<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926</id><updated>2011-12-31T07:17:46.019-08:00</updated><category term='forget'/><category term='urine'/><category term='beer'/><category term='goatee'/><category term='duct tape'/><category term='funny'/><category term='hotel'/><category term='books'/><category term='commercial'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='shower'/><category term='gift'/><category term='atm'/><category term='marriage'/><category term='woman'/><category term='colorado'/><category term='lion'/><category term='submission'/><category term='bottle'/><category term='library'/><category term='lazy'/><category term='submit'/><category term='sandwich'/><category term='water'/><category term='bank'/><category term='suit'/><category term='scent'/><category term='clothing'/><category term='gout'/><category term='driving. parking'/><category term='father&apos;s day'/><category term='stove'/><category term='bed'/><category term='work'/><category term='hair dye'/><category term='gross'/><category term='adoption'/><category term='humor'/><category term='snot'/><category term='man'/><category term='story'/><category term='underwear'/><category term='trophy'/><category term='pants'/><category term='women'/><category term='tricks'/><category term='clever'/><category term='concussion'/><category term='shop vac'/><category term='records'/><category term='divorce'/><category term='engine'/><category term='card'/><category term='laugh'/><category term='toenails'/><category term='fall'/><category term='coat'/><category term='dog'/><category term='pee'/><category term='asthma'/><category term='camp'/><category term='fork'/><category term='toilet'/><category term='cart'/><category term='sheets'/><category term='ice'/><category term='fridge'/><category term='fire'/><category term='food'/><category term='husband'/><category term='fishing'/><category term='joke'/><category term='burn'/><category term='chicken'/><category term='cat'/><category term='hilarious'/><category term='closet'/><category term='leaves'/><category term='stupid'/><title type='text'>Stupid Stuff My Husband Does</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-3220050814538982347</id><published>2011-12-31T07:09:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T07:10:47.351-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>Lost in Translation</title><content type='html'>From Listening Lynn...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like many husbands, mine pretty much never listens. I have resigned myself to that fact, but the thing that annoys me the most is that if I ask him a question he’ll automatically answer “yes” or “uh-huh” without even hearing the question!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I asked him if he had had coffee with his friend that morning. He says “yeah.” Although I am standing right there, not shouting from across the room, I can see he’s not listening so I sort of smarted back, “Oh, that’s nice. How’s he doing?” Hubby says, “How’s who doing?” I said, “Your friend, James…how is he doing today?” Hubby says, “I don’t know…I haven’t seen him.” I said, “You just said you had coffee with him this morning.” Hubby: “No I didn’t.” “Yes, you did. That’s what I just asked you. Why did you say yes when the answer was no?” His answer was one of the best: “I don’t know what you said…I don’t hear half of what you say.” Nice, huh? Of course, if I decide just not to talk to him for a while he wonders why I’m so quiet! K&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-3220050814538982347?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/3220050814538982347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2011/12/lost-in-translation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3220050814538982347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3220050814538982347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2011/12/lost-in-translation.html' title='Lost in Translation'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2742641524175233381</id><published>2010-02-05T19:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T19:40:21.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Go Get Shredded!</title><content type='html'>So, this story needs a little background. I have a certain recycling bin for magazines and paper in the multipurpose room. I also have a place for new magazines that I haven't read or that I'm saving which is on the shelf under the end table in the living room. I thought this was obvious and I'm sure I've told the hubby this routine a time or to. (upon deaf ears it seems...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I come home after working and the kids have ripped up and cut apart paper everywhere. I asked hubby where they got the magazines from and he points out the table full of unread or saved magazines. I ask him which magazines and he mentions one was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sunset&lt;/span&gt; magazine "from the bottom of the pile." My heart sunk. The only &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sunset&lt;/span&gt; magazine I had was one that included my brother's artwork as a feature. I found the scrap with his art piece on it amongst the piles. Why out of 10 magazines sitting on top of this one, did he have to give the kids THE ONE that I wanted to keep? Ugh. Beyond frustrated now. I reminded him of the recycling pile and he acted shocked like he had no clue it existed or had existed for the past 2 years. yikes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2742641524175233381?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2742641524175233381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-go-get-shredded.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2742641524175233381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2742641524175233381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2010/02/oh-go-get-shredded.html' title='Oh Go Get Shredded!'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-5023877983478250984</id><published>2009-09-07T08:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T08:31:57.440-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toenails'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Nailed in Nantucket</title><content type='html'>This story comes from a friend of a friend and her recent experience with her hubby's fine hygiene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, I spent hours cleaning the wood floors to a shine, finally got rid of every speck of dust and all the dust bunnies that kept reproducing. My husband came home after work and of course didn't notice, but that didn't bother me. In the middle of the night I woke up thirsty so I went downstairs to get a glass of water. As I was walking across my newly sparkling wood floors in the dark, I kept stepping on little poky stuff all across the floor. I assumed the dog had chewed apart one of her many toys. Aggravated, I stepped across the crunchy floor to flip on the light. Spread around was an array of little white pieces. As I bent down for a closer look, I realized they were...*gasp* toenails. Apparently, my husband didn't think to cut his nails over a trash can or even to sweep them off the floor. Needless to say, he was given a good talking to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eww.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-5023877983478250984?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/5023877983478250984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/09/nailed-in-nantucket.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/5023877983478250984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/5023877983478250984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/09/nailed-in-nantucket.html' title='Nailed in Nantucket'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-1656117707310931364</id><published>2009-07-11T08:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T08:48:33.853-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scent'/><title type='text'>Cat Butt Scent</title><content type='html'>Scented in Silicone Valley says...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Way back when the Bloom County cartoon strip was still popular my husband had an encounter with a certain cat.  We were at a local drug store and there was a display of stuffed animals, including Bill the Cat from Bloom County. Apparently there was a tag on the plush which said "All new smell."  Without thinking about it, my husband held it to his face.  I had been shopping elsewhere in the store and I turned the corner to see my sweet hubby sniffing Bill the Cat's butt!  I laughed so hard I almost pee'd myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sli0LiQs_-I/AAAAAAAAAt0/yxmJUXpqsFk/s1600-h/bill+the+cat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sli0LiQs_-I/AAAAAAAAAt0/yxmJUXpqsFk/s320/bill+the+cat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357229867025629154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least it wasn't a real cat...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-1656117707310931364?