Posted by: guinness222 | November 3, 2008

“Never turn the clocks again, it’ll kill you!

   It all started innocently enough. the Wife had to sing at church Saturday evening at 5 p.m., and I was going to take her to dinner at our favorite Italian place, Fat Clemenza’s afterward. But rules are rules, as a “real” Catholic, I only go to church on Sunday, none of this pansy ass Saturday evening stuff, therefor the rule is very simple, “Drop me at the Pub (Buster’s) on your way to church and I’ll watch the football games, and you can pick me up afterwards.” Begrudgingly it is the better of two evils, the other being, I’ll drive myseelf to Buster’s! So she usually procrastinates like crazy in leaving the house to drop me unitl the last possible second for her to get to church on time. But that’s ok, I’m a professional folks! (Don’t ask what!) So off we go and she drops me off. Go in , my pint’s already on the rack brewing (They know if I’m not there at 3pm, then either a) the wife has church at 4:30, so have one ready and I’ll be in, or the lesser desired option,….b) I’m dead, and can’t make the trip.

        When Icalled for a reservation they were not open yet so you leave your name and number and they will call you back to confirm. My friend Dominick owns Clemenza’s so while I was enjoying the game and the Guinness he called me back and says “You requested a party of two for 6:30pm?” “I said “Yes I did, is that a problem?” (Sometimes they are jammin’ til well after 9:30 pm and I was late calling in) “Yeah,”, he says, “We don’t take no reservations from the Irish,…capice?” I was a little schocked and said, “Aaah,…I uh,…” , “Hey it’s me Dominick, I always got a place for you, see you at 6:30,….oh,…by the way,…gotcha!” (It’s nice to have friends, you know? Even ones with warped senses of humor.)

       Well as luck, (or the “goodness of the Lord”) would have it she gets the old Monsignor saying Mass, (add an extra 30 minutes to the program, they always got a lot to sermonize on, you know?) So I’m having a pint, or two, and reflecting on the Boston College/Clemson game on the Tube, when I realize it’s really been a pretty good week and I am rather happy, despite B.C. currently losing 17-0. I beckon the bartender over and request ” a wee taste” of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey to sip with me Guinness (They don’t carry Bushmill’s, or Tullamore Dew,…bloody heathans!). Then I had another pint, and soon it was getting to be time for my Chariot to appear. Rather than require my wife to call me on my cell (it pisses her off when she is parked out front and has to call me to get my ass off the barstool and come out), I paid up and went out front to await, five minutes, later there she was, I got in, and it started right then and there!

      “You know tonight we have to turn back the clocks an hour.”, says she.

      “Shit, it’s pitch black now when I get up at five-thirty, six o’cloock, that ‘s all I need is another hour of darkness!” , says me.

      There is a pause and she say’s “You got it wrong, it will be lighter when you get up in the morning.”

      “Look,”, says I again, ” if it’s dark at five, and dark at six and it’s six o’clock now and I turn the clock back to five how is it going to be “lighter”?, says me utilizing my new found grey cells with the liberal application of the Guinness elixer bringing light to my mental horizons. Fortunately we arrived at the restaurant.

      So we get seated, I order a glass of Pinot Grigio, my wife wants Iced Water, and we order dinner. She has the eggplant lasagna (It’s about three inches high and makes you drool, even if you don’t like eggplant) , I order the Veal Marsalla, and we dig into the salads and bread while we wait for the entree’s.

      “You know you’re wrong.”, says she, “It is lighter in the morning. It was started to give us more daylight time, so farmers in the old days before electricity , wouldn’t have to do morning chores and milking and all in the dark, and could have a more productive day.”

      “Honey,” (manspeak, for “Look, I’m right, now pay attention and I’ll explain it again to you.”) Ok, I’ll cop to being a male chauvanist pig occassionally it’s a genetic thing, not the real soft, cuddly, and loving me. ) And again we get into the logical rational explanation,….and again,…but she’s not buying it,…at all! I called Dominick over to settle it once and for all and we ask him. The snake takes the easy way out, “Ooops! That table over there needs me, …excussa.” and he vanishes.

