I don’t believe in cold vacations.

Call me ignorant. Call me uneducated. Call me hard-headed. Call me what is that crazy-ass woman screaming about and who is Scott?

In four weeks, my crazy will be showing on top of a mountain.

Scott is taking me skiing in Keystone, Colorado. He will push me down a mountain and expect me to lean forward like I’m on some sort of suicide mission.

Scott’s current annoyance level with me is at a “fine, screw it. I’ll hire private lessons for you on the first day. I’m not dealing with this.”

Whatever level that is.

We took the family to Dick’s Sporting Goods to get snow skiing gear.

Kate: I know how to spell dicks! D-I-C-K-S! Dicks.

Emma: Kate, you’re just copying the Dicks sign.

It was Scott’s last laugh. I don’t know, the words just came spewing out of my mouth and now Scott isn’t talking to me:

 

Scott, I’ve never seen a mountain. I went to Denver once but it was cloudy.

I told you. I don’t believe in cold vacations. All of my beliefs are traced back to my parents. Don’t blame me on how I was raised.

My mom is Mexican.

I was raised normal, Scott.

What happens if I don’t want to get off the ski lift? Can I ride back down?

What happens if I don’t want to go down once I’m pushed off the lift?

Can I ride on someone’s back and close my eyes?

Can you pull me on a sled and close my eyes?

All I’m saying is I’d much rather be three quarters naked on a boat.

Yeah, well fighting a 200 pound fish is a workout too.

How many layers? How is this even considered a vacation?

I swear, if you take off with your friends and leave me on top of a mountain by myself, I will click off those skis and walk sideways down the mountain. I will find you and strangle you.

Given the choice of looking crazy or rolling down a mountain in a ball of snow, I’ll take crazy.

Oh, I’m only shopping for Burton apparel.

Yes, I plan on telling people that my last name is Burton so yes, people will know.

How is that embarrassing?

Hell no, I won’t try snowboarding. I’d rather walk.

What are the ski stick thingies for? Is it a brake?

Why would I need zippers on my pockets? Oh, so you take your phone with you when you ski? Would it be possible to hold a phone out in front of you while you’re skiing? Or is that too much balancing?

I went skiing once in 5th grade on a hill in Kansas or maybe Missouri. It’s called Snow Creek. My friend’s parents took me with their family. All I remember is cold and where’s my mommy.

Is Keystone like the cheap-y economy style skiing resort? You know, like the beer?

How am I acting like a child? Wait, worse than a child? Oh, because I’m arguing about scenarios that haven’t even happened. That makes complete sense.

Avalanches are a real thing.

Frost bite is a real thing.

Mountain lions are a real thing.

Me getting my tongue stuck on the bar of a lift is a real thing.

Uh, can totally see you sneaking off the side of the mountain to go shoot a mountain lion.

I’m not dumb. I’m just realistic.

Well, maybe I can hang with you and your friends on the double black diamond. You don’t know. Maybe I’ll be a natural.

Don’t tell me I’m not allowed on the double black diamond, Scott. You’re not my father.

Then send a helicopter.

Yes, I’ve seen pictures of people having fun skiing. And I feel sorry for them. They look cold.

How is preferring warm weather being judgy?

So it’s going to be the exact same temperature as here? Great.

No, I didn’t bring a coat. I don’t need it running in and out of a store.

So you just go up and down a mountain, like, all day? How about just once then we go see the town?

Yes, I still want to go.

Why would you cancel it?

I promise, Scott. I won’t be the crazy wife.

 

Have you ever been snow skiing? Do you prefer skiing over a warm vacation? Has your spouse quit talking to you because of your hard-headedness? Am I the only person to never see a mountain? Any advice is welcome! I’ll listen to you, just not Scott.

snow

You can be my wingman anytime.

Scott: How can I kiss you if you look like a man?

Me: I’m sorry I’m not as pretty as Tom Cruise, Scott.

You are welcome, Ladies

I, on the other hand, did NOT lose that lovin’ feeling with volleyball scene Ice Man. He’s mine, ladies. And gentlemen who like volleyball scene Ice Man.

