Rules To Being My Wife: Part IV

It’s been a while since I have bestowed upon you, the kind people who visit my blog, the importance of marriage and how I think a marriage should be. I am not an expert in marriage and I don’t know the first thing about it. I say often that I will never get married and I will never plant my seed inside her and bring a little version of me into this crazy and violent world but, I sort of want to get married. Shocking, isn’t? I do want a wife to be there and carry a little me for 9 months. Hopefully it’s a little boy cause if I had a little girl, all my knowledge of being a boy will be of no use. If the time ever comes that I do get married and she accepts my peace-offering, she will need to be fully aware that marriage isn’t just cuddling and talking about nothingness. It’s about being there for me and doing what is right, which is whatever I say. Don’t sass me. I am man. I am husband. I am law. Women’s rights are just as silly as creationism.

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Rules To Being My Wife: III

I have no desire to get married at this time. Maybe later I will. Maybe if I find a cheap and willing lady I will get married. But I will never find one, at least one that is willing. It’s been a while since I’ve been on those Russian bride sites. When I do get married and my wife is purchased for a few bucks, I will be enforcing a few set of rules. She better follow them. She will be my wife. She’ll be my property. I paid good money for her and I am not taking my chances if the thing doesn’t come with a 30 day money back guarantee.

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So You Wanna Be My Wife? Part 2

Continuing on from the last post, I am going to give you more reasons rules a woman must follow if she is wanting to marry me. I don’t want people to think that I am coming across as a chauvinistic pig. I am speaking from my heart. I am telling you what I expect out of my wife. We all have standards. We all want the perfect spouse. While some may seem old fashion or wrong in today’s world, they are what I believe.

5. Two legs good, four legs baaaad.

While this isn’t much of a ‘wife rule’, I want to make something perfectly clear before she brings along another mouth to feed. Pets can fall under the same section as children. But since babies ( excluding those from the South) have two legs, they are okay. We’ll touch on the idea of children next. For now, we are discussing pets. I don’t like pets. I like some pets. I’ll be cool with a snake. Not all four-legged animals are bad. I mean, I like rats. I am cool with hamsters. I just don’t like the ones that are large enough to wander the house alone or ones that fit inside a purse. Women like cats. I don’t. I did but after the family cat died, as did my love for the feline. They are just as bad as women. Stuck up and think they can do whatever they want. I don’t want two stuck up [censored] trying to run the house. What about the dog? A dog is a man’s best friend. But they lick their own ass and that is just wrong. I am forewarning my future wife (finger’s crossed) that she is aware that no creature will be tagging along with us when we decide to say, “I do”. I will be the bread winner in this family. Since I make the money and people who have money, have power. I’ll have the power and I’ll have the say in everything. No pets. If I am going to be at work making money and making a difference in this world, you’ll be at home tending to the rigorous chores of cooking, cleaning, and dry walling. You won’t even have time to feed (nor the money to buy the food) or take Fluffy out for a walk. Be a good wife and stay inside.

6. No breeding.

I imagine most women dream about getting married. Finding that perfect man and after he lands that perfect corporate job, they can think about kids. Yes. I said, kids. That isn’t a mistake. Women want kids. Meaning more than one. I am okay with zero. Kids are messing creatures. They need love and care. I understand the whole concept of the leash idea. You can’t leave them alone for a second. Who knows what trouble those creatures will get themselves into. I don’t think I can handle nine months of a nagging wife. Actually, you nag all the time but for nine months, its probably going to be uber annoying. If I can’t handle it, how the hell is she going to? For nine months, she’ll have to don the apron, wash the clothes, clean the gutters, and mow the lawn. Do all that with a belly the size of a Buick.

Before I go on with my thought about children, I must explain the whole how babies are made thing. I am cool with that. I have no problem with the making the baby routine. But there has to be a safety net. I will advise my wife to go under the knife for that. If she wants, she can hire a sailor to help tie the knot. What ever route she goes, I am all for it. But in no way will I have a doctor tinker with my wee little winkie. That’s off limits to everyone but two people. Me and my wife.

