Wife Imprisonment

6thOct. × ’09

I often wonder what it would be like to be married. To have that person you’re content with and slowly graduate through the ranks of coupledom. Going from not breaking wind in each other’s company, to brushing your teeth whilst they poo and discuss last night’s episode of the West Wing. I suspect you give up the occasional ecstatic highs for a more consistent baseline contentment, and I’m fine with that. It seems like a good deal really. Although sometimes I chat with the guys in the office and it makes me think twice.

Last night I stuck around for some after work drinks. We were highly conscious of being those people that meet up to pit our annoyances against each other. Much like a game of snap we were matching up identical grievances, sharing in the mutual frustrations of our day. Eventually Mark, a short deliberately British man whose life motto is ‘it’s never too early to start worrying’, insisted we stick to non-work related topics.

There was a heavy silence, dominated by the realisation that most of our life was woven from reports, unanswered voice mail and strategy meetings. Mark broke the quiet with the announcement of a game of golf he intended to play this weekend. He told us that all he had to do was finish up some of his ‘man chores’. I asked what constituted a ‘man chore’. Mark explained that for every man chore he finishes, his wife allocates a golf credit, get enough of those and he’s allowed to play a whole game of golf. Around the table you could audibly hear eyebrows raising, even those in wedlock were wide-eyed with disbelief. Mark just grinned back at us, looking awfully pleased with the number of credits he’s earned.

I asked “What else is in the jar?

Mark asked what jar I meant, to which I replied “The jar your wife keeps your testicles in

We all erupted into laughter, except for Mark. His only comment was that his wife didn’t like him to use the word testicles, instead he had to call them ‘knicker glands

Being ejected from a bar because you can’t stop spraying beer out your nose is oddly satisfying.

This entry was posted in Cubicle Musings and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.


  1. Dude
    Posted October 6, 2009 at 7:22 PM | Permalink

    Patently untrue. Your earlier posts verged on believable. I’m sorry, but you just jumped the shark. I hope I’m wrong.

  2. Mark
    Posted October 6, 2009 at 7:48 PM | Permalink

    Yeah, it’s not true. My balls are not in a jar!

  3. Mike
    Posted October 12, 2009 at 6:01 PM | Permalink

    haha bullshit Mark. I’ve seen the jar and it is tiny.

  4. WTF?
    Posted October 12, 2009 at 6:56 PM | Permalink

    Ok, for all your outing of the Lads Atmosphere at your work, it’s getting decidedly uncomfortable for female readers around here.

    Yes, haha, what a pack of cocks. But what’s being done about it?

  5. Abe
    Posted October 20, 2009 at 11:18 PM | Permalink

    Dude, lighten up!
    @ WTF, my gf reads the blog and, ‘ços she doesn’t take it too seriously it doesn’t make her at all uncomfortable..

    Keep up the funny sh!t frenchy

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *