“There was a concert in Prospect Park. The band Cake was headlining. It began to rain, a big, nasty downpour. We were getting ready to leave….”
Category: Humor (Page 4 of 4)
Registering for our wedding at Fortunoff yesterday, Amy stopped excitedly by the handsome, burly KitchenAid mixers on display in the front of the appliances department.
“Ooooh—David, I want a mixer!”
Me: “We have a Manhattan-apartment kitchen and we hardly ever cook. What will you do with it?”
Amy pauses, a perfect beat that would make Bob Newhart proud.
“Mix!”
“Oh?” I ask. “And what will you be mixing?”
Another beat.
“Ingredients!”
Once engaged, one’s home life quickly adopts a new set of rules and regulations. The switch is enjoyable, but some of the changes do come as a surprise.
Once engaged, one’s home life quickly adopts a new set of rules and regulations. The switch is enjoyable, but some of the changes do come as a surprise.
~ The prospect of cohabitation, once a distant hope and promise, becomes not an inevitability but a matter of immediacy. Prepare to relinquish rights to the old home within 18 minutes of proposing, and do not expect to be “at home” (meaning the bachelor pad) for more than an hour ever again.
~ When spending time at the new home, the old tenant (now your soon-to-be-betrothed) will expect the phone to be answered, even though all the calls are still for resident No. 1. The answering machine messages do begin to include both people, which is more fun than it sounds.
~ Suddenly it has become acceptable for the fiancee to pee with the door open.
~ That list of moderately awkward pharmacy items that once was purchased on a quiet, lonely night when no one is looking? The secret’s out. And, for that matter, someone else’s secrets are now in.
~ Sharing and not sharing ceases to exist. Everything is “ours.” Which is great when one needs batteries, and less so when the ballgame loses the remote-control faceoff to “The E! True Hollywood Story.”
~ Jerry Seinfeld’s good-naked, bad-naked routine is a lie.
Reassuringly, the moldy-items-in-the-back-of-the-fridge cliche is a cliche for a reason.
“My dear,” said the honeydew to his lover, “you are a peach. Will you marry me?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied, “but we cantaloupe.”
Hey, Amy: 8-ball.
At the dinner reception for the Orthodox Jewish wedding, Amy leaned over as we were being served the main course.
“I dare you to ask for the kosher meal.”