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/1656117707310931364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/07/cat-butt-scent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/1656117707310931364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/1656117707310931364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/07/cat-butt-scent.html' title='Cat Butt Scent'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sli0LiQs_-I/AAAAAAAAAt0/yxmJUXpqsFk/s72-c/bill+the+cat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2345385140484541201</id><published>2009-07-09T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T20:07:40.725-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>King of Vapid Rapids</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This entry is courtesy of Dammed in Des Moines:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I went out for a rafting trip down a slow river for a lazy day. During our little excursion, my husband decided to be funny. He got to the front of the raft, stood and began shouting, "I'm the king of the world!!!" I turned my back to him, searching for the camera to commemorate his kingship when I heard a loud *splash*! My husband was now the king of the water. The funny thing was were were going past a few fisherman who were on the shore and he got exuberant applause from his shore side audience. He was soon back in the raft and said, "I guess I won't do that again." I'm just sad I didn't get a picture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2345385140484541201?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2345385140484541201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/07/king-of-vapid-rapids.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2345385140484541201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2345385140484541201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/07/king-of-vapid-rapids.html' title='King of Vapid Rapids'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-4832983709458977637</id><published>2009-06-19T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T07:47:25.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Power is Too Strong</title><content type='html'>So I asked my husband to get the power washer out so that I could take the stain off our deck to re-stain it. He gave me a long run down about how I need to keep it away from the kids and make sure they're not in the line of fire (duh). He tells me it can take their skin off it's so strong. I agreed to be careful. Now he's out there, with my potted plants in full blast receival (I know, it's not a word), spraying away. Between the kids, the dog and my husband, my plants just don't stand a chance. sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-4832983709458977637?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/4832983709458977637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/power-is-too-strong.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/4832983709458977637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/4832983709458977637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/power-is-too-strong.html' title='The Power is Too Strong'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-8001793376354822979</id><published>2009-06-18T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T20:08:35.560-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='man'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hilarious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commercial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='card'/><title type='text'>Having a Hot Car Doesn't Make You Hot</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="464" height="388"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://embed.break.com/MjEwNTIy"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://embed.break.com/MjEwNTIy" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowScriptAccess=always width="464" height="388"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font size=1&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.break.com/usercontent/2007/1/Stupid-Man-210522.html"&gt;Stupid Man! &lt;/a&gt; - Watch more &lt;a href="http://www.break.com"&gt;Funny Videos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-8001793376354822979?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8001793376354822979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/having-hot-car-doesnt-make-you-hot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8001793376354822979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8001793376354822979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/having-hot-car-doesnt-make-you-hot.html' title='Having a Hot Car Doesn&apos;t Make You Hot'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-4581210406151640641</id><published>2009-06-15T18:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T18:49:07.275-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gift'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fork'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='father&apos;s day'/><title type='text'>What he REALLY wants for Father's Day</title><content type='html'>Find it for $25.00 at &lt;a href="http://ninaandtom.etsy.com"&gt;ninaandtom.etsy.com&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sjb5yV9qemI/AAAAAAAAAts/sQQQ2AKwrxA/s1600-h/il_430xN.75353489.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sjb5yV9qemI/AAAAAAAAAts/sQQQ2AKwrxA/s320/il_430xN.75353489.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347736250833599074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-4581210406151640641?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/4581210406151640641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-he-really-wants-for-fathers-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/4581210406151640641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/4581210406151640641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-he-really-wants-for-fathers-day.html' title='What he REALLY wants for Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sjb5yV9qemI/AAAAAAAAAts/sQQQ2AKwrxA/s72-c/il_430xN.75353489.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2635503647438861701</id><published>2009-06-10T18:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T18:55:12.018-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='duct tape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Ingenious or . . . Otherwise?</title><content type='html'>So I woke up this morning to a puzzling site...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SjBhMqNi4UI/AAAAAAAAAtU/lGiZ5RkpBew/s1600-h/dogfood.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SjBhMqNi4UI/AAAAAAAAAtU/lGiZ5RkpBew/s320/dogfood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345879627806204226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm. . . "What is he doing?" I think. The answer is clear, though. Our dog spreads her food everywhere after digging through the food rubble for her favorite pieces. Apparently, my husband thinks this will solve her messy eating habits somehow. I wasn't sure how he thought it might help, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, hold your breath for the result... it's shocking, I mean I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; thought this would happen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SjBjFEb98aI/AAAAAAAAAtk/Su_KXJiH-vw/s1600-h/dogfoodresult.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SjBjFEb98aI/AAAAAAAAAtk/Su_KXJiH-vw/s320/dogfoodresult.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345881696430322082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, yes I did think this would happen, but at least I let his little test prove itself. :) I just hope my husband isn't developing that duct tape disease that seems to afflict men in their later years. I mean, he's only in his 30's, but maybe it's like early menopause. Early Duct Tape Compulsion (EDTC).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2635503647438861701?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2635503647438861701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/ingenious-or-otherwise.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2635503647438861701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2635503647438861701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/ingenious-or-otherwise.html' title='Ingenious or . . . Otherwise?'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SjBhMqNi4UI/AAAAAAAAAtU/lGiZ5RkpBew/s72-c/dogfood.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-9071462015531398309</id><published>2009-06-02T14:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T14:55:14.318-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hilarious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Husband of the Year Awards</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;These are too perfect. No need for explanations:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfbAdV2XI/AAAAAAAAAtM/8T5dAfIJgZo/s1600-h/D83A38625AC44675B6C2C18DA7202EC1"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfbAdV2XI/AAAAAAAAAtM/8T5dAfIJgZo/s320/D83A38625AC44675B6C2C18DA7202EC1" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342851819273312626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfS5GBdvI/AAAAAAAAAtE/YDqley0h4-w/s1600-h/CEA0E5BE05984F9B8E89C1A0E6CE8B80"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfS5GBdvI/AAAAAAAAAtE/YDqley0h4-w/s320/CEA0E5BE05984F9B8E89C1A0E6CE8B80" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342851679857506034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfSVpOAJI/AAAAAAAAAs8/tI0az8liFsU/s1600-h/486729C5DDBC4F49A721559F3DA632B4"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfSVpOAJI/AAAAAAAAAs8/tI0az8liFsU/s320/486729C5DDBC4F49A721559F3DA632B4" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342851670341451922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfSdTL4bI/AAAAAAAAAs0/S1UiPf2ZsJk/s1600-h/75F31D2F6C7B4E7D93BD00CD991479EF"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfSdTL4bI/AAAAAAAAAs0/S1UiPf2ZsJk/s320/75F31D2F6C7B4E7D93BD00CD991479EF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342851672396521906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfSFJvZpI/AAAAAAAAAss/sIlcDvbzeuk/s1600-h/55BE896A1C7C44CF86EE8536BC712398"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfSFJvZpI/AAAAAAAAAss/sIlcDvbzeuk/s320/55BE896A1C7C44CF86EE8536BC712398" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342851665914455698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfR1mySzI/AAAAAAAAAsk/vQ6Up80FDJc/s1600-h/06BA72A47EEC44778721D27A21604E0A"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfR1mySzI/AAAAAAAAAsk/vQ6Up80FDJc/s320/06BA72A47EEC44778721D27A21604E0A" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342851661741312818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-9071462015531398309?