So I finally got around to watching the first two episodes of Mad Men's Warehouse -- YEAH OBVIOUSLY EV, THAT'S WHY YOU'RE WRITING ABOUT IT -- two episodes that my wife claimed were "the greatest eps in Mad Men historyyyy!"
Frankly, I was expecting something super bonkers to happen, like Joan having sex with every Harlem Globetrotter, but noooooooooooooo, she was only on screen for like five minutes (five incredible minutes I might add). Don Drapes on the other hand had lots of airtime, had sex like three times, while also getting angry, taking his shirt off, and oh okay okay okay, I get why my wife thought they were the greatest eps ever, now. I get it. This makes total sense. Total, total sense. Nothing has ever made more sense. Ever.
My wife's crush on Jon Hamm / Don Drapes / any dude who's not me is getting outta control. Between Hamm's manly hairy chest, to him standing up for Joan, to his SNL performance with Michael Bublé. to his recent leaked dick pics, this guy is starting to have a major effect on my marriage. In fact, there was one mome during the second ep where I literally watched my wife's tits shoot out of her bra while we watched. It was when Don was out to dinner with the Freaks and Geeks lady (BY THE WAY, HOW BOUT FREAKS AND GEEKS LADY) and she was complaining about feeling guilty about their affair and whether or not she wanted to continue sleeping with him. And Don was like, all serious, "Oh, I understand. You want to feel miserable up until the moment when I tear your dress off. Because that's what going to happen."
My wife must've rewound and replayed that scene around 17 times.
ME: Dude, what are you doing?
DAR: Sorry, I couldn't hear what he said. The dishwasher is too loud.
ME: You're mouthing the words as he says them.
DAR: It helps me concentrate.
ME: I just received three emails to my PayPal account from Dilds.com.
DAR: That's funny, I haven't been to that site since ...
ME: It says you bought seven dilds.
DAR: They make really nice dilds.
ME: They really do.
DAR: They also make hand dilds.
|Honestly that looks like a very comfortable shirt.|
I mean, I get it. I get it. Don Drapes is manly. He has nice hands. He could probably open all sorts of jars. But aren't we supposed to hate him? I mean, he's a sick and disturbed and flawed man. Then again, maybe my wife is only attracted to sick, disturbed, flawed men. Geez, once again, this makes total sense. Writing this blog is like therapy. I've never seen life so clearly. Ever.
After the episode, my wife and I had a long and honest talk about cheating, and the best way to go about cheating in order to keep a relationship alive. (By the by, if I had to guess what percentage of relationships out there are unfaithful, I'd say 51%. Is that high? That seems high. Maybe that's low. Well, that's my guess.) And I was saying that I didn't want Megan to find out that Don was cheating. And I didn't want Trudy to find out that Pete was cheating (even though she knew all along). It's like, Megan loves her husband. Loves being married to Don. Loves life, loves smoking joints, loves fondue (FOR THE RECORD I ALSO LOVE FONDUE). So if Megan were to find out that Don was cheating, that would crush her! She would be devastated, her life flipped upside down, no more fondue parties! So what's the big deal with Don sniffin and diffin on the side? What you don't know, doesn't hurt you, right? Is that a saying? I think that's a saying. I honestly love fondue. I'm not afraid to shit my pants, guys. I'm totally not afraid.
I told my wife last night (point blizzank) that I would totally understand if she cheated on me one day. (CUE THE JOKES WHERE ALL OF YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND TOO. HA HA HA. OH YOU'RE SO FUNNY. YOU SHOULD START A BLOG, YOU KNOW THAT? SO YOU COULD WRITE ALL THESE JOKES DOWN. BLOGBLOG.BLOGBLOG. I'M PRETTY SURE THAT SITE IS STILL AVAILABLE.) Not that I want her to, or would be okay with it, but I would understand. I mean, life is long, lonnnnnggggggggggg duckkkkkkkkkk donnnnnggggggggggg, and temptations are tempting! (how's that for poetry?) and I don't think it means that anything is necessarily wrong with a relationship if a person chooses to be unfaithful. (Dar disagrees by the way.) And if my wife were to sleep with another dude (or woman! OR WOMAN!) I would definitely prefer it to be discreet and kept a secret from me. I wouldn't wanna know! Just do it, that's great, have your fun, but I like our relationship and like what we have together and hopefully I'd be okay with it even though I'd probably end up taking a revolver and shoving it down my throat and feeling the nice, cold, hard steel on my tonsils.
