Sunday, June 15, 2008

Every day is something new.

So. Our heat pump is messed up.

I have no idea why it's messed up, but on Friday, it stopped working and we are sitting in, as Jason so attractively puts it, "ball soup".

Yesterday the high only got up to around eighty-five. Today, it's supposed to be in the 90's. The guy who lives next door works for a company that repairs heat pumps. Friday night he told us he'd come by around noon on Saturday and take a look at it. (We'll pay him of course). At around 3pm yesterday, he still hadn't showed and Jason, miserable and desperately hot, went over and knocked on the door. He was informed that he didn't really live there anymore, he just stayed there from time to time and apparently they had some kind of fight and she didn't know when/if he was coming and you know what that means?

Ball soup.

Jason said, "Please let's just go somewhere for a little while" and we decided we'd go to Chick-fil-A because they have a huge indoor play area we could sit at for a while and also, we really like chicken.

Jason went to get dressed and he came out wearing...a tank top. A tank top that said, "Diamond Head Hawaii".

I have never in my life seen my husband in a tank top. Never. Jason wearing a tank top is like...seeing a nun in a bikini wearing a baseball cap that says, "Rock out with your cock out!" It's just not done.

He looked at me and said, "Yeah. I'm wearing a tank top. It's so hot I just don't even care."

And so I did what any loving, supportive wife would do.


I laughed so hard my sides hurt.


Not that he looked bad, mind you. Because he didn't. He looked fine. He actually has big arms that would make certain men wear sleeveless shirts everywhere, including church. But it was just so funny to see Jason in a tank top. I can't even explain why, really.

We got in the car, after he insisted that Boy Child change from a t-shirt to a tank-top so they would "match" and I asked him when he had went to Hawaii. He hadn't. His mom and step-dad had brought it back from their honeymoon. They got married before I even met Jason, so it's had to be like fifteen years ago, which is further proof that my husband holds on to everything way past it's prime. I don't care if it was the last thing hanging in his closet (and really, who hangs tank tops in their closet unless they are Hulk Hogan?), fifteen years of hanging there unused is a very, very long time.

We get to Chick-fil-A and sit down. Boy Child sits with Jason after insisting that "Tank-top dudes" have to stick together.

The people at the next booth over keep staring at Jason and his tank top. I said, "You know what they are thinking, right?"

"No, what?"

"They're thinking, 'That guy wore that tank top just so he could show off his tattoo! Who does he think he is! This is a CHRISTIAN ESTABLISHMENT!'"

Heh.

We hung out there for a while, enjoying the air conditioner. Finally, we decided to head back to our house.

As we were driving home Jason said, "I can't believe I'm wearing a tank top in public."

"I know," I agreed. "Even after almost nine years of knowing you, you're still full of surprises."

We were silent for a moment and then he asked.

"Is tank-top-in-public wearing a divorceable offense?"

"Maybe," I said.

We laughed.

"Are you going to divorce me and my tank-top, babe?"

"Never."

And it's true. I won't even divorce him even though he closed a document I've been working on without saving and I've lost about six hours of work on it.

And that's definately a divorceable offense too.

25 comments:

AndreAnna said...

That is hysterical!

Chandra said...

I realized this morning that sensitivity to humidity is in direct proportion to age. I'm 33, and my thermostat reads 76 degrees.

But I'm still miserable! I totally empathize.

Oh, and I banned public tank tops a few years ago. I can't stand them!

Jenski said...

Deep down, did Jason know what he was doing was ridiculous and make Boy Child do the same to feel less ridiculous?

Tarasview said...

is a heat pump the same thing as an air conditioner?

and is chick-a-fill really a Christian establishment? (we don't have them in Canada) Does the USofA really have Christian restaurants?

and if my husband lost 6 pages of my work I would FREAK out. So well done on not divorcing him :)

Anonymous said...

I hereby resolve to not pass judgement on the next guy I see who's wearing a tank top. Maybe he's NOT a douchebag. Even if he is, he'll get the benefit of the doubt, just this once.

Frannie said...

he's lucky to have you!!

and his tank top.

Anonymous said...

Loosing six hours of work is not grounds for divorce, it's justifiable homicide.

Anonymous said...

OMG. Summer and no AC do NOT go together. Ours started acting up a bit AGAIN and we said screw it. We just bought a completely new system which hopefully will be installed tomorrow or the next day.

Of course it costs as much as a used car.

Or the trailer I lived in while going to college. But to have a reliable source of cool air? Worth every damn penny!

Anonymous said...

RLMAO!!! "Rock out with your cock out". I almost peed myself reading that. thanks for the laugh. Oh and ouch about your lost work.... geez.

Kimberly Vanderhorst said...

Hee hee hee! Many, many giggles over here!

Anonymous said...

Everytime you use that 'rock out with your cock out', I can't stop giggling like a pimply faced 13 year old boy.

I seriously had to stop laughing so hard just to type this.

(p.s. I love you too:))

Anonymous said...

I just stumbled upon your blog and I am dying laughing at this post! "tank top dudes" LMAO

Anonymous said...

I certainly wouldn't divorce my husband for wearing a tank top but we wouldn't be having sex for a few days, especially if the tank top was lime green mesh.

Angie said...

::hee:: I love Chick-Fil-A with all my heart, but if we see you guys at CFA with Jason in a tank top, that just might send me over the edge! :)

Dawn~a~Bon said...

OMG Scott closed out a document I was working on right before we left for vacation a few weeks ago - I only lost about 3 hours of work but I wept . . . SOBBED hysterically, and it delayed our leaving for vacation for another three hours . . . . I wasn't ready to divorce him so much as I was ready to jump out the window because I had to redo the pricing section which is the worst part . . . I really don't know how you didn't kill him, seriously. I hope the Ball Soup is fixed soon, it's way too damn hot around here not to have AC.

Stephanie said...

I don't think my husband owns a tank top, but he does own things he's had since high school. I threatened to throw them out while he's in Cuba, so he took them with him.

Jason, as himself said...

Just for the record, I happen to love tank tops. In the hot SoCal summer I wear them pretty much every day. And I don't have big arms, nor a tattoo to show off.

So sue me.

"Rock out with your cock out."

I like that even more than buttmunch.

Denise said...

cute

CPA Mom said...

That cracks me up. My husband will not wear tank tops outside the house either. Which I wish he would. HE looks GOOD in them.

We were just having a conversation last night about divorceable offenses and decided only infidelity was such an offense. And we are both too damn tired and broke to have an affair so we're safe!

Anonymous said...

P.S. I used to live next door to the couple who started Chick-Fil-A when I was a teenager. I think I may have even babysat for them once or twice. Or maybe that was the other neighbour. It was a long time ago.

Mrs. Booms said...

I would probably pass out if my Jason wore a tank top too.

Those Jason's are quirky beasts.

Kelly said...

That is so funny..BUT I totally empathize with him!! It has been so HOT here, even I have been wearing tank tops...and needless to say..I'm so not a tank top girl...and I'm 100% certain the public doesn't want to see me in a tank top either! Whatever...damn heat!

Amy W said...

hilarious!

SJINCO said...

I'm glad to see that you guys still have so much fun together. That's nice, isn't it? And funny too!

Rachel (Crazy-Is) said...

I have to say I am proud of you for not divorcing him. Very proud.