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/9071462015531398309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/husband-of-year-awards.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/9071462015531398309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/9071462015531398309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/06/husband-of-year-awards.html' title='Husband of the Year Awards'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SiWfbAdV2XI/AAAAAAAAAtM/8T5dAfIJgZo/s72-c/D83A38625AC44675B6C2C18DA7202EC1' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2256932991111045111</id><published>2009-05-16T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T16:37:09.419-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fridge'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>beer fridge</title><content type='html'>This is sad. Even more sad, my husband would love it. But then again, so would I if it would make and transport margaritas...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fxfgxreJ75U&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fxfgxreJ75U&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2256932991111045111?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2256932991111045111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/beer-fridge.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2256932991111045111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2256932991111045111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/beer-fridge.html' title='beer fridge'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-3023684868089994108</id><published>2009-05-11T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T11:26:02.870-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Stupid Man Overshadowed by Louder Stupid Man</title><content type='html'>As reported by The Onion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BETHESDA, MD—A long, idiotic rant delivered by a demonstrably stupid man was interrupted Monday by the ramblings of a man who, in addition to being stupid, spoke in a very loud voice. "The first man was certainly stupid, but he was more relentless than loud," said a quiet and somewhat reasonable man who witnessed the dispute. "So when the other man began saying something even stupider at a much higher volume, naturally I had to pay attention to him." As of press time, both men had quieted down somewhat, but remained stupid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-3023684868089994108?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/3023684868089994108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/stupid-man-overshadowed-by-louder.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3023684868089994108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3023684868089994108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/stupid-man-overshadowed-by-louder.html' title='Stupid Man Overshadowed by Louder Stupid Man'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-164691607172492559</id><published>2009-05-03T16:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T16:49:42.151-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bottle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='urine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gross'/><title type='text'>What a Pisser!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sf4tdESZpAI/AAAAAAAAAsU/yqMwpoL3moE/s1600-h/Sparkling-bottled-water.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sf4tdESZpAI/AAAAAAAAAsU/yqMwpoL3moE/s320/Sparkling-bottled-water.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331748986243621890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So, I'm currently in the Vegas airport, waiting for my plane to take me back to Colorado. I received a great surprise in my e-mail from Bottled in Buffalo. I just couldn't wait until I got home to share (I just threw up in my mouth a little bit):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My husband has a man cave where he plays computer games and indulges his inner geek. The room is kind of gross so I don't go in there often but the other day I passed through there and noticed a water bottle full of yellow fluid. My husband being the lazy man he is, had peed into an empty water bottle. So last night he says to me - guess what I did? Forgetting that he had peed into that bottle - HE DRANK SOME OF IT! It took three swallows for him to realize it wasn't water!!!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please feel free to laugh at my husband, the moron.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-164691607172492559?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/164691607172492559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-pisser.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/164691607172492559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/164691607172492559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-pisser.html' title='What a Pisser!'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sf4tdESZpAI/AAAAAAAAAsU/yqMwpoL3moE/s72-c/Sparkling-bottled-water.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2261811214708473010</id><published>2009-04-24T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T20:09:15.661-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clever'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lion'/><title type='text'>Lionize it</title><content type='html'>OK, this is a clever man idea - in an ode to the clever ideas our men do come up with. (It's also funny.) He's in Mexico and was tired of thugs breaking into his shop, so he came up with this idea... He got a lion... kind of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SfJ-X6x_P_I/AAAAAAAAAr8/2lVdgHa08Dw/s1600-h/1.4157427765"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SfJ-X6x_P_I/AAAAAAAAAr8/2lVdgHa08Dw/s320/1.4157427765" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328460258513731570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SfJ-YHpsdZI/AAAAAAAAAsE/YrQJUHNUGHs/s1600-h/2.4157427766"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SfJ-YHpsdZI/AAAAAAAAAsE/YrQJUHNUGHs/s320/2.4157427766" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328460261968606610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///Users/kellydevries/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2261811214708473010?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2261811214708473010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/lionize-it.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2261811214708473010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2261811214708473010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/lionize-it.html' title='Lionize it'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SfJ-X6x_P_I/AAAAAAAAAr8/2lVdgHa08Dw/s72-c/1.4157427765' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2199890597598200292</id><published>2009-04-17T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T20:11:14.459-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Exhausted</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px; "&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; "&gt;Converted in Carolina writes:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My check engine light has been on for several days.  My husband tells me it’s nothing to worry about.  I told him that I was taking it in to get checked today after it started smelling funny.  He still protested, saying that it was a fuse and all they were going to do is charge me an hours’ labor and turn the light off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; font-size: 11pt; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, it turns out that my husband can’t be trusted when it comes to cars.  The dealership just called and my catalytic converter had stopped working, which I’ve heard can set your car on fire.  I was right in second-guessing my spouse.  Oh, and did I mention that he’s been in the CAR BUSINESS for over 20 years? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2199890597598200292?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2199890597598200292/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/exhausted.