“Um,” Tom began. He scratched his arm. I can almost bet he was thinking, “Now how can I put this delicately...” Actually, in Man Mind he was probably thinking, “How can I say this so I can still get laid tonight?”
“Spaghetti? Lasagna. I can also make chicken really well,” I continued.
Tom still looked uncomfortable. “The thing is...maybe we could go out for my birthday?”
Which is his polite way of saying, “Your food tastes like feet, please don’t make me eat it on my special day.”
And okay, not EVERYTHING I make is bad. But I could understand why he wanted to go out. Plus, it meant I didn’t have to clean up afterwards. So it was a win win situation.
“Okay,” I agreed and Tom visibly relaxed.
“We can go to Chilis,” Tom said, licking his lips. He loves Chilis. He’d live in Chilis if it were legal. He’s obsessed with their queso. (I am not. I think their queso tastes like BURNT gross cheese.)
Do you want to know what I bought Tom for his birthday?
An iPod Touch.
Was I able to keep it a secret from Tom until his birthday?
No.
But that’s Tom’s fault.
Last month he informed me that his iPod broke.
“So I’m buying a new one.” He wouldn’t meet my eye. He was acting as though he were one of those men who can announce something and have their wives be all, “Oh, anything you want, Head of the Household!” First of all....head of the household, my foot. Whenever I hear a man being called that, I laugh. I can’t help it. Then I want to add, “How very 1954 of you.”
“You most certainly are not buying a new iPod,” I told Tom. It wasn’t because of the price. It was because I had already decided that I was getting him an iPod Touch and wanted it to be a SURPRISE.
“Yes, I am.” Tom tried to say this firmly but his voice faltered.
“You aren’t,” I replied sweetly. “No. Sorry.” Then I switched on the vacuum. I imagine Tom was seething on the couch. I wouldn’t know for sure. But then he suddenly unplugged the vacuum and was all, “Now see here, woman…” No, I’m kidding, he didn’t say that. But he might as well have. Because he said, “Look, I work hard from my money and I deserve an iPod. So I’m getting one.”
“Fine, you buy an iPod and see what happens,” I said meanly. I gave him my Scary Wife Look and he shrunk back.
“I will,” Tom said. He lifted his neck, trying to act as though he were this big and strong man who could do as he pleased—but he looked terribly uneasy, as though he were at a fancy party and was trying desperately to hold in a fart.
“You just see what happens,” I repeated. I must’ve looked suspicious because Tom pointed and was all, “Hey. You’re hiding something.” I should mention that I am a terrible liar.
“I’m hiding nothing,” I insisted, but by then I was smiling, which is something I do when I’ve been caught in a lie.
Tom’s face lit up. “Wait a minute…did you get me an iPod?”
I pretended to be really interested in the vacuum. “Of course not.”
“Yes, you did! I can tell!”
“What’s that on the ceiling?”
“Stop trying to distract me. You got me an iPod! Can I have it now?”
I scowled. “No, you can’t have it now.”
Tom’s eyes got all big. “Aha! I knew it! Just give it to me now!”
But I held off. Until next week, and then I finally gave in because he wouldn’t SHUT UP about the iPod. Something about not being able to work out because he HAD to have music and did I know what it was like to work out without music (no, because I don’t work out). I felt bad so I handed the iPod Touch over.
So on his actual birthday, today, all he got was a card:
Funny, of course. We rarely do the sweet sappy ones.
And he got Avatar.
Plus I got him an amusing cake at Wal-Mart, which I have to pick up later. No, I didn’t make him one. I mean, I suppose I could have but he requested a store bought cake. I’ll post a photo of the cake in a future entry.
Happy Twenty-Eighth Birthday, Tom. Enjoy your iPod Touch. Now I want one.
In other news, the kind people of Beach Bags sent me this bag to review. Their website has so many bags to choose from.
(I'm also a fan of this one:
)I love the bag that I got and am impressed. It’s well made and I definately plan to use it when I go to the beach this summer. I love how it has my name stitched on it, too. That way if someone on the beach tries to steal my stuff (hmph!) I can be all, "Erm, that's MY bag because you see, that's MY name on it." (Unless their name happens to be Amber too, which would suck..)
(And bonus, the bag is environmentally friendly!)
I am able to hold tons of stuff in it, which is a plus because my kids sometimes want to bring all their toys down to the beach. Plus I can stuff a large t-shirt in it for me just in case all the women on the beach are size 0s with flat tummies. I can also bring my Little Debbie snacks which basically is the reason why I’m not a size 0 with a flat tummy.
Oh well.
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