We hit below freezing temperatures last night. I’m pleased with my decision to special order my jacket from some guy in England who makes replica Maverick jackets. It was expensive but warm. I am also pleased Scott doesn’t read my blog and will never know this information. Cheerio!

It was a bitter night in the ‘hood but the cul-de-sac home base upped the stakes this year.

The Halloween staples – candy for the kids and beer for the adults – were put in place.

We had whiskey for the crazies and for the one with exposed nipples.

The propane heater was roaring next to the fired up grill with hotdogs.

Beer too cold? Make yourself a coffee with Bailey’s!

The kids filed down in groups. The parents were right behind them. They danced to Thriller. Candy was thrown. It was a Halloween for the books.

It was the perfect Halloween until, “Hey! It’s Amelia Earhart! Great costume!”

And then I became a woman again.

The traditional morning after picture. Maverick only drinks from the best of the best coffee cup.

The traditional morning after picture. Maverick only drinks from the best of the best coffee cup. Oh look! So does Michael Jackson.

What did you do for Halloween? Did you dress up? Was it a cold night where you live too? Are you already thinking about what you are going to be next year? Only 365 left!

The selfish post.

I was left with a mind-boggling question. I still don’t know the answer to it.

It is confirmed that I’m the lamest person on earth.

This question was brought to Scott and me by our good friends, Danny and Christine.

Danny and Christine are somewhere over the Atlantic right now. They have 15 hours left on a plane since their last text message was sent to us around dinner time.

This picture will post before they even land. I hope I have their permission.

This picture will post Monday morning before they even land. I hope I have their permission.

 

They are flying to Johannesburg, South Africa. They are going on an African hunt trip. I told you we are good friends. What’s that saying? Birds of feather, flock together? Yeah, Scott wishes he was flocking with them on their 18 hour flight right now. Danny has his eyes on a baboon. Christine has her eyes on…well, I don’t know what Christine is doing there but I hope she takes a selfie with a lion.

One of our last conversations before they left –

“What would you do if you won the lottery? Not a few thousand dollars, but billions. Let’s say money is no longer a worry for you. You set aside money for the kids to live well. You set aside money for your families. How would you spoil yourself?”

I gave them a blank look.

Me: Oh. Um. Well, I have a laptop to write. I have books to read. I don’t have any other hobbies. Oh my gosh, who am I? Maybe start a publishing company?

Danny: You need a publisher? I know one.

Me: Oh! What? Well, really? That still doesn’t answer the question. Ummm…

I’ve been racking my brain. Am I human? Am I boring? Am I happy? Let me tell you, there has been some soul searching going on this weekend. I asked Scott again. Maybe he will find my answer.

Me: What did you say to Christine and Danny’s question? Buy hunting land?

Scott: I would buy hunting land in Kansas or Iowa as an investment.

Me: Investment?

Scott: And hunting purposes.

Me: If money didn’t matter, why would you need the investment?

Scott: The statistics show most lotto winners go bankrupt. I would have to prepare for that and make an investment. I would also buy you a house in the Keys.

Me: No, buying me a house is not a selfish reason. I’m talking about YOU. How would you spend money on just you.

Scott: Oh, ok. Hold on. Let me think…

Me: Really?

Scott: What? Is this a trick question?

Me: Nope. Go ahead.

Scott: I would start my own business of some sort.

Me: Money doesn’t matter! You would go back to work?

Scott: I would get bored. Maybe I would open a sports bar in Aggieville.

Me: Do you want your daughters going to K-State when their dad owns a bar in Aggieville?

Scott: Hm, yeah that might end bad. I would get a new truck, all jacked up. I know! I would make a sick hunting lodge for all my friends to use. I would build one in Kansas, Iowa, Florida, New Mexico. I would buy up elk tags too.

Me: (rolling my eyes)

Scott: This is a trick question. What do you want me to get you?

Me: I don’t know!  That’s what I’m trying to think of. Fishing boat?

Scott: Our friends have those. Why buy our own?

