Random Facts

My husband doesn’t read books.

Well, not real books. He does, however, love the Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader books – you know, the ones with a ton of random facts. I even bought him a few Bathroom Reader CDs a while back to listen to while he goes on long drives for work. He loves these books so much that he’s pretty much the Random Trivia King Genius of the World. NO. JOKE. You want him on your team if you’re playing a trivia game… he WILL win.

Anyway… a few days ago he discovered the Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader iPhone app. Oh joy – random trivia 24/7.

So, the other night we’re laying in bed. I’m falling asleep, Adam is playing on his phone. All of a sudden, breaking the silence at one o’clock in the morning…

“Hey, you wanna hear about aardvarks?”

‘Tis The Season

Every year since I’ve been without my mom during the holidays (since 2005), decorating my house has been rough – emotionally. I always cry while I hang family ornaments on my tree, and listening to Christmas music just tugs at my heartstrings. On top of that, Adam gets all grinchy during Christmas because it’s a fairly stressful time for him at work, so I always end up decorating BY MYSELF. How fun.

This year, however, Adam offered to help.


Yep… SuperHubs actually made time just to help Ellie and I decorate our Christmas tree. –pause for collective “awwwwwww”– I was ridiculously happy to spend an evening at home with just my family – Mommy, Daddy, Ellie & Tali. Gives me warm fuzzies just thinking about it. 🙂

A few gems from that evening:

Adam: Ohp! Gotta do an egg.

Me: What? An egg?

Adam: Duh, I do it every year.

Me: You’ve NEVER done “an egg” – what does that even mean?

Adam: It means cool. Doesn’t it look cool?

Me: I’ve never even heard of this, EVER.

Adam: I do this every year. Call my brother.

—I call Alex–

Me: Hey Bro! Did you guys decorate your tree yet?

Alex: No not yet.

Me: Oh, well are you gonna do an egg this year?

Alex: WTF does that mean?


Also, by the way, the egg IS cool. Adam hollowed out an egg from the fridge and then put a hole in it and attached it to a light on the tree. It IS cool… I’ve just never ever seen him do it before. Being that this is the FIRST YEAR EVER that he’s helped decorate the tree, I don’t see how he could have done this “every year, duh.”

Okay, in the spirit of equality… here is one where I’M the loser, lol:

Adam: Do we have to hang all of these bells? There’s too many bells on this tree. Isn’t there only supposed to be one? Like, every time a bell rings an angel gets it’s wings?

Me: This isn’t Peter Pan, weirdo.

Adam: Um, it’s from ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’, weirdo.

Me: Huh. What was Peter Pan then?


Yeeeeaaaaaah. I *may* have been drinking.

Real Men and Smart Phones

Although Adam and I aren’t quite cool enough yet to run out and grab the new iPhone 4s, we did jump at the opportunity to upgrade to the newest operating system (“to the cloud!”).

Three hours and a little bit of yelling/cussing/kicking (common with all iTunes interactions in our household) later… we were blissfully using iOS5. Cloud and all.

What we did NOT consider, however, is that we share an iTunes account… so that awesome cloud syncing? Put all of my contacts in Adam’s phone and all of Adam’s contacts in my phone. AND it merged any contacts that we had entered exactly the same in both of our phones… so when I tried to call my dad yesterday (labeled “Dad”) my phone kept dialing Dirk’s old phone number. Rad.

Because I didn’t want to accidentally lose all of my contacts, I decided to just go through and manually delete the contacts of Adam’s that I didn’t want.


Observe – some of the (hilarious) contacts I came across:

  • Bob man boat
  • boat
  • boo walker
  • ASS
  • Chassis George
  • Dave beer
  • Kenai River
  • kinda
  • Lead Shot
  • mooses

I was cracking up so hard while going through my phone yesterday that people thought something was wrong with me. Apparently, this is how “real men” enter information into their phones.


 (it wasn’t my phone number)






Winner Winner, Chicken Dinner

Looks like I’ll be eating a lot of chicken dinners over the next four months in order to become a “winner winner”!

