Thats a Damn Lie and You Know It
This morning I had a fight with Victor about towels. I tin't tell you the details considering it wasn't interesting enough to document at the time, but it was basically me telling Victor I needed to buy new bath towels, and Victor insisting that I Non buy towels considering I "just bought new towels". And so I pointed out that the final towels I'd bought were hot pink beach towels, and he was all "EXACTLY" and and so I hit my head against the wall for an hr.
Then Laura came to pick me up so we could go to the discount outlet together, and as Victor gave me a kiss goodbye he lovingly whispered, "You are not immune to bring any more goddam towels in this house or I will strangle you lot". And that was exactly what I was even so echoing through my head an hr later on, when Laura and I stopped our shopping carts and stared up in confused, silent awe at a display of enormous metal chickens, made from rusted oil drums.
Laura: I think you need one of those.
me: You're joking, but they're kind of horrifically crawly.
Laura: I'chiliad not joking. Nosotros demand to buy you one.
me: The five-foot tall one was $300, marked down to $100. That's similar, $200 worth of cravenfor free.
Laura: You'd be crazy non to purchase that. I hateful, look at information technology. Information technology'S Total OF WHIMSY.
me: Victor'd be pissed.
Laura: Yup.
me: Merely on the plus side? Information technology'south non towels.
Laura: Yup.
me: We will proper noun him Henry. Or Charlie. Or O'Shannesy.
Laura: Or Beyoncé.
me:Or Beyoncé. Yes. And when our friends are sad we can leave him at their front door to cheer them up.
Laura:Exactly. It'll exist similar, "You thought *yesterday* was bad? Well, at present you accept a enormous metal chicken to bargain with. Perspective.Now you have it."
Then we flagged downwardly a salesman, and we were all "What can you tell the states about these chickens?", as if we were in an fine art gallery, and not in a store that specializes in terminal years' bathmats. He didn't know annihilation about them, but he said that they'd only only sold one and it was to a really drunk lady, then Laura and I were all "SOLD. All this craven belongs to us now."
So he loaded it onto a trolley, but Beyoncé was surprisingly unstable, and the giant 5 foot metal chicken crashed over onto the floor. And Laura and I were all "Chicken DOWN! CLEAN-Upwardly IN AISLE 3" merely he didn't laugh. So the manager came to meet what was causing all the mayhem, and that's when he found the very-conservative salesman unhappily struggling to right an enthusiastically pointy chicken which was well-nigh as tall as he was. The salesman was having a difficult time, and he told everyone to stand up dorsum "because this chicken will cut y'all", and at commencement I thought he meant it as a threat, like "That chicken has a shiv", but turns out he but meant that all the chickens' ends were sharp and rusty. It was awesome, and Laura and I agreed that even if nosotros got tetanus, this chicken had already paid for himself even before we got it in her truck.
Then we got to my house and quietly snuck the chicken up to my forepart door, rang the doorbell, and hid around the corner.
Victor opened the door and looked at the chicken in stunned silence for about 3 seconds. And then he sighed, closed the door and walked away.
Laura: What the fuck?That'south it? That'south the simply reaction we go?
me:That's it. He's a hard man to rattle.
Victor was surprisingly pissed that I'd "wasted money" on an enormous chicken, considering plain he couldn't appreciate the hysterical value of a 5 foot craven ringing the doorbell. So I said, "Well, at to the lowest degree it's not towels" and apparently that was the incorrect thing to say because that's when Victor screamed and stormed off, but I knew he was locked in his function because I could hear him punching things in there. Then I yelled through his door, "It's an anniversary gift for you, asshole. Ii whole weeks early. 15 YEARS IS BIG Metal CHICKENS."
Then he yelled that he wanted it gone, but I couldn't movement it myself, and so instead I said okay and went to watch boob tube. Then when the UPS guy came I hid, but he was all "Dude. Nice chicken" and Victor yelled, "IT IS Non A Squeamish Craven". Which was probably very confusing to the UPS guy, who was just trying to exist polite, Victor. Victor seemed more than disgruntled than usual, and so I finally dragged the chicken into the lawn and wedged it into a clump of trees so that information technology could scare the snakes abroad. And then I came in and Victor angrily pulled me into his office so that I could run across that I'd stationed Beyoncé directly in forepart of his only window. And I was all "Exactly. YOU'RE WELCOME." I told him that he could move Beyoncé if he wanted to, but he totally hasn't. Probably considering of all of the giant rocks I piled on Beyonce'southward anxiety to dissuade burglars. Or maybe because Beyoncé is growing on him. Still, I can't help but remember that we wouldn't even be having this statement if Beyoncé was towels. Honestly, this whole chicken is really a lesson in picking your battles more carefully. Plus, he'due south awesome and I tin can't stop giggling every time I look at him. Beyoncé, that is.
All-time. 15th anniversary. ever.
UPDATED 2012: It's been half a twelvemonth and people nevertheless continue to laugh, scream indignantly and to ask questions, so here are a few follow-ups. Victor and I are still (of course) happily married and afterwards a few weeks he got over his giant rooster aversion. Beyonce stares at him from outside his function window. I eventually got new towels. "Knock-knock, motherfucker" is embroidered on all of them. Victor was not impressed. Beyonce-the-giant-metal-chicken now has her ain Facebook page with over xxx,000 highly imaginative fans, and you lot can buy your own travel-sized Beyonce right here for nether $20. You're welcome globe. Now please stop yelling at me.
Source: https://thebloggess.com/2011/06/21/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/
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