Me: To have our own crew? Hire a captain.

Scott: Nah, we can just bum off our friends.

Me: Hm. I’m out of ideas for me.

Scott: I would also get a motorcycle. And a boat.

Me: I just asked you if you would buy a boat!

Scott: No, like a lake fishing boat.

Me: Oh. Fresh water? Really? I’ll go fish in the Dominican with our friends while you sit on a lake in Kansas.

Scott: My house would have a 4 car garage and a tandem garage to the side.

Me: Whoa! You are just radiating testosterone right now, I think I’m growing a penis just sitting next to you.

Scott: I’d like to be a farmer.

Me: You mean to tell me if you were a billionaire, you would purchase land so you can farm it?

Scott: (laughing) You know, just have fun with a tractor on farm land.

Me: What? You would be a pretend farmer?

Scott: (laughing) This is a hard question!

Me: Well, I don’t know. You have quite the man-list here.

Scott: I told you! I would buy you a house in the Keys for you and all your girlfriends to hang out.

Me: Yeah, a house in the Keys would be cool but apparently I am already getting that from you. I would need a boat to fish from, nothing fancy. What is wrong with me? I don’t know how to spoil myself? I hate shopping. I do like to travel but buying a private jet is out because if a jet is going down, it’s always the small private jets. Nope.

Scott: You have serious problems.

Me: Wait, I got it! I would buy tickets to the Super Bowl every year. And every K-State game. College Football Championship tickets. Oh! And the World Series! There! There’s my answer – front row seats to every major sporting event. That’s how I would spoil myself. That’s a good answer, right? We would have fun!

Scott: You do know the Royals won’t play in every World Series.

Me: Yes, I know that, Scott. But I would still wear my Royals gear.

Scott: And my wife grew a penis.

Me: Take a selfie with a lion?

Scott: Oh, she’s back.

 

Your turn! How would you spoil yourself if you won billions of dollars? Be selfish. What are your hobbies? Would you still invest money if you didn’t have to worry about money anymore? If you had to fish with one of us – would you pick marlin fishing with me or bass fishing with Scott? 

lion

1985.

Scott: Wake up! Why do you keep falling asleep!

Me: Huh. What. Did they win?

Scott: IT’S GONE. IT’S GONE! BALL GAME.

Me: What happened.

Scott: Royals won. Go back to sleep.

Me: Ok, good. Good night.

 

1985.

Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” was released.

Back to the Future was showing in theaters.

Growing Pains and The Golden Girls made their TV debut.

Microsoft introduced Windows 1.0.

The Nintendo Entertainment System appeared on shelves in the U.S.

The Titanic was found on the bottom of the Atlantic.

My mom was pregnant with my brother.

I was 4 years old.

My sister had a case of the terrible twos.

My other sister didn’t exist. She was like the picture of Marty McFly’s sister on Back to the Future.

1985 was the last year the Kansas City Royals were in the playoffs.

In 1985, the Kansas City Royals won the World Series. They defeated the St. Louis Cardinals.

I don’t remember any of it.

Childhood amnesia blocked out the years 1981-1985. The only thing I remember about my life is in photographs. I don’t remember feeling my mom’s stomach kick. I don’t remember my sister’s terrible two meltdowns. I don’t remember moving into a new house that year. I don’t remember standing in a crowd of legs at the Royals World Series parade in Kansas City. I don’t remember blue confetti falling in my dark hair. I don’t remember.

But if I open the window on a cool fall night and turn the baseball announcers’ voices on low volume, I can relax. If I lay my head in a lap and that person runs their fingers through my hair – I will fall asleep. It’s like a drug.

The only thing missing is the pregnant belly near my head but everything else is the same.

That I do remember.

 

Are you just as shocked that the Kansas City Royals are in the playoffs? Do you think they will make it to the World Series? What is one of your earliest childhood memories involving professional sports? Does anyone have Royals tickets Scott and I can buy from you? I promise I won’t fall asleep at a live game.

royals

 

The big one.

Scott: Do you know how lucky you are be married to me? I take you to places like the Dominican Republic for our 10 year anniversary.