Back to the topic on hand. You’re welcome to babysit the nieces and the nephews. We can watch them. They’ll be trained already. Since we don’t have a pet (as stated above), there will be no litter box to even help when the kids need to use the facilities. I need my sleep and so do you. I can’t be bothered by the 3am calls of a crying baby. I need to get a good night’s rest if I am going to work tomorrow to support the both of us. You’ll need your rest too. You have to be up early to make me a hearty breakfast before I leave for work that day. We’re both busy people and a baby will just throw everything for a loop. To add, how do people have 2.5 kids? If by some chance we were to have children and I hope to God we don’t, what half do I want? The crying half or the pooping half? It’s a tough call.

7. Opinions.

We all have them. We all want to speak our minds and tell the other what we’re thinking. In marriage, your opinion is going away like your last name. Since we’re getting married and law states that you take my last name, it’s only logical that you take my opinion as well. When a woman gets married, she loses two things. She loses her last name and her opinion. We should think the same. You shouldn’t be thinking on your own. Don’t question me when I say something. Don’t try to think yourself. A woman’s brain is much smaller than a man’s brain. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. A woman’s job is to listen. You should be aware of everything I like and do. Don’t call me and ask what I want to eat. Don’t ask what color of wallpaper you should buy. That information should already be instilled somewhere in your memory bank. I can’t spend my time answering all your questions. We’re a couple.

I don’t ever want to hear you say, “You know what I am thinking?”. I honestly don’t care. I have no desire to hear what you have to say. Understand that you’re welcome to have your likes and dislikes. I can’t change that. But don’t ever question my authority. I am man. I am law.  Don’t berate me about drinking or smoking. If I am still smoking and drinking when we marry, then you’re going to have to deal with it. I don’t want you to try and give me a speech about my health.  I understand both are unhealthy but I do what I enjoy. You like cleaning. You don’t see me telling you to stop. Never under mind me, ever. Not even in front of my family or friends. If you have something to say, I suggest you bite your tongue and stop there. Don’t open your mouth for anything…well, maybe for a few things. Just leave the thinking to the man. You have other things to worry about.

8. Talking.

Never do it. Never talk unless spoken to. Your day spent at home will never be exciting enough to talk about. Don’t talk when I am watching television or a movie. I want silence. You’re welcome to talk when I ask you a question. When the question is asked, I want no more than three word answers. Any more than that and I will tune you out. I don’t want to admit it but you will probably give me a headache when you do. Never ask me if we can ‘just talk’. Cause there is never just talking. It’s you complaining about mundane things. Remember, I am man. Your complaints don’t matter to me. Your opinions don’t matter either. I like silence. I want to eat in peace. I want to watch my programs in silence. I want the car ride to be just the music and not you drowning it out. How a woman can talk so much when she has so much to do is mind boggling. When you talk to me, it makes me wish I didn’t make the no pet rule. I would borrow Fluffy’s muzzle and strap it right over your face. Save me the pain, and just be quiet.


So You Wanna Be My Wife? Part I

I have stated many times before that I don’t plan on getting married. It is so much easier being alone than it is to be married. Now you are probably asking yourself, how the hell would I know what it is like to be married? Frankly, I don’t. I have no idea what being married entails. I only go off of what movies and television tells me about marriage. But let’s say I do get married. Let’s pretend that swines decided to fly one day. Go a step further and say Hell freezes over. If something like that happens, then yes, I will get married. If I do get married, I have a few guidelines that my wife needs to follow. If not my wife, then the woman who plans to be my wife needs to follow. They are simple rules and I want to make it perfectly clear that I am serious. If you cannot meet the standards I list, then don’t ask to buy me a drink or flirt my me while you drink your fruity alcoholic beverage.


1. You have to cook.

Easy. I don’t plan on being at the same job I am at till the day I die but if the cards that are dealt in front of me never change, then I will probably be at the same place till I lay peacefully in a wooden box, six feet under your dancing feet. Being that I work in an establishment where I cook all day, I have no desire to turn on another oven when I arrive home. Don’t even ask about the microwave or grabbing some take out. I just wanna get home and nurse a beer. You need to grab that apron I bought you for our first anniversary and walk your tiny ace into the kitchen and prepare me a meal. I don’t mean a can of soup or a bag of ramen noodles. I want real food. I am a man. I want steak. I want potatoes. When I say potatoes, you best know what I am talking about. Hell, we’re married. You should know what kind of potatoes I like. If you can’t and don’t get that right, I will gladly buy you the bus ticket so you can go back to living with you mother and you two succubus’ can talk about how horrible of a man I really am. I am sorry, sweetie. Suck it up. Cause we all know once you get married, there is no more sucking.

