Stabbing Your Husband – An Unusual But Useful How-To Guide With 8 Easy Steps

  1. Start By Crying

It’s your husband, you’re planning on stabbing him in the back with a knife, unless you’re some sort of monster without feelings. you ought to be upset.

  1. Pick Up The Knife

It might be comforting to use your favourite kitchen knife. Also, your familiarity with this tool increases the odds that your stabbing will be successful.

  1. Close Your Eyes

What you’re about to do is terrible, it’s best not to look.

  1. Open Your Eyes

When you realize that you’re liable to stab at the air rather than your beloved if you keep your eyes closed.

  1. Prepare To Stab Your Partner

Then pull back at the last second because ultimately, you really really don’t want to sink a knife into their back.

  1. Try To Stab Your Husband Again

This only happens after some encouragement from your spouse and more crying

  1. Successfully Poke The Tip Of The Knife Ever So Gently Into Your Other Half’s Back

So lightly in fact that it doesn’t break the skin.

  1. Press Harder With The Knife Until You Stab Your Husband

This part may be accompanied by a turning of your stomach.

This actually happened – I totally stabbed my husband. Tex boasts many wonderful qualities and charms; the ability to jump off a rolling horse, a dashing head of thick hair with just enough salt in it and an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the properties of metals. However, he has extremely oily skin which often erupts into angry blemishes on his back.

A couple of months ago, one such blemish grew up and had a party with a whole bunch of bacteria, so it became giant and infected. Causing Tex to turn to me and say “You’ll have to lance this. It’s easy; I’ll go sterilize the paring knife” in that calm, confident way of his that convinces me to do things I otherwise wouldn’t, like mercilessly murder lobsters or shoot a gun. Tex then spent twenty minutes hunched underneath the best light in our apartment, trying to convince me that I was brave enough the stab him. I cried and resisted the entire time, it was like the lobsters all over again only thankfully no one died.

Addendum: For once Tex’s near eidetic memory failed him and when he saw what I was typing he said in a panicked tone “Are you mad at me? Can we find another way to solve this?”

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Taking Shots with Half Naked Men in Public

Wow, that title makes my life sound excessively sexy and exciting. Also possibly like a frat party. I should clarify; the shot in question was a flu vaccine. However, the half-naked man was NOT my husband and I did get in a bit of trouble for it.

Tex is all about prenatal care which was how I found myself at a flu vaccination clinic the other week. Normally I don’t patronize those types of places but not because I agree with Jenny McCarthy,

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No one should agree with this woman, she has a high school education, it’s like asking the kid serving you fries at McDonald’s how one should treat melanoma and then being surprised when the only suggestion offered is “More salt?” (Photo Credit : slate.com)

more because I am a first rate wimp. The world’s greatest wuss. More cowardly than the cowardly lion when it comes to needles or any item being stuck into my skin, this is unfortunate because pregnant women either receive needles or are poked with needles every other day it seems.

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I’m with you buddy, the world is a terrifying place, now hold still so I can use you as a shield to save myself from that phlebotomist. (Photo Credit: movieclips.com)

Previously, if forced to get a needle for any reason, I would situate myself next to a tearful looking toddler, shore up my courage and say to myself “I am braver than a two year old”. It works, sort of; course the whole process is far more effective if I excuse myself to perform muscle poses in the bathroom mirror beforehand.

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Arnold once made a needle cry, that’s how tough he is and thus, by virtue of flexing my bicep, I am therefore equally hardy and brave. (Photo Credit: fanpop.com)

So there I was waiting with a bunch of people whose spouses probably told them they were going out for fro-yo but ended up in a line to be responsible citizens instead, when suddenly there was no line. “You go first” I said to Tex. I may or may not have shoved my sweet husband towards the nearest, unoccupied registered nurse.

“You don’t need to wait, I’m free over here!” A cheerful, well-dressed woman called to me. My time had come, and there was no child around to compare myself to, all I had was a quickly growing ball of fear and panic. That was when the construction worker at the next station over started stripping. I was so distracted by the sudden appearance of a whole lot of skin that I sat down next to the nurse without any encouragement.

“Is he going to take it all off?” I asked the nurse. “Oh no, we tell them that we just need access to an arm but some guys just remove their shirts.” It wasn’t a toddler with a quivering lip, but it would do. I focused all of my attention on the construction worker’s bare back while the nurse tried to make small talk. “So how far along are you? Who did you come with?”

“Seven months and my husband, coming here was his idea- I wanted pop tarts sprinkled over frozen vanilla yogurt” I answered, still staring at the man’s back trying to imagine a circumstance where I would knowingly strip in public as opposed to all the times where I accidentally flashed the elders in church.

“Avert your eyes!” the nurse chastened me “You’re a married woman!” She said this while wielding a needle that she was about to plunge into my unsuspecting shoulder so I continued to focus all my attention on the impromptu Chippendale while explaining that I was the world’s largest suck and it was serving as my distraction.

The man stood to get dressed at the same as the nurse stuck a band aid to my arm. As he dressed and I followed Tex to the exit, I said a silent word of thanks for random half naked men. I’m fairly sure that doesn’t count as adultery, only wimpery.