Me: Uh, do you know how lucky you are to be married to me? You have a wife that loves to fish. It’s not even a trip to the Dominican Republic to me. It’s a trip to the Atlantic Ocean.

This is the big one. The big fishing trip. Every fishing trip this year was practice for the Dominican. My confidence is up.  It has to be – I will have professional anglers yelling at me to keep the line tight. I’m expecting it. And I’m going to yell right back at them: I LOVE YOU TOO!  The yelling will be forgiven when we’re smiling for the cameras holding up a 400 pound blue marlin.

I’m totally Instagram’ing that.

They're all going to yell at me.

They’re all going to yell at me.

But it’s another big one. Today is our wedding anniversary. 1 decade. 10 years. 3,652 days of marriage.

3,652 days of marriage doesn’t sound like an important milestone. 1,000 days sounds important. Or maybe 5,000 days. A decade is a milestone and there should be a speech with that. Words from the bride, aged 10 years –

Out of 3,652 days, most days were good. And some days were not good. I have never baked a turkey on Thanksgiving. I sleep in as late as possible. I have been to known to ask Scott to do something repeatedly – you men refer to that as “nagging.” I am not the wife of the year.

I do know that day 3,649 sucked. Scott dragged me to a spinning class with him. I walked out of there convinced he was trying to give me a heart attack or fracture my butt bones.

Day 667 and day 1755 were life-changing days for both of us. But this post isn’t about becoming parents.

Like babies growing up, it’s impossible to see the change in a marriage day to day. If you look at us a decade ago, you’ll see it. We have wrinkles around the eyes when we laugh now. Scott doesn’t wear his wedding ring because he lost it. My hair color is not it’s natural color anymore. We’re going downhill together – holding each other’s wrinkly, paper-thin skin hands.

As a couple, we’re closer. Scott and I were complete opposites when we got married. Our wedding was proof that opposites attracted. Ten years ago, I didn’t know we would have to overcome that. Two opposites may attract but they won’t last in a home when one is squeaky clean and one drags bloody deer into the house. I am not as clean as I used be. I have accepted my forever young teenage son in the home.

We didn’t know babies would leave us emotionally drained at the end of the day. I remember Scott asking for his wife to come back in our sleep deprived days. The babies grew up. Now he has three girls begging for a Disney World “adventure.”

We have mastered the art of fighting. I know exactly what to say to send his blood pressure out the roof. He knows nothing will bother me more than his silent treatments.

But…we always come back to each other, like magnets. Our wedding day did prove that opposites attract.

The beauty of ten years is we know each other more than anyone else. We know what we like on our sandwiches without asking each other. We know each other’s likes and dislikes. They are filed away, never forgotten. Scott knows 3,652 days ago, I would have never agreed to a 5 day fishing trip.

I guess, like fishing, you don’t realize what you have until you fight to get it. Then yell, “I LOVE YOU TOO!”

I love you, Scott. And my marlin will be bigger than your marlin.

wedding

Two days until certain death.

Saturday, July 12, 2014. 10 AM, CST.

May Scott and I rest in peace.

I can’t live in Kansas City and not ride the world’s tallest water slide. It’s true – world’s tallest. They have pushed back the opening date of the slide for safety adjustments. It’s open, running and ready to send us flying to our watery death. Or maybe smacked into a tree. I need to check out the terrain.

It’s called the Verruckt. I have no idea how to pronounce it but they say it means “insane” in German.

Oh shit.

Oh crap in my pants.

A 168 feet, 7 inch drop. And at what foot marker do bikini tops go flying off?

Insane? I’ve been called worse. What’s German for “you-crazy-ass-voodoo-practicing-witch-I-haven’t-shot-my-deer-yet.”

Scott doesn’t want to do this. He’s not insane. He offered to stay with the kids at the bottom like a responsible adult.  ‘Til death do us part, SCOTT. We’re going together covered in each other’s pee. A couple friends have offered to sit at the pool bar and “cheers” us down. I hope in their drunken stupor they can catch my bikini top. It’s like the bouquet at a wedding. Who’s going to die next?