You cook and I will be happy. You prepare me a meal fit for a king. I don’t expect you to spoon feed it to me. You’ll have to do that when I am on my death-bed. Remember, to death till we part? That is a good loophole for the lazy guy like me. Cooking is essential for our relationship. You are a woman and if school taught me anything, it’s a gene you’re born with. Women are born to cook. They are born with countless recipes in their head. Not to mention, the tradition of passing down family recipes. How many guys rave about the meatloaf recipes they got from dear old granny? Not many. Learn your place. Know that a kitchen is like the first bedroom in a marriage. If you want, I will supply you with a floor mat. I don’t want your legs to get tired. After cooking, you have dishes to wash. Really? Were you expecting me to do it? that’s a load of garbage. I was always taught that if you made the mess, it’s your responsibility to clean it up. I am sure you heard the same thing.

2. Doing the dishes.

While I am all for movement of woman’s lib, I want to make a strong point to all you people who don’t have a stick and marbles between their legs. All your life, your griped about the man is holding you back. You protest and want to have the same, equal rights as a man does. We gave you the right to vote. We let you have a job. We let you have opinions. You want to do everything we do. When it comes to hard labor, you shimmy away and watch what little soaps are left on network television. Now it’s your turn to suck it. It’s your time to suck it up and be a man. For me, a woman has two places in this world. You should either be in the kitchen or waist-high to a man. The main reason you should be doing the dishes and countless other household chores is cause it’s in your blood. Women are meant to breed, cook, clean, and treat the man like he should be – like a king. Oh, I forgot pleasing a man.

It’s crazy to think about a man actually washing a dish. Maybe if he’s from Mexico and this is his life long dream. Maybe all the gardening jobs were taken. He needs to make a living. But in time, he’ll learn the American dream. He’ll wait patiently for his wife to jump the border and make her way to him. Then, while she’s busy washing the dishes (like a good wife should), he’ll be in the other room, drinking his cheap beer and watching Telemundo’s broadcast of Lucha Libre.

3. What you consider trash, I call them keepsakes.

When people get married, they don’t focus on the real important issue. A woman feels it is her responsibility to clear away of all things childish. All items the man owns, we’ll be locked in the garage or tossed out with the trash. She’ll claim she is trying to make the place more homey. But in reality, she is killing you. Your things are just toys, random things that are taking up space. A house to woman can never have too many throw pillows. Candles are essential. Picture frames will be around you. Every direction you turn, you’ll see one. From the moment you’re married, the past life you once led is gone. You are not the man she married. You are now a piece of furniture.

If I am to ever fall into the trap of marriage, my wife will know her place. She’ll know that whatever I bring along with me will be there till I die or decide to call it quits. Chances are, she’ll call it quits first. Be better that way. Just proves I win and we all know men win everything. I will keep my collection of shot glasses. I won’t put them in storage or put them in the basement, far from virgin eyes to see. Look, lady. We got married. You knew I was a drunk well before we said our vows. I was under the impression that’s why we got married. If I can hold my liquor, I should obviously be able to handle you. I don’t want you to think that I save everything in the world. I am not a hoarder. My ‘trash’ has value to me. Your things are just trash. A house doesn’t need a woman’s touch in style. The only woman’s touch it needs is clearing the dust off the couch, mopping the floor, and pushing around a vacuum. My keepsakes will be shown off with pride. I don’t want to have to dig around in boxes to find things. Boxes are meant for more meaningless things, like our wedding album and old love letters.

4. My wallet is not a cookie jar.

I am old fashion. You’re a woman. Your job is to stay at home and clean it. You don’t need a job. If you really want one, I suggest a job made for a woman. Do something like being a librarian. While I work and make the money, I have every right to control the money. If you need food, then come find me. Ask me for the money. We will not share a bank account, nor will I give you access to my account. My pin number is like every dirty secret I have. A secret. You will never pry it from me. I’ll give you an allowance and money for groceries.  Don’t ask for any more. I work, I bring home the bacon. My money is not for you to squander away with superficial things (haircut, make up, perfume medicine , etc…). If you want those things, get a job. Hell, run a lemonade stand for all I care. Just don’t turn tricks on the street. That’s degrading.