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2199890597598200292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2199890597598200292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/exhausted.html' title='Exhausted'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-6420711685376806768</id><published>2009-04-07T22:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T22:18:17.557-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hotel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='colorado'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>If the shoe fits...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SdwzPGSXUiI/AAAAAAAAAr0/-GAGUjIXfBE/s1600-h/0406091022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SdwzPGSXUiI/AAAAAAAAAr0/-GAGUjIXfBE/s320/0406091022.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322185194123776546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this case, it's "if the name fits..." I took this photo from my cell, so it's not exactly clear. This hotel's sign has been in disrepair for many moons, and I finally had to share it. There's just too many jokes that can be made from it. Now, to be fair, I'm not sure if the lack of enthusiasm to fix the sign is due to a man or a woman, but I can take a guess.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, the next time you're in Grand Junction, Colorado and you're in need of a place to stay, try out the Value Lode. I'm just guessing, but I bet they have hourly rates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-6420711685376806768?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/6420711685376806768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/if-shoe-fits.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/6420711685376806768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/6420711685376806768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/04/if-shoe-fits.html' title='If the shoe fits...'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SdwzPGSXUiI/AAAAAAAAAr0/-GAGUjIXfBE/s72-c/0406091022.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-3876356416473482852</id><published>2009-03-28T14:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T14:37:37.522-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hilarious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='concussion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cart'/><title type='text'>Cart Attack!</title><content type='html'>Concussed in Calgary writes&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently my husband did the mother of all stupid things. He came home with a concussion and a huge auto repair bill. Here's how it happened:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One Sunday, he and a friend went to the store to pick up their usual Sunday fare: beer and chips. After their jaunt in the store, they decided they weren't having enough fun and decided to race shopping carts in the parking lot like all testosterone clad teenagers. Except, they aren't teenagers, at least not in their physical age. My husband was winning the race until his cart his a rock in the lot, sending the cart flipping sideways and my husband went with it. He rammed head-first into a car, resulting in damage to his head and the car. I bet he'll do it again anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how he explained that one in the note to the car's owner? LOL!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-3876356416473482852?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/3876356416473482852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/cart-attack.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3876356416473482852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3876356416473482852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/cart-attack.html' title='Cart Attack!'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-7455450361901031113</id><published>2009-03-27T14:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T14:47:25.733-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='submission'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Open Door Policy</title><content type='html'>From Flushed in Fairview:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My husband is a private person when it comes to the bathroom. Even with me, he’ll close the door when he’s going to the bathroom. The only time he leaves the door open is if there’s no one around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I take annual trips to go visit family and always without my husband. One time, when I was away, he went to use the facilities, he didn’t bother closing the door. As he sat there for a moment, he looked up and realized, he wasn’t at home, he was at work! Fortunately for him and his co-workers, there was no one around at the time as he quickly slammed the door shut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-7455450361901031113?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/7455450361901031113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/open-door-policy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/7455450361901031113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/7455450361901031113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/open-door-policy.html' title='Open Door Policy'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-600565587396266913</id><published>2009-03-22T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T11:31:47.866-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sheets'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Oh Sheet!</title><content type='html'>From Sheetless in Salem...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We took a trip to Hawaii with some friends of ours. Our friend James is the focus of this story. We had all been out drinking and having fun and when we came back to our condo (which one of us owns), the pull out couch had no sheets on it. My friend and I insisted that we put clean sheets on and were searching around in our drunken stupor. James kept insisting that he would just sleep on the mattress. James and my husband just kept fighting us girls saying it was fine to sleep without sheets, thinking that we were trying to accommodate James. Really, though, we were trying to protect the mattress. The whole time they just couldn't understand why we were so adamant about sheets. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, it's much cheaper to change sheets than the mattress. It gets  a little uncomfortable to explain away a stained mattress to your next guests...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you have a story to share, you'll remain anonymous! Submit your story to &lt;a href="mailto:kelly@kellymcdowell.com"&gt;kelly@kellymcdowell.com&lt;/a&gt; today!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-600565587396266913?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/600565587396266913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-sheet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/600565587396266913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/600565587396266913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-sheet.html' title='Oh Sheet!'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2775804848177776607</id><published>2009-03-15T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T11:02:25.069-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hilarious'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stove'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='camp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fire'/><title type='text'>Meet me at the Sizzler!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sb1CnOZ_oqI/AAAAAAAAArE/3rCUUX0-lJQ/s1600-h/msr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sb1CnOZ_oqI/AAAAAAAAArE/3rCUUX0-lJQ/s320/msr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313476377016509090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A story from my husband about one of his friends back in college days. Yes, I'm having to resort to these stories - so you need to send me some of yours! Actually, this one has to be told - it's just too hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This "friend," we'll call him Joe, lived in the dorms and had just gotten an MSR camp stove. See photo for a visual. These stoves are meant to be lit at the bottom area, at which you pump gas into it. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Joe wanted to cook some beans to try out his new camp stove - he was trying to do this in his girlfriend's dorm room on her desk. Well, Joe the genius, was pumping the gas like mad trying to light the stove at the top. By this time, gas was leaking out the bottom, which he didn't notice and fumes were billowing out the top like mad. He ended up lighting the fumes which in turn lit the gas surrounding the stove. So now he's got a pretty good fire on his hands. He then proceeds to try to douse the flames with a towel, which ended up fanning the flames and throwing sparks around the room, with a large spark landing on the bedspread. Luckily, he was able to get the towel idea to work and got all the flames out.