We’re totally filming this with our Go Pro camera.

Meet us there. Who’s IN?

 

This is probably my last blog post. Our will is on the bedside table.

I love you all.

 

What is the craziest thing you have ever done? It’s not the craziest thing I’ve done but it’s up there – WAY up there. Would you ride the Verruckt? 

photo-29 blog

I trust you with my iPhone while I’m gone.

I will not be posting a Monday post next week.

I’ll be floating on a noodle off the Florida Keys with a cocktail in hand. Or I will be in a boat putting up the big fight against a trophy Mahi. The fishing reports are excellent.

I trust you guys to watch over my blog until I get back. Make yourself at home. Snoop around. Oh, here. These should keep you entertained – my iPhone pictures. Have fun!

 

I think Siri does autocorrects. She's a funny one.

I think Siri is behind the autocorrects. She’s a funny one.

 

Tina is on the short list.

Tina is on the short list.

 

The funniest thing about this picture is I was holding a treat because the dogs wouldn't smile for my picture. I put the treat away after I got my shot.

The funniest thing about this picture is I was holding a treat because the dogs wouldn’t smile for my picture. I put the treat away after I got my shot.

 

Oh, hey. How did that get there?

Oh, hey. How did that get there?

 

I don't live a glamorous life.

I don’t live a glamorous life.

 

This is a real thing.

This is a real camping thing.

 

How sweet. A Mother's Day card.

How sweet. A Mother’s Day card.

 

She knows her mother too well.

The fine print never lies.

 

That's funny. They printed it upside down!

That’s funny. They printed it upside down.

 

Ok! Ok! I'll stop the trash talk. Geez.

Ok! Ok! I’ll stop the trash talk. I start twitching when football season gets close.

 

Do I really have a wild look to me?

Do I really have a wild Indian look to me?

 

That adorable niece of mine.

That adorable niece of mine.

 

He's so cool.

He’s so cool.

 

Please invite me to your White Elephant Christmas party. Please.

Please invite me to your White Elephant Christmas party. Please.

 

Why take a car when you can take a lawn mower down city streets?

Why take a car when you can take a lawn mower down the ‘hood streets?

 

One of my biggest parenting decisions is to introduce Emma to her own iPod with text messaging.

One of my biggest parenting mistakes is giving Emma her own iPod with text messaging.

 

Sometimes Pinterest pins tell it the best.

Sometimes Pinterest tells it best.

 

Belle

Babies can sense danger.

 

Too old

I’m still too old for Bachelorette parties.

 

What would YOU do?

I mean, what would YOU do?

 

 

Solo parenting.

The thing with being married to Scott is he is not home often.

Scott has a job that requires a lot of travel. I can’t complain. He is good at what he does.

He also has a pretend job, called I-think-I’m-single-and-have-no-kids-so-I’m-going-to-sit-in-a-treestand-all-day. Some would call hunting and fishing a hobby. This is not Scott’s hobby. Scott is a full-time professional hunter and fisherman. He’s just not paid for it.

These two full time jobs leave me alone with the kids a lot. Solo parenting is a lot of work. It’s not fun.

Oh, but sometimes it is. 

8s1yb

Hey did you guys know you can make your own gifs?

8taw0

 

The only time Scott is needed is the 6 pm to bedtime time slot. I get the kids fed. I entertain them. I break up fights. I pull my hair out. I help them with homework. I give them baths. I growl at the words “cold lunch.” Teeth are brushed and flossed.

Those kids are in bed by 7:50 pm when I’m solo parenting. There’s no daddy around to rile them up. It’s time to unwind with mommy and classical music with a touch of lavender. The sun hasn’t even set by the time they’re asleep.

8swbr

And once the kids are down, I’m a free woman. No husband. No kids.

8sw73

 

It’s the one part of the day that I get to be me. Whoever that is. There are no interruptions. I fall asleep my way – the bedroom lights are on, books are tabbed and tossed on the bed, the laptop is open and playing movie scores, an empty ice cream cup is within my arm’s length. My favorite part is I don’t have to kick legs back over to his side.

