know what I got for a holiday gift? Nothing, because I’m busting my ass trying to make a living in this s--tstorm we call a “recession.”

4. Buy us the “cougar” perfume. Under our crew-neck sweaters may beat the heart of an untamed vixen—but most of us don’t want to smell like one. (Nice try, though.)

Wow. So you want the expensive gift, but you don’t want to smell good for us?

Hmm…. Tell you what – act like the girl I fell head over heels with (you know the one that had sex with me while driving 80 down the I-19 corridor just before I dropped her off after driving 260 miles back from campus so she could surprise her mother for Christmas) and I’ll give you the same kind of gifts I gave you back then.

Come to think of it… didn’t I give you some perfume that Christmas??

5. Brag about your driving. This is supposed to let us know that ours isn’t so great. If my husband tells me one more time that he’s been “accident-free since 1978,” I’m going to reach over, grab the wheel and make the car swerve into something, just to shut him up.

Umm… the phrase is “Accident-free since Eighty-three” – or ‘73 or ‘93 or ‘03. You see it’s supposed to rhyme and be cute.

Remember ladies, you’re gentlemen are going to brag about the only things we have any control over. When we’re behind the wheel, you can’t really f—k with that. Our lives are generally a series of one “have to” after the next, so when we can exert some control over an area of life (small as it may be) then we’ll do so. And if we do well at it, we’re gonna celebrate it.

This holds true for driving, fantasy football league, the amount of ketchup we put on our eggs, the strength and stamina of our erections, and what kind of beer we choose to drink. (I’m sure that there’s something else, but I forget just what at the moment).

6. Be unimpressed by a meal that took a lot of time and trouble. I don’t know whose fault this is (Food Network? Julie and Julia?), but every so often we get the idea that it would be fun to make stock and spend the day basting. If the result is less than earth-shattering, say something nice anyway.

I’m with you here, D. You should get credit and accolades for extra trouble for a good meal. S--t, if I make a good meal for you, I’d like to know you appreciate the effort.

But you and I both know that not every meal you say you spent all day on is something you spent all day doing – you and I both know that there’s a lot that can look, taste, or smell good that is simple. And I’m not going to go bonkers for everything you make – not even all the things that you work really hard on.

In the same way, I don’t expect you to orgasm every time we have sex. It’s just not a realistic expectation. Oh, sure, I’m definitely going to work hard to see that you enjoy it – but do I want you to fake it if you don’t?

You’re not really helping anyone with that approach. Are you?

7. Buy clothes without trying them on. We know that the second you get into a department store you start to feel faint, but do us a favor and take the extra five minutes. Otherwise, you know who gets stuck with the returns?

F—k you.

You know why we shop in five minutes and you get “stuck” with all the returns? It’s really simple. By the time we get out of the office and get to the store, the first thing we hear is, “Hello, [Name of Store] shoppers. [Name of Store] will be closing in five minutes. Please make your selections and take them to the nearest register and we will be glad to help you with your purchase.”

Weekends are no better. We can use the 30 minutes between Little League and the gymnastics meet to go shop, but, unfortunately, little Jack has to get his hair cut.

Tell you what – I’ll go and get the clothes, and if they don’t fit, we can keep them until the kids grow into them.

8. Know it all, especially in public. Oh, honey. While you’re going on at length about whatever it is, we’re taking the temperature of the room, and we know everyone’s starting to fidget.

Hey, Diane, thanks for the constructive criticism. I mean it. I didn’t realize I was coming across like that. Thank you.

NOTE to Jackballs readers:

I’m being sincere here, you cynical bastards ~ learn to take a little criticism ~ you got nothing to be touchy about. Cool?

Nothing but love for ya!!

– Jack

9. Say anything remotely critical about our new haircut. Sometimes getting a new cut goes well; sometimes it doesn’t. Usually we know the difference. Don’t rub it in.

That’s not us being assholes. That’s us being in shock that you thought that the haircut that you saw on the professional model/actress would actually suit you. Hell, you don’t even have the same type of hair as her. Hers is straight and fine and yours is thick and wavy.

Honestly, we’re not trying to rub it in. But, I mean, come on. Who are you tying to kid?

10. Expect a medal for doing a little housework. Umm…it’s your house too, right? For now, we’ll give you the bronze. Maybe someday, if you work hard enough, you can pick up a gold.

Okay, but don't say a f—king word when I ask you to get out there and figure out a way to turn your sweatshirt bedazzling hobby into some extra money so that we can pay for the new washing machine that you overstuffed (I mean, s--t you just said I wasn't doing the housework) since we used all the cash I earned on an anniversary bracelet and some perfume (that, apparently, you didn't want).

Alright, so I just read my responses and I've got one more thing to say  - I take it back - that bit where I said that her guy was a jackball. Nope, I'm going to reconsider. He's not a jackball - he's a scapegoat.