Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Coming Out of the Closet!

What kind of learner are you? Some people are auditory learners – they have to hear it. Some are kinesthetic learners – gotta move. Me? I tend to be a visual learner – I gotta see it. And, being as I’m a visual kinda gal, I tend to think that other people are visual learners also. So sometimes, when someone isn’t getting what I’m saying – well I gotta show ‘em….I gotta give ‘em a visual lesson.

Hmmm, I can hear you saying, “What kind of visual lesson, APj?

Not that kind of visual, you dirtyminded Rogues. Hmmm, let me think……Okay! Got it!


What the hell happened in the bedroom!?!?!?!?” I screamed down the hall to Mike, aka Voldemort.

Huh?” came the answer from the living room couch. Well, not actually from the couch; more from the lump-of-possibly-human-flesh on said couch. I say “possibly” because there was this new hunk of metal that appeared permanently melded to his hand, pointing towards the TV, and I didn’t remember my husband as having anything firm, hard, metal or hunky in his hand…..for a loooonnnng time.

What happened in the bedroom!?!?!?” I repeated, “It looks like a bomb exploded on my side of the closet – blowing all my clothes out!

Oh, quit having a cow! I got satellite TV, and they had to get into the attic to hook it up. Look at all these channels we can ge….” and the voice trailed off as his eyes glazed over. I started to ask again, but could tell that he was captured in the thrail of her web.

But meanwhile, back at the ranch – or actually, back in my bombed bedroom: every stitch of clothing I owned was crumpled in a heap on the floor. In his hurry to bond with his new lover, Sad E. Lite, Voldemort had hurriedly removed my clothes for easy access, and discarded them on the floor.
Honey! Aren’t you gonna help me put this back? I mean, come on! I’ve been working all da—“

Jesus H. Christ, Jayne! It’s no big f-ing deal! Quitcherbitchin!

No big deal?” I thought to myself, “my clothes are all over the floor, he’s making luv to Sad E Lite in my living room, and it’s no big deal?” I began to hang up the clothes, and with each hanger, I became…well, a little more enraged. –and logic doesn’t coexist with rage very well…….and, well, something kinda snapped.

No big deal?!?” I muttered aloud. “Humph! I’ll show him no big deal!” I casually strolled to his side of the closet.

I removed his clothing from the closet.
I carefully deposited his clothing in a neat, NOT crumpled pile, NOT heap, on the floor.
And I calmly crawled into bed, and went to sleep.

Of course, two hours later, when Voldemort and Sad E Lite were finished making love, Voldemort came to bed.
And discovered his clothing on the floor.
And went ballistic.

What the fuck? Jayne, what the fuck!?!? You’re fucking nuts! What the hell—“

Oh, come on honey,” I responded, sleepily, yet slyly, “ Quitcherbitchin! It’s really no big f-ing deal, right?”


lecram sinun said...


KFarmer said...

I like you style...

airplanejayne said...

Lecram --
yes, now you see my "dark side"

Kfarmer --
glad SOMEBODY likes my style, even though Voldemort decided he didn't....


Lelly said...

Way to go, AJp...way to go! Bet you are a great teacher!

jade ed girl said...

My goodness APj, what vocabulary!

Mustang said...

First Subject: Men and Remote Controls...

It is about power, control, authority and the simple fact that a remote control is more compliant than our significant others (ask Freud) and more reliable than our penis. It is far more acceptable to sit on the couch with the remote in your hand, whereas if you did this with your penis the aforementioned significant other would object, and the dog would consider alternative housing.

Men and Closets..

Discussing closet-issues violates at least three sections of the Manly Manual. No more can be said.

Clothes on Floor..gravity baby, it sucks!

And finally...the Theory of GMA...

OK, once per month women have PMS. Men however have GMA every single day. General Male Inadequacy..GMA..we never think our penis is big enough..so we need big watches, fast cars, satellite TV (ala NASA), nuclear barbieque grills, LOTS OF RED MEAT, and generally grunting, sweating and other things to simply prove that despite an innordinate amount of testosterone, we still suffer from GMA and must find ways to overcome IT.

As for APJ..at first there was that husky, dusky voice which sent us all running to some dark place to dream. Now we have that and potty mouth...ahhhh

APJ you rock!