Advice to HIMs Everywhere OR Why One Shouldn't Compare Their Wife to a Mythical (?) Beast

Recently I hurt my back.  In the interest of brevity (Hahahahahaha, I actually know what brevity means) I will make the back story short.  (Well, as short as I can make it.)  We moved.  I bitched.  Our new house needs work.  I started with my office.  Then I did my daughter's room.  I killed my back lifting a paint can.  (True story!)

(See.  Completely and utterly brevitious.  Did I make up a word?  Probably but the dictionary is too heavy to lift so I'm not going to check.)  (Googling it did not require heavy lifting so I did that instead.  Apparently other people have used the word first, but I don't care.)  (BREVITIOUS!  The act of using brevity.  In other words, limiting the use of words.  Being able to shut up in a timely fashion.  Not talking too much.  Keeping it to a minimum.  NOT FAT WOMAN!)

Ah, yes.  Getting off the subject.  I'd imagine that most of you are wondering when I'm getting to the subject of the title.  Wonky back does not equal title.  It does.  I'm getting to it.

I have consumed my morning allotment of ibuprofen and tea so I'm feeling well enough to blog.  Sitting in the office chair doesn't seem to bother me unless I lean drastically one way or the other.  (I have a long stick to whack anyone who comes to mess with me so I don't need to lean.  What?  It needed to be said.)

HIM, the man to whom I've been married for nearly three decades, has been supportive.  Mostly.  "Don't lift that, honey.  I'll do it."  "I'll carry the laundry in for you."  "I don't want to do the dishes.  Wait, yes I do."  However, (Did you suspect that there would be a "however" in there somewhere?  Bet you did.) several years ago I hurt my back in a similar manner and one day HIM made the mistake of saying that I looked like Bigfoot.

You might be saying at this moment, "And HIM is still breathing?  How very extraordinary."  It is, after all, truly miraculous that a significant other would make such an appalling statement to their somewhat volitile wife and live to rue the day, but not only to rue the day but possibly to repeat the mistake.  Truly, truly, truly a miracle.  Men reading this blog at this moment should learn from the lesson.  Never compare your wife to Bigfoot.  It's a golden rule.  I think it's implicit.  She doesn't say anything about your stinky feet and you don't call her a Bigfoot.  I think I should put it by itself, in caps, italics, in red, and larger because it's such an important rule:

NEVER COMPARE YOUR WIFE TO BIGFOOT!

But there is a back story to the comment.  I hurt my back.  One day I was walking away from HIM and he said something.  I turned back to look at him and since my back was hurting, it was a very awkward movement.  HIM said it looked just like this:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patterson-Gimlin_film

Come on, everyone's seen this film.  Taken by this guy, Roger Patterson, in 1967.  He said that he and this other guy were off in the woods, doing stuff best not mentioned by polite company, when suddenly female Bigfoot wanders out in front of them.  (Please try to remember this is the era where Droids and cell phones did not exist.)  So Roger whipped out his camera (which probably weighed thirty pounds) whilst his horse was bucking and he took this minute or two's worth of film of...the creature.  (I think they're lucky she wasn't having PMS or she would have stomped over and put the camera where the sun doesn't shine.  How do I know that she wasn't having PMS?  Well, because she didn't stomp over to them and put the camera where the sun doesn't shine.)  Wait, I'll link you to the footage on YouTube.  (Why?  Because I'm making a point and foreshadowing HIM's verbal misadventure in a way that amuses me.)

There ya go.  1967 footage of Big freaking foot.  Except Bigfoot's got boobies and her feet don't look that big to me.  The Wikipedia article about this film makes a big deal out of hairy boobies.  Apparently most hominids don't have hairy boobies.  (I'm easily distracted and who doesn't want to know about hairy boobies?)  I like this clip because they make the Shefoot walk backwards.  Any second and I'm expecting her to moonwalk.  (That's where Michael Jackson really got the idea from.  My right hand to God.)

Yes, that is a sequined glove on Shefoot's hand.  She's bad.

Now that you've watched the footage you can probably intuit where HIM got the idea that I looked like Bigfoot when I turned the upper half of my body to look at him.  Unfortunately for HIM, this was one of those times where he should have kept the clever witticism to himself.  HIM did not.

Also unfortunately for HIM, there was a Bigfoot show on one of the Discovery/Science channels last night where the Patterson-Gimlin film was shown, for the one thousandth time this year alone.  (I hope the widow Patterson is getting a few dimes every time they show the damn film, but she probably isn't.)  So what did HIM do?

Yes.  HIM did it.  Again.

Husbands/boyfriends, I don't care if you know for a fact that your spouse/significant other has a wondrous sense of humor equal to Don Rickles/Bob Hope/Eddie Murphy (in his twenties), don't do it.  She'll hold it against you.

There.  Now you know.