If this is your first time visiting The Midnight Goose or, especially, reading about “Things My Wife Says”, you came on a good day.  JoJo (the missus) has put up with a lot of nonsense lately–which is normal–but it varies greatly from week to week.  Sometimes even day to day.  Sometimes we can get through nearly half a day before she has to brandish the cattle prod menacingly to make me settle down.  Not that it keeps me calm for an awfully long time…

Needless to say, as you all know (or are about to learn), JoJo wakes up rolling her eyes.  She doesn’t even have to open her eyelids first ’cause she sleeps with her eyes open.  Not even one–both.  She never knows what kinds of nonsense I’ll get up to, so she’s on “high alert” all day long, every day, all year long.  She doesn’t even take off for holidays.  In fact, she’s probably more alert on holidays.  Mix my natural crazy with the extra stress that the holidays cause, and you may find me on the  Empire State Building swatting at planes.  While eating a seasonal treat, of course.

Anyhow, here is an update in regards to the shit she puts up with:

In November, while JoJo will be on vacation, we plan to adopt a dog.  Why?  Because, per Jodi, she “needs something to love”.  I keep pointing out that she’s saying that to her husband, but she just shrugs and walks away.  Well…to be a good HUSBAND, I was on Pet Finder the other night, looking to see what kinds of critters are out there.  I know it’s seven months early, but why not, right?  Well, we ran across a dog that JoJo thinks would be a perfect fit for us.  But when I noticed that the dog was named “Bobby”, I put on my best Whitney Houston voice and started screaming “BAWWWWBEH!” repeatedly through the night.  Apparently, I’m supposed to work this out of my system in case we do adopt the dog–don’t wanna frighten the little fellow on the first day…

Say what you want, while Whitney Houston is a national treasure, she also provided a shit-ton of crazy to pull from.

So…Jodi asked me to fill out an adoption application so that we can schedule a “Meet and Greet” with “Bobby”.  (BAWWWWBEH!!)  Which, let me just say, I feel that an adoption application at some of these rescue shelters is just ridiculous.  They want to know your names (that’s okay, I guess), your address, your ages, occupations, how long you’ve worked at that particular place and lived at your current address, veterinarian references, who your next of kin is, what your blood type and shoe size is, and if you’re Team Backstreet or Team N*Sync…

Anyway, I agreed to fill out the application, but advised that all of the information would be JoJo’s.  I’m not havin’ these dog-kissing crazies blowing up my phone pressuring me to drive an hour to meet some dog you have to pay $150 to adopt.


Speaking of which…ONE-HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS??  Like, real dollars.  You can’t pay in corn chips.  These fuckers want you to give them $150 to take a dog off their hands.  I mean…Give me a full tank of gas and I’ll drive down the back roads and come back with three dogs, five cats, and a new couch.  Maybe a new crazy uncle to join the family, too.  One-hundred and fifty dollars my fat ass.  Do you want me to be able to buy the dog some food once I have it??  I’ll pay the adoption fee, but the fucker better be house trained, leash-trained, know how to shake and sit, and do dishes.  If he can fix a basic meal like spaghetti, even better.

Hell, with a name like BAWWWWBEH, he better come with a bag of crack rock, go out on the corner, make some dough, then pay a bill up in this piece.  Shiiiiiit.

Anyhoozles….we might be getting a dog.  His name is BAWWWWBEH!  I’ll keep you all abreast of how this turns out.  And just for funsies, here’s two recent texts between me and JoJo.  Enjoy.


Until next time…


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