Adam and I decided last weekend that we’re going to have a full-on competition to see who can get the hottest for our trip to Hawaii in February. While pigging out on churros and guacamole and Tony Roma’s ribs in California, we set our parameters:

  • Whoever loses the highest percentage of body weight by the day we leave wins.
  • Winner gets $500 to spend however they’d like – no whining or bitching from the loser (this means that when I win I can spend $500 on makeup or shoes without having to explain myself – YESSSSSSSS)
  • No crazy unhealthy fasting (*sigh*); nutritious foods and old-fashioned excercise only
  • Weigh-ins will be every Monday, and we’re keeping a log posted on the fridge

We did the math –  it’s fortunate (and fair) that we both are wanting to lose about the same percentage of weight. I’ll omit Adam’s numbers for the time being, because I didn’t ask his permission if I could publish his weight on the internet… but here are mine:

  • 10/10 Starting Weight: 147 (ohgodpleasedon’tjudgemeeventhoughIgavebirthlikeayearago)
  • 2/9 Goal Weight: 122
  • Goals: -25lbs, -17%

So… it’s settled. I am going to be so effing hot in 4 months it’s ridiculous. I’ve spent the entire last 4 days just fantasizing about myself. Really. Fantasizing about being so hot that I have to fan myself with the 500 one-dollar bills I’m going to make Adam give me. Also, the benefit here is that Adam is going to be SMOKIN’ hot as well… he’ll just be a smokin’ hot loser (although is he really “losing” if he gets to parade around Maui with a gorgeously thin and fit bikini-clad trophy wife??).

WISH ME LUCK!! (I’m already at 145)

Goal Me (pic from my wedding day)


I think I’ve been had…

My dad gave me this beautiful hanging plant that my stepmom used as a decoration at our wedding (I don’t know what it is, but it’s pretty white flowers in a basket). I hung it off of my porch, which lets it hang over the small walkway to our front door — you can’t really avoid walking underneath it to get in and out of the house.

ANYWAY… a few weeks ago Adam comes in and says, to no one in particular, “You know, I like that plant out there, but the downside is that it really attracts the spiders.”

I didn’t think I was listening… until this afternoon when I was walking in from my car… and I realized that for the LAST FEW WEEKS, everysingletime I leave or return to my house, I duck/sway/cringe/make whimpering noises/leap out of the way and/or cuss to avoid the damn “spider-pot”!!!

And for the record… I have not seen ONE SINGLE SPIDER.

So… was he messing with me? Because it totally worked. And my neighbors probably think I have Tourette’s, dancing around out there in my lovely work clothes every day.

I’ll get you, my pretty… I’ll get you.

Can you find the ketchup?

Yesterday Adam yelled down the stairs at me to “please go out to the truck and get his clean boxers because he’s taking a shower and he already has all of his clothes off…”

To which I replied “you only have ONE pair of boxers that are clean?” and he said “I only have like 6 pairs” and I said “WE’RE NOT POOR, YOU KNOW.”

Anyway, I agreed to run outside. The last words I had heard included “on the floor behind the driver’s seat” so naturally that’s where I looked.

Obviously, I am stupid.

I searched and searched for a good 5 minutes, and then came in. No boxers. Adam told me “Jenny, I SAID they’re on the floor  the driver’s seat toward the back you have to lift it up”!!!!

Oh, my bad. So I went out and searched again following the new/old directions I think. Came in. No boxers.

Adam, superpissed, storms out the front door in a towel, immediately reaches in without even looking and magically pulls out a wrinkled, holey pair of scraggleboxers (actually, a lot like a magician pulling a bunny out of a hat, now that I think of it). “SEE? I was perfectly clear.”

Upon further inspection, I see that he pulled out the boxers from behind the driver’s seat, behind a case of wine, under the folded-down seat, between the seat and the floor. Obviously, I am stupid.

My favorite part of this whole exchange?

Me: Why are you so upset? Because I couldn’t follow your 18-sentence directions on how to find your holey wrinkly boxers stuffed into the inner workings of your truck? 

Adam: GAAAH. I swear, Jenny… this is just like how you get mad at me for not being able to find shit in the fridge.

Oh, I’m so sorry honey. Yes, this is *exactly* like when I ask you to get the ketchup out of the fridge and you look for 5 minutes and then give up.

Let’s play a supergame: Can YOU find the ketchup?


Electronics aren’t Jenny-proof?

**While I’m on vacation (visiting family and BlogHer-ing) for a few weeks, please enjoy some Superwife classics… posts for which I get the most irl (in-real-life) comments and/or compliments. Have a super few weeks and I’ll be back sooooon!**


Quotes from a small scuffle between Adam and I this afternoon (we’re in the middle of a move!):

Me: “…Well, I just don’t want you thinking I’ll be able to pack up this whole household all by myself!”

Adam: “First of all, I don’t think that. Second, I don’t even TRUST you to pack up everything by yourself.”

Me: “Whaaaaaaaa?”

Adam: “Well, since you’re a girl and have no regard for the value of anything, and you think that all electronics are made out of rock, I wouldn’t want you just throwing everything into a box and calling it packing.” (picture him using the “quote fingers” with the word “packing”)

Me: (giggle… giggle snort… giggle) “I don’t DO that!” (I totally do)


That husband of mine, he’s so mean and ruthless perceptive!