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Realizing that the RA's would be responding to the silent alarm his fire had kicked off, he ran down to my husband's dorm room (this was long before we were married) with the camp stove. Joe shows up in my hubby's room shoving the camp stove at him saying, "hide this!" My husband quickly figures out what happens when he sees Joe's shirt with singe marks and covered in burn holes. Not to mention his face which was now void of facial hair - eyelashes singed all the way to his eyes and eyebrows little black curled-up remanants of hair.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;By the time the RA's came to his girlfriend's room, Joe was back in there with her. They asked what happened. Joe, standing there void of facial hair, shirt and girlfriend's bed riddled with singed holes answers, "nothing."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can never get enough of my hubby's stories of this friend. I'm sure I'll have to share more of Joe's adventures soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2775804848177776607?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2775804848177776607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/meet-me-at-sizzler.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2775804848177776607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2775804848177776607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/meet-me-at-sizzler.html' title='Meet me at the Sizzler!'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/Sb1CnOZ_oqI/AAAAAAAAArE/3rCUUX0-lJQ/s72-c/msr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-8354548465599884709</id><published>2009-03-14T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T09:45:57.037-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='closet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lazy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>I'm not lazy, I just cut corners.</title><content type='html'>The title is a direct quote from my husband. Here's an example of one of the ways he likes to "cut corners"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SbvfB5ekzPI/AAAAAAAAAq8/SLNE502JHRU/s1600-h/DSCF0046.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SbvfB5ekzPI/AAAAAAAAAq8/SLNE502JHRU/s320/DSCF0046.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313085409115557106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why take the extra 5 seconds to hang up a coat when you can shove it above the others to hold it there?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-8354548465599884709?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8354548465599884709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-not-lazy-i-just-cut-corners.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8354548465599884709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8354548465599884709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-not-lazy-i-just-cut-corners.html' title='I&apos;m not lazy, I just cut corners.'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SbvfB5ekzPI/AAAAAAAAAq8/SLNE502JHRU/s72-c/DSCF0046.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-1933457423861881807</id><published>2009-03-12T20:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T20:19:52.998-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bank'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laugh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='atm'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='card'/><title type='text'>One Track Mind</title><content type='html'>From Shredded in Seattle, we have the honor of relating to this post...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One day, I loaned my bank card to my husband since his had just expired and he was waiting on a new one to come in the mail. He said that he just needed to get some cash out. "Uh, honey," he says on the phone. "Your card got eaten by the ATM."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"What? How did that happen?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Come to find out, he was at the bank, stuck the card in the ATM then got on a cell phone call. He failed to realize that if you don't take action with the card when it is spit back out to you, that the machine will suck it back in and shred it for safety. Then we were out both cards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Talk about a case of only able to handle one task at a time...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-1933457423861881807?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/1933457423861881807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-track-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/1933457423861881807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/1933457423861881807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-track-mind.html' title='One Track Mind'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-8626123172336626616</id><published>2009-03-11T11:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T11:31:22.392-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ice'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trophy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='laugh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fishing'/><title type='text'>Trophy Wife</title><content type='html'>From Manly-Man's Wife in Minnesota, we have this fishy tale...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So, last weekend my husband went to an ice fishing contest.  Of course, I knew that meant he'd have a few beers, and I'd be annoying when he got home, because he's annoying when he drinks too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So later that night he walks in the door, standing there slightly wobbly staring at everyone.  So, we all (my adult son, his daughter, and my other two grandkids) look at him wondering what could possibly be wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Suddenly, he takes his arm from around his back and slowly and very unsteadily moves his outstretched hand from one end of the room to the other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Clear off the mantel," he yells.  "Papa won a trophy, and it belongs on the mantel."  With that, he moves to stand in front of every one of us, holding his shiny blue trophy in front of each face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, I burst out laughing, more because he was having a hard time standing up, let alone with his arm outstretched with a trophy waving from it.  So I start clapping, the kids start clapping and we add some hoots and hollers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Then he walks over to the mantel, sets his trophy next to my candleholders and looks at me.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Can you see it okay?" wobble, wobble.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Yes, I can see it." I roll my eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Elyzabeth, how about you.  Can you see it?  I want everyone to be able to see it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Yes, papa, I can see it too." Eye rolling from the 8 year old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, the little ones (ages 4 &amp;amp; 5) start jumping around hooting and hollering about the trophy and they want to play with it, of course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So, for the rest of the night we get to hear, numerous times, the story of how a little 10 inch crappie won Papa first place in an ice fishing contest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Were we glad when he finally fell asleep!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, after everyone left the next day my husband comes in and says, "Did Elyzabeth take another look at the trophy before she left?  I don't want her to forget about it."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, I'd thought for sure he'd forgotten all about the night before with all the beer he had had.  So I said, "Well, what we can do is take a picture of it.  And you can write on it, "Elyzabeth, I just wanted to send this picture of my trophy so you and your brother don't forget what it looks like."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, we haven't had a chance to do that this last week.  But I think we'll have an envelope in the mail on Monday, because sometimes, my hubby can be very, very funny!  Even if he's annoying while he's doing it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have a funny husband moment story to share, please submit it to &lt;a href="mailto:kelly@kellymcdowell.com"&gt;kelly@kellymcdowell.com&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-8626123172336626616?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8626123172336626616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/trophy-wife.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8626123172336626616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8626123172336626616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/trophy-wife.html' title='Trophy Wife'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-6382283798274077250</id><published>2009-03-08T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T13:58:00.190-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='library'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gout'/><title type='text'>Foot in Mouth Disease</title><content type='html'>Well-Read in Richmond has this story to share:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hubby's been trying to take it easy cuz he's got gout, so he's been reading lots. Today we were headed to the library and he said he wanted to go take out some more non-fiction books to read. I mentioned something about the book he's currently reading (that I had taken out because I enjoy the author) and he said "well the book is too silly for me. I have an imagination and don't need to read up on someone else's silly thoughts." I replied, "so what does that make me?" He had to backtrack. Wonder if having the foot in his mouth helps with the gout.