I mean, ok. Yeah. Scott is missed. He’s not here to talk to. He’s not here to make the girls and me laugh. I miss him rubbing my back in bed, hoping to get some. He won’t. Not unless he can get this cork out of this bottle of wine for me.
8swhz

Oh! Got it. Too bad you’re gone, Scott. Totally would have got some.

8sws1

Without this ring.

DOOMED.

A lost wedding ring.

The old wives say bad fortune is in your future. You might as well be looking for your happy marriage at the bottom of that murky lake.

Superstitious or not, losing a ring will set off panic. Never in your life have you prayed for time to go backwards. For just a few seconds, God. Please. A tiny bit. It was right. here.

And then it’s gone.

That split second can happen all kinds of ways. I polled my Facebook friends. Hey, I do more than stalk on Facebook. I got the party started with this question –

“For those of you (or your spouse) that have lost your wedding ring – how did you lose it?”
  • It fell off my husband’s finger into the ocean. It was the first day of our honeymoon.
  • My husband gave the ring to our girls to play with. Been gone ever since.
  • He lost it in training and his 2nd one got lost while he was deployed.
  • It’s at the bottom of Table Rock Lake. It fell off while cleaning catfish.
  • My husband lost his in the snow, it slid right off. I lost mine after my 2-year-old took it. It was never seen again.
  • I have a nervous tick and I play with it on my finger. I spent hours looking for it in a parking lot.
  • My husband lost another man’s wedding ring. We were at a triathlon and my husband offered to hold a friend’s ring while he did the swim event. My husband went to pull in the buoys out of the water and the ring slipped into the water.
  • Husband lost his in the bottom of a river while canoeing, trying to save another couple from distress. 2nd one in Applebee’s bathroom. I will have to ask about 3rd and 4th rings.
  • Softball field, never found it.
  • Public restroom. Unfortunately, no one turned it in.
  • He threw it in the trash after washing his hands at work.
  • Thought it was lost forever but found it in the laundry basket.
  • Cat knocked it down the sink drain.
  • Workout bag had a hole in the pocket.
  • Divorce
  • Somewhere in our old house. I would love to blame my kids, for that I’m convinced a toddler misplaced it.
  • In the pasture behind our house.
  • Spinning it on the table at “Shot Stop” in Aggieville. It fell between a crack in the wall and the floor. Next time they tear down that bar, I’m going to go get it.
  • Stuck under my bathroom scale.
  • I throw it off in my sleep, but I always find it.
  • Fell out of my pocket while golfing. Luckily, I was with my father-in-law.
  • A beach in Mexico. I was getting a massage and left it in the hut on the counter.
  • Solution: Get the wedding ring tattooed on. (Brilliant, Serena. Brilliant.)

Whoa.

The responses to my research were immediate. I was expecting a handful of men to respond. Instead, my Facebook page turned into a confession box with a line out the door. Men and women. What surprised me the most was how lighthearted everyone felt about their missing symbol of infinite love. There were no sad stories. No said they felt bad. They were sharing a war stories. They survived and could tell the tale.

These people have found the secret – marriage isn’t a sealed deal until one of you lose a wedding ring. Only then you are golden. Oh, and that crap about your ring finger having a vein in it leading straight to your heart is a lie.

Scott lost his ring. We’re in.

You won’t find Scott’s response above. Scott couldn’t respond to my Facebook poll because Scott has no clue where he lost his ring. He left the house with his wedding ring on. He crawled into bed without his wedding ring on. He swore he didn’t take it off. It’s gone. It has been missing for a few weeks now. Stop it, ladies. He’s taken. But you can look at his cute butt.

We will replace the original ring. Maybe we’ll let our daughters help pick out a new ring. We’re not in a rush. We don’t need a ring to prove to the world that we’re married. That’s what a marriage certificate is for.

Oh, wait. Yeah, we lost that like 8 years ago.

DOOMED.

Where did you go?

Goodbye, wedding ring.

