Category: Making fun of Liam (or myself)

Why Halloween Is a Nightmare on Elm Street for Introverts

by Jen Barry, posted in Making fun of Liam (or myself)

Someone just asked me what we plan to do this evening for Halloween, and my knee-jerk reaction was “Turn off the porch lights, lock the door, and pretend we aren’t home.” I have nothing against Halloween, or kids, or giving away candy. When I was a kid, I didn’t take issue with getting free candy. I just rarely take part in the whole giving/taking free candy, and for one very good reason: I’m an introvert.

The Three Times I Remember Trick-or-Treating

Aside from a ridiculous blitz of my neighborhood as a senior in high school and a scavenger hunt in college, I stopped knocking on people’s doors for free candy at a pretty young age. What I do remember about Halloween went a little something like this:

Age 6

“Well, hello there! And what is your Halloween costume this year?”

“I’m a cat.”
“Are you now? Can you meow for me like a cat?”

“No.”

Age 7

“Oooh, and what is this cute rock star doing at my door?”

“Trick or treat.” (Shakes bag of candy meaningfully and stares over shoulder at Mom.)

Age 8

“Well, this is a creative costume! Did you make it yourself?”

“Yes.”

“And did Mommy and Daddy help?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you want some candy, huh?”

“Yes.”

I’m sure I went along with my sister and little friends to houses around town after that, but the story was always the same. I didn’t want to show off or do twirls. I didn’t want to explain my costume, which should have been obvious, anyway. I just wanted to grab my candy and go.

The One Time I Remember Passing Out Candy

As an adult, I got excited about the first Halloween when I’d hand out candy. Surely this would be different, right? I bought piles of it, ready to pass out to kids in the neighborhood, excited to see all the costumes and watch their faces light up when I gave them the good stuff.

Darkness crept in, and I turned on the front porch light. I sat on the couch, waiting for the doorbell to ring. With each passing minute, my stomach squirmed more. I was excited! Or scared? Yeah, maybe scared.

Finally, someone knocked, and I jumped to my feet. When I pulled open the door, a huge group of kids stood with bags and buckets at the ready.

“Trick or treat!” they chorused.

“Hi!” I said.

“I’m a lion!”

“I’m a tiger!”

“I’m a bear!”

Oh, my. I had no idea what to say. Each kid took his turn explaining his costume. Parents huddled at the end of the sidewalk, watching the whole interaction with expectant faces.

“That’s…nice. Here’s your candy.”

I waved, shut the door, turned off the porch light, and spent the next two weeks eating candy.

And then a married a guy just like me. So, that’s why we’re not doing anything. We’ll turn on a scary movie, or maybe just a rerun of Criminal Minds. We’ll leave the door shut, the lights off, and shush the dog if someone dares to knock anyway.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Get Your Own Tiramisu

by Jen Barry, posted in Making fun of Liam (or myself)

small_4473583479So, it’s been a while, and the last blog I left you with was a cheering of sorts in the middle of a rough winter. But spring is finally here…kind of. The weird snow we’re supposed to get tonight that probably won’t actually happen anyway is just a little hiccup standing in the way of the flowers blooming this coming weekend. To get us through this little cold snap, I’m back with probably the funniest Liam story ever. Maybe. You be the judge.

Because of Liam’s work position, he often gets treated to lunches and dinners. Sometimes he has to listen to a sales pitch; sometimes it’s a presentation. I’ve been to a few with him, and the room is often filled with dozens of other IT professionals chowing down on free food. If he’s lucky, it’s a one-on-one meeting, but that wasn’t the case today. Today, a whole room watched this unfold.

When he arrived at Maggiano’s, Liam was escorted to a table set for eight. Only four turned up for lunch. The food set aside for all eight was instead distributed to the four, resulting in some pretty large portions. Liam said he did his best, but he really wanted to save room for the tiramisu.

They finally set the dessert dish down next to him. He picked up his fork and went to town, eyes never leaving the screen that showed the presentation.

After a few bites, he noticed the guy next to him reaching over with a fork to get a bite.

“What’s this guy think he’s doing? He needs to eat his own.” Liam dragged the bowl away and shot a glare in the thief’s general direction.

And that’s when he saw it: Everyone else in the room dishing the tiramisu from several large bowls onto individual plates. Sharing. Sharing the dessert. The dessert he’d just nearly growled at someone over.

Now, I’d have burst into flames of embarrassment and run from the restaurant without a glance back. Liam, however, has agreed to let me share this story with you because he’s awesome. And because I haven’t stopped laughing for about two hours.

Happy spring!

photo credit: VancityAllie via photopin cc

A Night Out with the Barrys

by Jen Barry, posted in Making fun of Liam (or myself)

Or, a Reality Show without Cameras

pomodoro eastWe’ve tried a few times to get into Pomodoro East but have never been able to find a parking spot. Seems the best time to go is Monday night. Tonight was the night for some serious pasta—or pizza in Liam’s case.

As you might imagine, most dinners out end in giggles on my part, but sometimes the conversation is just too funny not to share. Tonight’s episode was one of those times. We scoured the menu, flinging jabs at each other about food choices.

“Here’s a huge steak. That sounds about right for you.”

“I bet you want this girlie salad thing.”

We settled on vegetable lasagna for me, and roasted chicken pizza with mushrooms for Liam. Before I delve into the conversation, let me state for the record that the lasagna was absolutely delicious. Nothing that follows is meant to harm the reputation of Pomodoro East or their delicious vegetable lasagna in any way.

Now, on with the show.

I noticed Liam pulling the crust off the pizza and leaving the good stuff on his plate. Concerned, I asked, “Is the chicken on that pizza good?”

“Yeah, but I’m off mushrooms.”

Boggled, I replied, “The menu said there’d be mushrooms. Didn’t you read that part?”

“I’m eating everything but the mushrooms. Calm down, woman.”

“Why don’t you just pick the mushrooms off instead of tearing the whole thing apart?”

“The crust is amazing. The chicken is good, but it sucks compared to this crust. I don’t even like crust. How’s your lasagna? Does it have chicken in it?”

“It’s vegetable lasagna.”

He froze, torn pizza hovering over his plate. “No meat? How can you eat lasagna with no meat?”

“It’s really good; don’t worry.”

“You should send it back. Who makes lasagna with no meat in it? Not even a little bit?”

“I can’t send it back just because it has no meat, babe. I ordered vegetable lasagna. I knew what I was getting.”

He thought for a minute, obviously trying to work around the whole “get what you ask for thing.”

“You should tell them it’s broken. I’ll tell them. We’ll get you a real lasagna.”

After looking around the restaurant for the server with no luck, he just called out, “Excuse me. My wife’s lasagna is broken. We require a new one with meat in it, please.”

“Stop that,” I hissed. “It’s really good. I don’t need the meat to have a meal, you goof.”

He stared at the half-eaten food on my plate and shook his head. “It’s just a salad. A warm, cheesy salad. Gross.”

Marital Feng Shui

by Jen Barry, posted in Making fun of Liam (or myself)

Or, Why We Need to Remodel Our Bathroom STAT

So, I got an office job. I’m still writing; I just do it while sitting around a table with a team of other writers. Because of this change in my life, I now have to make myself presentable each morning. It sounds like a normal thing. Lots of other couples in the world wake up at the same time and manage to get ready for work every day.

Why is this a problem in my house?

Now, to be fair, our bathroom is kind of small. Because our house was built before 1900, the master and guest baths were kind of…afterthoughts. Indoor outhouses, if you will. Still, I don’t need much room to put on deodorant or throw my hair up into a clip. For some reason, however, these five seconds I need during Liam’s bathroom time start World War III every morning.

On one particular day, my need for a bit of hair gel prompted a diatribe about how it was time to rearrange the furniture in our bedroom to promote better flow. For some reason, he believes this will give us more space in the bathroom. Male logic. I don’t get it. He is convinced, however, that moving the bed will make his life easier. A bit of marital feng shui, I suppose.

Personally, I think a bit of patience could solve the issue, but by all means, let’s move the bed. I don’t have enough patience for his impatience.

Hypochondriac by Grey’s Anatomy

by Jen Barry, posted in Making fun of Liam (or myself)

Liam and I somehow missed the Grey’s Anatomy train the first time around, so we’ve spent the last several weeks catching up on over 150 episodes on that amazing thing called Netflix. Yes, the Roku box is held in high regard in our household, just after beer and the cats…and the remote control. There’s some serious entertainment value in the crazy lives of these doctors, who, as the show says, are like high schoolers with scalpels. I mean, seriously. If I thought for one moment that doctors were really like that, I’d never again visit the hospital. Fortunately, my mother, who has been a nurse for…a really long time (I know better than to give the number of years—you’re welcome, Mom), set me straight on how a hospital really works.

The real entertainment value, as you might guess, comes in the form of my husband. Liam becomes convinced he’s got a new and life-threatening disease after almost every show. The only cases in Seattle Grace that Liam is sure he doesn’t have are the orthopedics, and that’s only because he just has to look down to see his leg isn’t broken. Everything else in the show is fair game. Heart attack? Liam’s having one. Stroke? Well, that one’s actually likely someday. Lupus? Oh, yeah. House told us it’s never lupus, so we’re good there. But seriously, everything else on that show, Liam is certain he’s got it.

By far, the funniest story is as follows: Liam has suffered some annoying, itchy bumps on his legs and arms. I started spraying him down with bug spray every time he even thought about opening the front door, and still he kept getting these itchy bumps. I didn’t have the same problem, so we just couldn’t figure out where he was getting them. Then, in one episode of Grey’s Anatomy, a character developed chicken pox. OMG! Liam finally had a diagnosis for his bumps! It had to be chicken pox. I just asked one question to verify it was indeed NOT chicken pox. Any guesses? Yeah. Liam had chicken pox when he was a little boy. It was a pretty bad case, too, so no, he did not have chicken pox.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I ran out of dryer sheets and ran several loads without them. Amazingly, his bumps went away. Did he come to the conclusion that you all just came to? No. His conclusion was that the chicken pox went away. And when he found a towel that had been through the dryer with the softener sheets and the bumps came back, he was again convinced that something was wrong with him.

Let’s all tell him together, shall we? Liam, you’re allergic to Downy dryer sheets. That’s your diagnosis. Of course, we all know he won’t believe it until someone on Grey’s Anatomy is diagnosed with an allergy to dryer sheets, but I’ll keep working on it.