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Well-Read. Here's hoping mind opens before mouth next time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-6382283798274077250?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/6382283798274077250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/foot-in-mouth-disease.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/6382283798274077250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/6382283798274077250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/foot-in-mouth-disease.html' title='Foot in Mouth Disease'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-3360310559266072025</id><published>2009-03-07T19:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T19:27:02.191-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='submit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='submission'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>You Mean So Much To Me...</title><content type='html'>Hey ladies! I need your stories - I know they're out there... these funny husband moments are happening even as we speak! Share yours today, send your submission to me at kelly@kellymcdowell.com and of course, you'll remain anonymous though your hubby may become famous. Nameless, but famous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-3360310559266072025?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/3360310559266072025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/you-mean-so-much-to-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3360310559266072025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3360310559266072025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/you-mean-so-much-to-me.html' title='You Mean So Much To Me...'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-8030202918102335883</id><published>2009-03-06T11:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T12:09:47.710-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hair dye'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='goatee'/><title type='text'>I Could Just Dye</title><content type='html'>An entry courtesy of All Dyed Up in Albany&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So my husband complained that his goatee was coming in with more and more gray, so I told him I'd help him pick out some Just For Men dye to cover it up.  We went to the store, we picked out "light brown" dye.  It worked pretty well.  You can use it for a few applications, so it was a couple months before it ran out.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One day he walks in and his goatee is really really dark — not natural-looking at all.  I ask what happened.  He says, "I don't know.  I went out and got the same brand and I left it on for the same about of time.  It just came out really dark." So I ask, "What color did you buy?" He answers, "It comes in different colors?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Apparently he just grabbed a box (which turned out to be "brown/black") with the assumption that it is magical hair dye that "knows" to adjust the hair back to it's original color.  Keep in mind the fact that the men's hair dye is in the same aisle as the thousands of boxes of colors of women's hair dye.  But somehow the men's works differently...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least this husband is aware of his looks, albeit a little dumbfounded with how to go about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-8030202918102335883?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8030202918102335883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-could-just-dye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8030202918102335883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8030202918102335883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-could-just-dye.html' title='I Could Just Dye'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2314133634519430684</id><published>2009-03-04T19:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T19:40:01.536-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shop vac'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leaves'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall'/><title type='text'>Leaf Me Alone!</title><content type='html'>From Leafless in Loredo, we have a simple tale of a simple mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My husband is perfect. That said, I IMAGINE that if he was a little off he would probably start cleaning out the garage using the shop vac in the process. He would then notice that the new little tree in the front yard had dropped most of its leaves and haul the vac out to take care of the small pile of leaves at its base. While he was at it he would most likely strip the remaining 7 or 9 leaves off the tree. WITH THE SHOP VAC. Of course, at this moment the neighbor would come out of the house and see him doing this. Yep, the entire neighborhood thinks hubs is a little off. Oh, I forgot, this is all in my imagination...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Please, no one tell this wife that she's not imagining her hubby's odd behavior. She seems happy and safe in her imaginary world. :)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2314133634519430684?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2314133634519430684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/leaf-me-alone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2314133634519430684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2314133634519430684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/leaf-me-alone.html' title='Leaf Me Alone!'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-4897201656258669122</id><published>2009-03-03T15:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-03T15:43:39.546-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='divorce'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='records'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adoption'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='marriage'/><title type='text'>Separation Anxiety</title><content type='html'>This snippet is regards of LMAO in Laramie:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My husband and I are working on getting some documents ready for an adoption process. We needed a copy of his divorce certificate from his first marriage. I bugged him for days/weeks. Finally he said he ordered it from the state. It arrives, he opens it and says "Oh no, they couldn't find it - I guess they lost it or something..." I looked at it and noticed the note that said they were sorry but they found no record of his divorce from ME!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, you needed the name of my FORMER wife instead of my current? Details, details, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-4897201656258669122?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/4897201656258669122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/separation-anxiety.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/4897201656258669122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/4897201656258669122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/separation-anxiety.html' title='Separation Anxiety'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-1001183044469010669</id><published>2009-03-01T16:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T16:05:25.443-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><title type='text'>What a Pisser</title><content type='html'>Submitted by Pissed in Peoria, here's another story of hilarium...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I think he does the twist or something when he pees. All over the OUTSIDE of the bowl and on the floor and even on the wall opposite of the toilet. He has talent. He also cleans the bathroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies, if you have a tale of a stupid husband moment, please submit them to me at kelly@kellymcdowell.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember, we all love our husbands or boyfriends, we just know how to commiserate together through laughter, right? Right...?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-1001183044469010669?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/1001183044469010669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-pisser.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/1001183044469010669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/1001183044469010669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-pisser.html' title='What a Pisser'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-7138091597131376433</id><published>2009-02-28T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-28T11:02:19.948-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='forget'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>The Absent Minded Professor</title><content type='html'>This wife has been afflicted with a truly forgetful spouse. I thought my husband forgot a lot of things, but this husband seems to have true forgetful husband syndrome. Check it out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He IS the absent minded professor. Forgets where he puts things and blames me. He one time left the house to go to a meeting, FORGOT what he was doing so he came home and started to work. I asked him didn't he have a meeting? Oh! Right. Crap I missed it. But he had LEFT! Got in the car and was halfway there. I know he is not really stupid but sometimes....