Have you or your spouse ever lost a wedding ring? Did you find it or is it lost forever? Have you ever lost anything with sentimental value?

The jockstrap.

Scott doesn’t read my blog.

I know, it’s a little surprising. He will read a post if I ask him to read it. He will also read a post if it gets a lot of attention from his friends on Facebook. His response to not reading my blog is,

“I live the blog.”

Scott won’t read this post.

You guys, he wears lingerie clips when he plays hockey.

Not Scott but it could be.

This is not Scott but it could be.

 

I was laying in bed with Scott last night. We were watching baseball. My eyes fell to the cute pitcher’s butt. I mean, it’s like right there.

Hm. I wonder if baseball players wear jockstraps? I can’t tell from the TV. I should ask Scott. Wait. Don’t ask Scott. He’ll think you’re dumb. They’d have to wear them. The flying ball might hit the hanging balls. Right?

Me: Do you have a jockstrap?

Scott: Yeah, it’s in my hockey bag.

Me: Can I see it?

Scott: What?

Me: I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.

Scott: It’s a piece of plastic.

Me: Go get it.

Scott: No! It smells like hockey gear.

Me: You don’t wash your jockstrap?

Scott: I don’t know. Yeah, I’m sure it’s been washed.

Me: Does it cover everything hanging? Like all cupped up in a ball of plastic?

Scott: (raises his eyebrows) Are you serious? I slip the plastic piece inside the strap and it covers everything.

Me: Doesn’t it, like, chafe? That can’t be comfortable.

Scott: No, it doesn’t really chafe. It’s not the most comfortable thing.

Me: If I were a guy, I would just go without it. That’s got to be annoying.

Scott: If you were a guy, you would be wearing one if you knew what a blow to the balls feels like.

Me: Are there sizes?

Scott: Yes.

Me: And….

Scott: …….

Me: May I ask what size you are?

Scott: I don’t know, it’s based on underwear size.

Me: So like a medium.

Scott: MEDIUM?!

Me: LARGE! Sorry, large. I forgot you’re a large. So you wear a large size jockstrap. Is that the biggest one?

Scott: I’m done talking to you.

Me: Wait, wait. I don’t know these things! I’m a girl. I’m fascinated. We don’t have sons. I’ll never know. How does it stay there? You’d have to have a thong for it to stay down over the balls.

Scott: No. I don’t have a string up my butt. I put my legs through the straps and it sits on my hips.

Me: I’m so confused. Go get it.

Scott: No. You can go in the garage and get my hockey bag off the wall if you want to see it.

Me: Don’t make me google image search this.

Scott: Ok. It has a waist band, the straps go here on my hips to hold it up. There’s a slip here to put the plastic cup in. My socks that hold my shin guards go up over my knee. I clip the straps to the socks.

Me: STOP. You clip straps to the socks?

Scott: Yes.

Me: You mean tell me you wear those bra strap looking things on your legs? Like when you see a woman in full lingerie. Those clips that hold the panty hose up. The clips that men drool over.

Scott: I’m sorry. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen lingerie so I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Me: You know exactly what I’m talking about. I didn’t know they made lingerie clips for hockey players! HA!

Scott: What are you laughing at?

Me: All those hockey players wear lingerie straps! This just puts whole new perspective on the fighting. Don’t you feel sexy throwing punches? Hey, these are kinda hot.

Scott: What are you doing?

Me: Google image search.

Scott: Is this a porn site?

Me: No, it’s google image search: jockstrap. This is what shows up. Where’s the sexy clips?

Scott: You’re going to get viruses on your computer.

Me: It’s a google image search! Maybe I’m looking for a new jockstrap for my husband or son. Google doesn’t know why I’m googling jockstraps. Oh, wait. They have a separate section for hockey jockstraps. Ah, here we go. Oooo sexy clips for the hockey playa. You men. You want women to dress in these yet here you are wearing them with other men.

Scott: It’s a JOCKSTRAP. MEN WEAR JOCKSTRAPS. I’m going to bed.

Me: Wait, do baseball players wear them?

Scott: Good night.