2005-02-11 - 1:05 p.m.
Last night, my lovely wife offers to make me a snack. Since I am drinking a southern Australian chardonnay, I obviously ask for peanut butter crackers.
From the kitchen I hear the can opener going. - The can opener.- Huh? Since when do you need a can opener for peanut butter?
Since my wife starting shopping at the freaky deeky dollar store across town, that’s when.
I’m not sure, but I think the place is run by the Russian Mafia. Honestly, tell me what kind of store sells “Farmer Boris Brand Peanut Butter Spread”? (Just look for the tin can with the peeling red paint.)
My wife has come home with Soviet Welfare Peanut Butter.
Let me make this clear: I am not entirely comfortable eating peanut butter that was made in a country that no longer exists. Even more so if you need a can opener to get into it.
My wife tries to convince me that at one time, the Soviet Block was renowned for its peanut butter - Plus it’s a $2.00 cheaper than those so-called “name brands”. She holds up the can and poses as if she’s in some bizarro world commercial.
I stand there looking at her in complete and utter bewilderment.
“Um, do we have a money problem?” I ask.
You see, I’m a “hand’s off” kinda guy when it comes to the household finances. We could be one step away from poverty, or winners of the Publisher’s Clearing House and I wouldn’t have a clue either way. But when she starts serving up communist block surplus rations, I get the impression that something may be amiss.
She assures me that we’re fine and she just loves to hunt for bargains. True, my wife lives to shop. Still, I make her get the bank statements out to prove it.
After examining all the books and drinking several glasses of wine, my fears are put to rest.
Fine, I get it. She’s was just trying to save money, but can we please get rid of the commie food? From now on, can we please buy our foodstuffs at places that have at least been inspected by the Board of Health? And since we are doing so well, can I please get the Hummer we’ve always talked about? The red one?
I concluded from her peels of sarcastic laughter that although there is some hope that my peanut butter is about to be upgraded to a major western brand , I’m was also left with the distinct impression that I shouldn’t be making room in the garage for a new SUV just yet.
Damn.
I really can’t complain though, my lovely wife does a great job managing the house and money. If paying the bills and organizing our financial structure were left up to me, I have absolutely no doubt that we’d be living in a refrigerator box and our total net worth would consist of several cases of Jack Danials, a box of slightly used porn, and perhaps some beef jerky.
At least it would be an American brand of jerky
I think my wife and I have a good financial arrangement too. It’s simple and straight forward: I throw my entire paycheck at her and she gives me imported beer and the occasional happy ending.
This is much better than my bachelor days when I was completely in charge of my paycheck. Oh sure, there was more beer, but the hookers always stole the change off the dresser, and sometimes small appliances too. Many times I never got a happy ending either.
So although I’m not driving around in a $75000 attention whoring truck, I’m liking this new system much better. For starters, I don’t worry that my toaster oven will be missing in the morning.
After all, how would I toast my “Comrade Ivan Home-style Country Bread”?
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