My wife on the other hand said that if I were to ever want to cheat -- AND I DON'T, HONEY, I DON'T -- that she would want me to tell her and see if we could come to some sort of an arrangement. Maybe we could, maybe we couldn't, but she feels as if it'd be respectful to at least be open and honest with her. Talk it out. (By the way, my wife LOVES talking things out.) But something tells me that wouldn't work. Here's how that conversashe would probably go:
ME: Hey honey, wanted to talk to you about something real quick.
DAR: Is it about your stupid fat face?
ME: Ummm, sort of? It's just, I was kinda thinking ...
DAR: I'll kill the bitch. What's her name?
ME: What? No. Calm down.
DAR: Oh, you want calm? You want a sister to be calm?
ME: No, no. I mean, yes. Please stay calm. I love calm. We talked about this years ago, remember? You told me to be open with you, and ...
DAR: It's that tall bitch that you work with, isn't it? The one with the hairy tits?
ME: What? No. I work with a chick with hairy tits?
DAR: I'm gonna chop her tits off. You ever seen anyone chop a person's tits off? 'Cuz I'm about to chop. How hairy are these tits?
ME: I dunno, they're probably like, normally hairy. Wait, what?
DAR: I'm gonna use the fucking knife that your ex-girlfriend gave us for our wedding. That's a good tit-carver. Would ya like that? Would you like that you fat Spanish slut?
ME: No. No. I wouldn't like that. I would not like that. What are we talking about? Why would I like that?
No idea where I'm going with this, by the way. No idea.
|That's the hottest old-ass lady I've ever seen |
and yes I know she's not real
please stop trying to ruin my fun.
So everyone cheats on this show, huh? And sometimes people get caught. And sometimes they don't. And sometimes people get hurt. And sometimes they don't. I mean, Trudy was hurt by Pete, but also probably relieved. Now she can get out of her relationship with that total shitbag. And Mr. Dr. Guy, whose wife is getting ABSOLUTELY MEGA-BOINKED by Don Drapes, maybe that's okay, because maybe he likes his wife, and she gets to have sex with some super hot manly guy with nice hands, while he gets to go to work and come home to a lady WHO STARRED IN FREAKS AND GEEKS OMG WHERE HAS SHE BEEN THE PAST 10 YEARS.
I dunno, guys, I dunno. I just know that as great as the last two episodes were, and as much as it started a dialogue between me and my wife and actually motivated me to write something for this blog that's been collecting dust for the past three weeks, I was still greatly disappointed that Joan only had FIVE STINKING MINUTES OF AIR TIME???
I MEAN, C'MON, MATTHEW WEINER.
AND IS IT WEENER OR WYNER? I THINK IT'S WEENER.
THOSE WERE AN AMAZING FIVE MINUTES THOUGH.
HOW IS THERE AN ACTUAL WOMAN BUILT LIKE THAT OUT THERE IN THE WORLD? IS SHE ON TWITTER? SHE MUST BE ON TWITTER. AND WHEN ARE SHE AND DON DRAPES GONNA BONE ALREADY???
I WANNA SEE HER TITS EXPLODE!
Last thing. Sally Drapes has turned into a real snot, hasn't she? I guess that's not surprising, though. I was riding the subway the other day when these two teenage snots got on the train and just started screaming stuff. They weren't even really screaming at anyone or anything, they were just screaming. I thought for sure they were gonna try and cut my tits off. Then they hopped off the train and started throwing rocks at things. These were real people. Real teenage people. They threw a rock at my window and then I started screaming. They seemed to be having the best time. This is my friend, Mr. Lizard Guy.