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-7138091597131376433?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/7138091597131376433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/absent-minded-professor.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/7138091597131376433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/7138091597131376433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/absent-minded-professor.html' title='The Absent Minded Professor'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-8059023464892355025</id><published>2009-02-27T13:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T13:12:38.371-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driving. parking'/><title type='text'>The Parking Bandit</title><content type='html'>This woman is being driven, or rather, parked nuts. Check out her stupid husband moment story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He can not leave a store and head for the car. Always goes the wrong way. Then argues that it is the RIGHT way. Then when he realizes that it IS the wrong way will accuse me of moving the car. Seriously. So now I just head for the car, get in and wait.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can relate to any of these stories, drop me a line to let me post your story for the world to laugh at. kelly@kellymcdowell.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-8059023464892355025?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8059023464892355025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/parking-bandit.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8059023464892355025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8059023464892355025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/parking-bandit.html' title='The Parking Bandit'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-6259574869368378811</id><published>2009-02-26T15:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T15:23:07.041-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tricks'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shower'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='man'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><title type='text'>That Blows</title><content type='html'>Apparently my husband is not the only one that favors blowing his nose in the shower. Thanks to this sufferer for sharing her story!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My husband blows his nose in the shower too! So gross. I keep begging him to use his hands and then just wash them, after all he IS in the shower...he says "Eww that's gross!" WTF? but blowing it all over the shower is somehow not?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-6259574869368378811?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/6259574869368378811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/that-blows.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/6259574869368378811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/6259574869368378811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/that-blows.html' title='That Blows'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2087135248877615857</id><published>2009-02-25T13:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T14:01:42.262-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sandwich'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='man'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='underwear'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Getting Picked Up</title><content type='html'>This woman had the perfect comeback for her husband when he attempted to be witty...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;My husband had to bring it to my attention yesterday that I made a sandwich and had left the salami on the counter and he had to pick it up. With out missing a beat I said without removing my eyes from the computer, "Well, I've picked your underwear off the bathroom floor for the last 26 YEARS and you don't see me bringing THAT up!"...perfect silence and an about face on his part..ha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2087135248877615857?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2087135248877615857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/getting-picked-up.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2087135248877615857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2087135248877615857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/getting-picked-up.html' title='Getting Picked Up'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-3400326653121687144</id><published>2009-02-24T13:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T13:50:25.126-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='suit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pants'/><title type='text'>If the Boss only Knew...</title><content type='html'>This stupid husband moment or SHM is not from my home. I'm so happy not to be alone in my suffering. :) I believe many a husband to be afflicted with this dressing disease. Maybe someday we'll discover a cure, but let us reserve hope as it seems unlikely...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He got a job in an office recently where he has to dress nice. We had to go out after his first day and buy him 2 weeks worth of clothes. Every single morning he asks me to pick out his outfit. I am not his mommy. I thought I made this very easy for him when I purposely bought black striped shirts for his black pants, blue striped shirts for his blue pants, and khakis that can go with anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Thanks for sharing your suffering with the public!&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-3400326653121687144?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/3400326653121687144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/if-boss-only-knew.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3400326653121687144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/3400326653121687144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/if-boss-only-knew.html' title='If the Boss only Knew...'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-165469253433239985</id><published>2009-02-22T08:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T08:43:30.186-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>Flexing with Fumes</title><content type='html'>This poor soul is making himself stupider on a daily basis. People, I urge you to intervene when you see stupid in production. Stop Stupid! Thanks for the submission, from a fellow Etsy user and SHM sufferer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ok, so here is probably the dumbest one of all... so my boyfriend loves working out in the garage but it's COLD out there. He'll run a torpedo heater, a kerosene heater, and a propane heater at the same time. Every night he comes in and says he has a headache. Sometimes I go check on him just to make sure he's still breathing. I tell him to crack the door or something but he says that defeats the purpose. Can't tell him anything! Maybe he's trying to off himself so he won't have to hear my nagging anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-165469253433239985?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/165469253433239985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/flexing-with-fumes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/165469253433239985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/165469253433239985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/flexing-with-fumes.html' title='Flexing with Fumes'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2149682243418061245</id><published>2009-02-21T18:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T18:27:34.193-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lazy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chicken'/><title type='text'>Dat's Just Nasty, Yo.</title><content type='html'>Oh you lucky people. No need for submissions today. I have my own great SHM (stupid husband moment) to post about tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made chicken salad for dinner tonight from scratch. My husband was nice enough to put away the leftovers. After which, I saw him rinse the bowl I used for the salad under water and put it back in the cupboard. Hmmm - problem. He rinsed the bowl, yes, but no soap, no scrubbing? I stop him and say, "um, did you wash that with soap and water?" He says, "No, but the chicken was cooked so it doesn't need to be washed with soap." Screetch.... halt. what? We actually got into an argument about why you have to wash things with soap. He claimed it does no better than water. Doy. Seriously, he's married to a SOAP MAKER. I know the friggin' merits of my product. Then, I call him out on just being lazy. He denies it saying he was just cutting corners. Doesn't that sound something like the definition of being lazy? Yikes. I need some chill pills now. As I think Aunt Jemima would say, "Oh, no you didn't."