      I ordered another glass of Pinot, we enjoyed and finished dinner, ordered some Tiremasu for desert and are still going at it. I’m getting a big hoot out of her determination, and as determined as she is, I’m finding it even more humorous, and chuckling uncontrollably. We head home and are still “chatting”. I’m still defending my position to the hilt, because good food, good wine, good Guinness have made it a good day thus far.

      Now, when a woman doesn’t want to argue any more, it’s very simple, they end it with the six word phrase, and a two word command, ready,…..”You’ve had too much to drink,….Shut up!” Now, as a “survivor” for 42 years I know to just shut up, count the cars passing us, and upon threat of an imminent and painful demise, …say nothing,….even if a bolt of lightning shoots up my ass, keep my mouth shut!  Never an easy task when Artur P. Guinness gets involved in your mind and is reccomending otherwise,…but I’m strong, I kept it shut.

      So we get home, watch a couple TV shows and head for bed. She scurries around the house turning back all the clocks, and as tempted as I am, despite the little voice in my head saying “Explain it again, she’ll get it this time.” I keep my mouth shut and go to sleep.

        Lo and behold when I awake it is bright as day in the bedroom, I glance over at the clock and it’s reading “5:30 a.m.”,……only one one word came to mind,….one single word,….”SHIT!” so I lay there trying to develope my “recovery strategy”. A while later, about a half hour in fact she wakes up and rolls over with a twisted grin and looks directly at me. So I carefully, after great consideration open up my strategic recovery defense,…”I’m sorry, I was wrong.” (Humbly said, with sheepish smile, and just enough true believability to minimize the “See I told you so,…” lecture.)

      She smiled and said “So you know the price you are paying right? You remember from last night’s bet?”

      (SHIT, what did I say and what did I bet? think, think,think,….)

     “Oh, that,… well you know I was kidding don’t you?”

     “You don’t remember do you?”

     (Bite the bullet and take it like a man.) “Honestly No, I was thinking about the contract I need to do on Monday morning,…”

      “Yeah, bullshit you were, you don’t remember! Well you are going to clean the bathrooms today, clean that pit of an office of your’s , put out all the trash and scoop the kitty litter boxes and make supper. That’s what you said, And since it’s bright enough to read a book and it’s only 6 am,…what’s for supper?”

      I won’t go into all the gory details but the bathrooms didn’t look that dirty to me, hell I could just kind of wipe them up and dry polish the chrome and all would be well, Trash, kitty litter no big deal, but Supper,…supper,…hmmm!

      “Hey you know what Honey, we haven’t had Colenel Sanders Fried Chicken in a long time.”


     “Well how about some Chinese. You know spare ribs sweet and sour chicken, teriyaki beef strips,…”


     “But you said I’m a lousy cook, I might screw it all up.”

     “You can do it til you get it right then, you ARE cooking.”

     I guess I’m going to be a lot sharper on making any bets in the future. Getting the bathrooms done about killed me, I’ve worked with softer Drill Instructors, Wardens and the like in getting a final,… “Well it’s not perfect,…but it’ll pass.”

     And Sims, all she had was “Blue shit.”!! No Pink shit, and No Green shit. You trained me in the ways of the commercial cleaner, I thought I was a good student and “grasshopper”, Master,… but  what do you do when there is no pink shit, or green shit? How can you possibly clean anything?  Please reply, I need a backup plan for next time my big mouth, Guinness,  Jameson, and a touch of Pinot Grigio betray my ignorance of the globe spinning on it’s axis around the sun, and stupid productivity policy change things 🙂



  1. The bottom line is, just shut the fuck up and don’t ever contradict you wife. I’ll post about this later.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: