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Let me say this about that.

Why in the hell would you ever marry someone you don’t trust?  I have no clue, but seems a lot of folks DO consciously choose to spend the rest of their lives with a mate they wouldn’t leave alone in the same room with Mother Teresa.  Sometimes the lack of trust is justified, sometimes not.

When I was working on the Space Program in the early 70′s, there was a guy in the labs that was insanely jealous of his wife.  Why?   None of us could ever understand because this lady had a body shaped like a Zeppelin hanger and a face that looked like someone had put makeup on an…    old elephant scrotum.   But, Arland thought she hung the moon and he was going to keep a close eye on his prize.

One day the phone ran at work, and it was Arland’s wife, Lonna.  He spoke for a few seconds, then ran out of the lab like it was on fire.  A few hours later, he came back and we asked him if everything was alright.  He said everything was OK, but an appliance repairman was at the front door and Arland had given Lonna instructions that no man would be allowed in the house unless he was present.  Unbelievable!

Me and the guys decided Arland needed therapy – our brand of therapy. 

Arland was a creature of habit.  He arrived at work every morning at 7:30am – drank exactly 2 cups of coffee – went to the exact same crapper at exactly at 9:00am, and departed for home at exactly 5:00pm.  Early one morning, one of our band of deviants went into Arland’s bathroom stall and wrote the following message on the back of the door:

“I am too hot for my hubby and have a hole in my sex life that needs to be filled.  Call 555-1234 if you are the real man I’m looking for.  IMPORTANT : call ONLY between 7:30am and 5:00pm.”

I don’t have to tell you what Arland’s home phone number was.  That morning at exactly 9:00am, a sound came out of the bathroom that sounded like someone was choking a cat.  Arland ran into the lab, grabbed his car keys, and disappeared for 3 days.  By 9:15, all trace of the offending message was removed.  As for Arland, he never kept the same routine again.

When my wife and I were dating in the late 70′s, we met a couple at a club one night and enjoyed a nice conversation and a few drinks.  The guy, who was older than his date, said that they were having a bit of a celebration:

Shambo:  “That’s great.  What are you guys celebrating?”

Guy:  “My divorce just became final.”

Guy’s date:  “And, he asked me to marry him.”

Shambo: “WOW, a lot to celebrate in one sitting.  I hope the divorce wasn’t too ugly.”

Guy:  “Ugly as a bag of baboon butts.  Ya see, I got caught with my fiance.”

Shambo:  “Bummer Dude, how’d that happen.”

Guy:   “Well, I had a romantic weekend planned for my fiance and I at a beach resort, but I told my wife I was going fishing with the guys.  I wanted to look good for my honey, so I asked my wife to pack my red silk pajamas for me along with my fishing stuff.  When my girlfriend and I got to the resort, there were no red silk PJs.  When I  got home I asked my wife why she didn’t pack my pajamas.  She said that she did pack them.  I told her I completely unpacked the suitcase and there were no pajamas.  She said  “I packed them in your tackle box”.   Busted!”

And, that’s all I have to say about that.

Shambo