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2149682243418061245?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2149682243418061245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/dats-just-nasty-yo.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2149682243418061245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2149682243418061245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/dats-just-nasty-yo.html' title='Dat&apos;s Just Nasty, Yo.'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-8330506733438092537</id><published>2009-02-20T15:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T15:29:13.039-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='story'/><title type='text'>What do I do if I get hungry?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'll tell you what to do. Smack yourself for thinking something so stupid. Unless you're a child, you should probably be able to scrounge something up to satiate your hunger. If not, you're just stupid.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I love this submission - maybe we shouldn't do so much for our spouses...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sometimes my husband will go the entire day without eating if I am not home to make something. I really don't get it! I will get home and he will be like "good thing you are home...I'm so hungry I'm about to pass out."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;He knows how to cook and is actually a good cook...I don't get why he would get to the point of starvation and not just grab a snack...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-8330506733438092537?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/8330506733438092537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-do-i-do-if-i-get-hungry.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8330506733438092537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/8330506733438092537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-do-i-do-if-i-get-hungry.html' title='What do I do if I get hungry?'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-5791716066305765990</id><published>2009-02-19T13:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T13:58:13.822-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='asthma'/><title type='text'>Just take a breath...</title><content type='html'>Here's another stupid stuff my husband does post from another suffering wife... Not to say wives don't do anything stupid. We just don't talk about it. We love our hubbys, but here's another "stupid" story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;So we have an asthmatic cat, Brodie,  that needs to be given an inhaler twice a day (I know, this story also qualifies me for the "Insane Pet Owners Blog").  One night a few weeks ago I noticed that when I finished giving Brodie his inhaler, the counter on it read "0" which meant it was empty.  So I called the pharmacy and ordered a refill.  Now normally my husband (who is also wrapped around our kitties' paws) gives Brodie his medicine in the morning, but I'm the one who manages his meds, dr.'s appts, etc.  So I told my darling husband that if he could, please pick up the new inhaler in the morning so that Brodie has his medicine, as I wouldn't be able to pick it up until after work.   He said "no problem" and I'm thinking I have such a nice, dependable husband.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Fast forward to 6pm when I come home from work.  There is Brodie's old inhaler sitting on the counter and the new one still in the pharmacy bag sitting next to it.  Once my immediate anger of "what the hell" had subsided, I reminded myself that I have the occational "brain fart" myself and that he probably got the new inhaler and then forgot to use it.  So a few hours later when my husband comes home I jokingly ask "So, did you have a brain fart today?  You forgot to give Brodie his new inhaler."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"No, I just used the old one."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"On purpose?  Why wouldn't you use the new one?  The old one was empty!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;"Nah, it still had something in there. He's fine".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;My husband walks out of the room and I stand there dumbfounded wondering why on earth he would bother going to the pharmacy to pick up a new inhaler and then not even use it.  I'm still completely perplexed by his "logic."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I know this "logic" - it's the "I wouldn't want to waste a potential penny even if it means the pain of a loved one may be involved." I too have seen it in action. Thanks for your submission, insane pet lover and stupid stuff my husband does sufferer!&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-5791716066305765990?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/5791716066305765990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/just-take-breath.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/5791716066305765990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/5791716066305765990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/just-take-breath.html' title='Just take a breath...'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-255445746232019541</id><published>2009-02-17T21:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T21:26:00.427-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='humor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='funny'/><title type='text'>The Babbling Bloke</title><content type='html'>Here's a submission from a fellow sufferer of stupid husband tricks... Thanks for sharing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One day, I was getting all the ingredients into the breadmaker and meanwhile, he's babbling about something inane, and with some numbers thrown in. I know I should be able to concentrate better than that, but it threw me off how many tsps of yeast I'd put in. And even when I told him to stop talking for a minute so I could count, he starts talking about how he hates it when people are talking to him when he's trying to concentrate on something, not getting at all that's exactly what he's doing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I believe Janine in Ghostbusters said "Men, can't live with them, can't trade them in for parts."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, many a husband claims he really does listen. Further proof that just isn't true... If you have a stupid husband/boyfriend story, please submit it to kelly@kellymcdowell.com so we can share in your suffering. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-255445746232019541?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/255445746232019541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/babbling-bloke.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/255445746232019541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/255445746232019541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/babbling-bloke.html' title='The Babbling Bloke'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3894284626477778926.post-2229545318290946551</id><published>2009-02-16T19:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T19:55:53.068-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid'/><title type='text'>Pulling Weeds</title><content type='html'>So, this is the first post in what I hope will be a series of very hilarious situations that women experience with their husbands or boyfriends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To kick off the the blog, I'm sharing one of my husband's many stupid husband tricks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last summer, we spent a whole day planting flowers, bushes and such throughout the back yard. After all the extensive planting, we were exhausted and finished for the day. The next day, my husband had work off and I went to run errands in town. I came back to find many of the bushes we had planted pulled out of the ground and discarded among the weeds. I angrily went in to ask what happened - my husband claimed, "I thought they were weeds." OK - couple of stupid things attributed to him at this point...1. he helped plant them. 2. The bushes pulled were boxelder bushes which look nothing like a weed with their lush green leaves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you have a funny stupid husband or boyfriend story, video or photo, send them to me at kelly@kellymcdowell.com!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3894284626477778926-2229545318290946551?l=stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/feeds/2229545318290946551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/pulling-weeds.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2229545318290946551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3894284626477778926/posts/default/2229545318290946551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stupidstuffmyhusbanddoes.blogspot.com/2009/02/pulling-weeds.html' title='Pulling Weeds'/><author><name>mollycoddle</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06385576092472202282</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l7mlDZLSeH8/SKnvYaYTdeI/AAAAAAAAAZw/Y_pe24moUJw/S220/Picture+2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
