Okay, first of all, men drink beer. This is an established fact that dates back to the dawn of recorded nagging...I mean history.
Most women, I mean "most" not all, do not drink as much beer as the male counterpart in a relationship. So, some of you out there might have, at one time or another, had the desire to have a brew when the little lady wouldn't likely have approved. This would include a weeknight, or too late on a weekend, or too early in the day, or at a party after you've already started sluring your words and caused people to start looking at you like you're a hobo, or just anytime when they want to do "something" and you just want to do "nothing".
So here's a thread to share stories of funny incidents (or incidents that were horrible for you, but might be funny to us).
I'll start.
It was a weeknight, long day at work. All I wanted to do was veg out with a beer. But "we don't drink during the week" so after arriving home, going out for a run, spending a little time with the misses, and doing the obligatory "home stuff", it was time. I snuk out to the garage where I had a mini fridge, grabbed two cans of beer, stuffed them into my jogging shorts, and headed inside. The wife accosted me in the kitchen before I could make my way upstairs to the dark joy of a quiet bed and small bedroom sized tv, to lay there and relax and channel surf. As she stood chatting with me, I could feel slippage. I agonizingly chatted back at her about God knows what. The slippage continued, I could feel beads of sweat forming in my pits. I shifted slightly, with her completely unaware of my predicament. Before I could stealthily and satisfactorily arrange things, a beer dropped out of my shorts and onto the floor at her feet. She looked down at it and back up at me with the kind of look you'd expect at something like that. Then of course the second beer followed it's brother, and they both lay there at her feet. Traitors. We'll close a merciful curtain on the scene that followed.
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My laughter (resulting from this most excellent story) cut through the tomb-like quiet of my cubicle row with all the subtleness of a cackling crow in a cornfield. All I can say is brother I feel your pain. I cannot say that I have had such a comical confrontation in regards to my beer hiding. I have done stupid things like hide a huge-ass 40-ounce bottle behind the sofa but leave the freaking bottle cap sitting on the coffee table. I have even gotten overly confident in my bottle hiding abilities and let my "empties" stash pile up in closets and behind sofa's, only to be found with a scream on a otherwise perfectly good Saturday morning. I can't compete with this incredibly funny beer-hiding story but I can add a horrific version of my own. When I was 27 years old, I was living with my girlfriend at the time, let's call her J. Well, J had spent the day at our apartment watching Rosanne and Opra. Opra's topic of the day was, "alcoholic boyfriends that beat their partners". The day was a Friday and I was glad to be coming home after a hell week in the Georgia sun digging holes in some rich fuck's garden. I stopped off on the way home and picked up J and I some steaks, and bought some tall, cheap, cold beer for myself to ease me into the weekend. I immediately knew that something was wrong when I walked in the door, to see J's sour screwed up face greeted me. The following welcome home message was soon thrust from her lips: "You are not going to get all liquored up and beat me!" I had no idea what she was talking about. I had never touched her. She reiterated, "You are not drinking that beer tonight!" Now that was the wrong thing to say to a guy that had spent all week with the sun trying to melt a hole in the top of his head. "I am going to drink this beer J, I don't know what put this idea in your head, but I wish you would get over it. I then grabbed a tall boy popped the top and was invigorated by it's healing powers. I put the rest of the beer in the fridge and turned my back toward the fridge as I started cooking the steaks and potatoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur rush past me, and then heard the boom and click of J locking herself in her room. Thinking something weird was up I went to her bedroom and insisted that she open the door. Needless to say, she was against opening the door and decided to cuss at me to make the situation even better. My tired sun-beat ass had had enough and I put my shoulder to the door. The door flung open with the cracking sound of the wood frame and their she was with my six-pack. All the beer tops had been popped and she was pouring them down the drain. I rushed to save my six friends but they were all near death by the time I arrived. I could not believe my eyes. I bit my lip and went back in the kitchen to check on my steak and have another sip of the one beer that survived the massacre. No sooner had I turned my back again, than she had took my steak off of the grill and gave it to my dog Sneakers. He looked ridiculous with that huge Fred Flintstone sized piece of meat in his mouth. It looked like he was chomping on it and smiling at the same time. "You bitch!", I yelled. "How could you ? You ruined my dinner, I was starving!" Then I found out what had got her so wound up, "You ain't gonna beat me like those assholes on Opra!" I just looked at her in disbelief. Somehow Opra had filled her head with the idea that all people that drink, beat their wives. I felt so violated by the whole situation. Certainly if there was a proper time to beat someone, then now was the time. The only thing I could do is walk away. Out of sheer determination, I went back to the store and replenished my beer supply. I then sat by the apartment pool to enjoy the last of a really weird evening. Then something happened that defied all logic...J showed up. She marched by me, making a quick swipe at my six pack, which she then threw in the pool. I figured God must have been playing a joke on me at this point, and just sat their in disbelief. "Jump in the pool and get your beer Rummy!, J screamed. Isn't love beautiful ?
Holy Mother Scratching Cow!! That story beats all! Okay, we've got to hear the end of this. Did you leave her? If I hadn't been with her long I would have packed and left. That is just too weird. Too awful. Tell me she eventually apologized. And also tell me she's not one of the women in your past you soliloquize so fondly about. If so, then it goes to prove even the best of them have issues.
no I knew J>>>THIS IS A TRUE STORY SHE WAS UNHINGED AT TIMES. She also had a habit of hitting peoples cars and driving off, overreacting to every thing in the known universe and obsesively counting how many of one thing in every room she went into.In gs3's defense she could be funny at times...and had a nice rack.............
Well a nice rack will do it every time. Although I'm an ass man myself. I know, because people are always saying "you're an ass, man".
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