Annoying Partners
As a recent divorcee, it would be churlish to reveal what annoys me the most about my ex, apart from that unfortunate business with the crinkle-cut beetroot which tipped us over the edge. So, what winds you up about your significant other? If you have no partner, tell us about workmates. If you have no workmates, improvise with an annoying tramp
( , Thu 4 Aug 2011, 14:47)
As a recent divorcee, it would be churlish to reveal what annoys me the most about my ex, apart from that unfortunate business with the crinkle-cut beetroot which tipped us over the edge. So, what winds you up about your significant other? If you have no partner, tell us about workmates. If you have no workmates, improvise with an annoying tramp
( , Thu 4 Aug 2011, 14:47)
« Go Back
Minimalism
I used to live like a marine - everything neatly tidied and squared away, everything clean and tidy, no clutter and little or no furniture except for a futon and a weights bench. I could cook full meals with very few utensils, tidy up after myself, and generally behave like the OCD freak I acknowledge myself to be.
My (now) wife moves in, and within a month, the place looks like Widow Twanky's fucking wash-room. There are clothes everywhere. It looks like Boots have backed up to my bathroom and emptied a lorry's worth of supplies in there. Soft furnishings are now breeding like rabbits, and there is an alarming upswing in the volume of crockery, pots, pans and single-use kitchen utensils, which now festoon every single available surface in the kitchen. I no longer have a bedroom - I have an Ikea showroom.
This isn't limited to the house.
Any time my car is borrowed, it comes back filled with tissues, sweet wrappers, receipts, carrier bags and fuck alone only knows what else.
What. The. Fuck.
( , Thu 4 Aug 2011, 21:51, 7 replies)
I used to live like a marine - everything neatly tidied and squared away, everything clean and tidy, no clutter and little or no furniture except for a futon and a weights bench. I could cook full meals with very few utensils, tidy up after myself, and generally behave like the OCD freak I acknowledge myself to be.
My (now) wife moves in, and within a month, the place looks like Widow Twanky's fucking wash-room. There are clothes everywhere. It looks like Boots have backed up to my bathroom and emptied a lorry's worth of supplies in there. Soft furnishings are now breeding like rabbits, and there is an alarming upswing in the volume of crockery, pots, pans and single-use kitchen utensils, which now festoon every single available surface in the kitchen. I no longer have a bedroom - I have an Ikea showroom.
This isn't limited to the house.
Any time my car is borrowed, it comes back filled with tissues, sweet wrappers, receipts, carrier bags and fuck alone only knows what else.
What. The. Fuck.
( , Thu 4 Aug 2011, 21:51, 7 replies)
But at least
you have a loving wife and the sex is fantastic... right?
( , Thu 4 Aug 2011, 22:04, closed)
you have a loving wife and the sex is fantastic... right?
( , Thu 4 Aug 2011, 22:04, closed)
Soft furnishings are now breeding like rabbits?
Shirley you mean multiplying like tribbles?
( , Fri 5 Aug 2011, 7:54, closed)
Shirley you mean multiplying like tribbles?
( , Fri 5 Aug 2011, 7:54, closed)
Futon and a weights bench . . . .
The only items of furniture a real man needs.
( , Fri 5 Aug 2011, 10:04, closed)
The only items of furniture a real man needs.
( , Fri 5 Aug 2011, 10:04, closed)
Agreed
All the warning signs were there, including not actually being able to see the bedroom floor in her flat for the amount of clothes, magazines, junk and general female bric-a-brac which she accumulates.
( , Fri 5 Aug 2011, 11:27, closed)
All the warning signs were there, including not actually being able to see the bedroom floor in her flat for the amount of clothes, magazines, junk and general female bric-a-brac which she accumulates.
( , Fri 5 Aug 2011, 11:27, closed)
« Go Back