Hot and Cold

Me: "God, it's hot." Alison: "I'm cold."

This could be a deal-breaker.

How is She Still Alive?

I've just learned that my lovely and intelligent bride is entirely incapable of flipping a coin. She had to do it repeatedly today as part of her TA gig, and it apparently went rather poorly. She gave me a demonstration of her "technique" this evening, and she nearly had to administer oxygen to me after the laughing fit that ensued. Please, the next time you see her, ask her to repeat the demonstration for you. Just be sure that you aren't eating at the time. I only hope the Maryland Motor Vehicle Administration doesn't see her attempting this "feat," or they'll surely revoke her license to drive.

Apparently, in the same class, she needed to open a Venetian blind to let some light in. When she pulled the cord, the entire blind came right off the wall. Maybe she should lay off the CrossFit for a bit.

She told me, "I'm sure [my adviser] thought I was a spaz, but I really wasn't doing it on purpose." When I explained to her that a klutz wouldn't do it purposefully either, she replied, "So Elizabeth correctly thought I was a spaz." Yes, correctly.

I realize that I'm not the most athletic person in the world, but for crying out loud! I think this could be a deal-breaker.

You Creep Me Out, Dear

Those of you who are our friends in meatspace may be aware that Alison once considered a career in forensics. It's not surprising, therefore, that she often enjoys watching forensics-centric TV series, both fiction and nonfiction. Recently, this fascination has kicked up a notch. Alison usually gets home before I do, so I often come home to find her watching Cold Case Files, Forensic Files, or Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. All this talk of serial killers, rapists, and child molestors---oh my!---is making me question the worth of humanity. This could just be a deal-breaker.

Talk about a deal-breaker!

Well, folks, here is a deal-breaker from my perspective.

Michael is a bed-destroyer. That's right....one night of sleeping in a bed and he can totally destroy it. Somehow in his sleep, he manages to untuck the sheet from the foot of the bed, take his pillowcases most of the way off his pillows, kick the comforter completely off the bed, and sometimes he even manages to pull one corner of the fitted sheet off. What does he DO all night? I lie there and sleep, so my covers are mostly in the same place when I'm done. It's like he's working out even at night. Crazy boy...this might be a deal-breaker.

Once Over Easy

I discovered this weekend that Alison likes the yolks in her fried eggs runny. Eww. I seriously think this could be a deal-breaker.

Bedtime Reading

Since Alison and I moved in together, I've noted a rather disconcerting pattern in our daily routines. You see, after we go to bed, I read while Alison reads or solves a crossword, sudoko, or whatever her puzzle-of-the-moment is. That's not the problem; in fact, it's one of my favorite parts of the day. The difficulty is that she is invariable done---and ready to go to sleep---before I'm more than a few paragraphs into the Make article I'm reading. This issue arises partly because she reads at an amazing rate and rips through sudoku like nobody's business, and it arises partly because, in defiance of all widely acknowledged gender stereotypes, she is done getting ready, in bed, and reading before I'm halfway through with whatever apparently overly long bedtime-preparation protocol I follow.

Alison has offered to sleep with the light on while I finish my reading---indeed she has sneakily pretended to read while going to sleep---but I always feel that, since she awakens me when she gets out of bed, I need start sleeping when she does. So, the upshot of all this I'm not getting my bedtime reading done, and I'm not sure what to do about it. After all, my Servo isn't going to read itself. I think this could be a deal-breaker.

Oh, the Shoemanity!

Alison has this habit of not untying her shoes before taking them off. I've tried to convince her that doing so is bad for the shoes, that it stretches the upper and stresses the seams, but she remains unconvinced. It makes me cringe every time she does it, especially when I've loaned her the shoes she's mistreating so. I'm not even sure how she can remove her feet from her shoes when they are still tied; I certainly can't. She must wear her shoes much more loosely than I do.

This could be---say it with me---a deal-breaker.

Can I Get Extra Cilantro on That?

I was recently reminded that Alison dislikes cilantro. She doesn't like cilantro, for crying out loud! I'm afraid this could be a deal-breaker.

Dissipation

Alison's favorite songs by Evanescence---still not a Christian band, by the way---are "Breathe no More*," "Going Under," and "Taking Over Me." Meanwhile, my favorites are "Haunted," "Farther Away," and the band's cover of Korn's "Thoughtless." I don't know; this could be a deal-breaker.

* You could be excused for thinking that "Breathe no More" and "My Last Breath" are the same song, but they aren't. What they are, is evidence that this band is more than a bit goth.

:;---()!...:-)

You may have noticed some differences between Alison's writing style and my own:

I make a lot of use of colons, semi-colons, and---only when necessary---long dashes; I find them very useful. (I also like parentheses.)

Alison, meanwhile, is very free with exclamation marks, ellipses, and even emoticons. Really! I'm not sure why... ;-)

I think this could be a deal-breaker.

Ice and Snow, Silver and Gold

I've recently discovered that Alison's favorite Winter Olympic sports are figure skating and ski jumping. Meanwhile, my own favorites are long-track speedskating---duh!---and cross-country skiing. That's right, two completely different types of skating and two entirely different kinds of skiing. I don't know. I think this may be a deal-breaker.

Ba-Na-Na, Bah-Nah-Nah

I recently learned that Alison doesn't like bananas. For years now, I've been saying things like, "I'm going to have a banana in my hot cereal. Do you want one?" And for years now, she's been saying things like, "No, thanks. I think I'll have cranberries." Somehow, I never noticed that, in 3.5 years, I've never actually seen her eat a banana, except possibly in smoothie form.

This makes me wonder, exactly whom am I marrying here? What kind of person doesn't like bananas? What other unjustifiable biases lie hidden in her psyche? I think this could be a deal-breaker.

Pulp Fiction

I think Alison and I need to break up. I've recently discovered that she likes her orange juice with no pulp. I, more correctly, prefer pulp-laden OJ. This could be a deal-breaker.