Life with Dennis Miller

Yes, it’s true.  I live with THE Dennis Miller.  No, not the famous comedian.  My husband!  He’s the only Dennis Miller that matters…at least to me.  He’s not famous, but he’s a comedian in his own right, and though I’m not familiar with the other Dennis Miller, I have to say I’m pretty partial to my husband’s brand of humor.

Last month I started writing down some of our exchanges and collecting pictures, etc., so I could compile them into a post for you guys, to give you a peek into what everyday life with Dennis is like (with his permission, of course).  I hope you enjoy and grow to love my man as much as I do.

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Scene: Me holding a cake I just finished decorating in front of the open refrigerator, realizing there’s nowhere to set it.
Me: “Can you make some room in the fridge for me?”
Dennis: “No matter how much room I make, I don’t think you’re going to fit in there.”

When I was studying for the test that determined my future with the post office, I asked Dennis to help me by coming up with some math problems I could practice with.  Five minutes later, he handed me this:

It helped more than real math problems would have, because it was a stressful time and the five-minute laugh session I got out of this paper was cathartic. :)

A friend called to tell Dennis he was moving his family to Wichita and asked where a good area was to buy a home. From my end, I heard Dennis say, “I don’t know…the east side has like…things. And the west side, has like, I don’t know, Mexicans I guess.” I nearly suffocated because I was laughing so hard I couldn’t take in air. He’s so crazy!

Background: I have a bad habit of throwing clothes on the floor or laying them on top of my dresser.
Scene: Me in the bedroom, calling into the nearby office.
Me: “I’m hanging up my clothes, Dennis! Aren’t you proud of me for putting my things away?”
Dennis: “Yes. Behold, this is my wife, with whom I am well pleased.”

Background: I’m always trying to get Dennis to try things he thinks he hates. He thinks he hates guacamole.
Scene: In the kitchen, sampling the guacamole I just made.
Me: “This is delicious! Do you want to try?”
Dennis (in a whiny voice): “But look, it’s all green, and I hate green things. Besides, I just filled up on lettuce.”

I asked Dennis to take a “before” picture of me for my henna post.  I told him “I only need my hair,” meaning he didn’t have to do a full-body shot.  This is what he took:

Scene: I’m making popcorn on the stove and Dennis is singing “Jimmy crack corn, and I don’t care,” while washing dishes, when suddenly he stops and turns to me.
Dennis: “If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, then why is there a song about it?”

Dennis and I have a late night tradition where he will chop up half a head of iceburg lettuce into a big bowl and drown it with homemade Italian dressing and we’ll share it in the office.  As we were devouring our shared salad one night, I speared a piece of lettuce that had no end.  I am the perfectionist and Dennis is the laid-back one.  When I chop lettuce, each piece is bite-sized.  When Dennis chops lettuce, some pieces are bite sized, and others, well….

Background: We dropped off my car at the shop earlier, just before they closed, knowing they wouldn’t get to it until after the July 4th holiday weekend.
Scene: In Den’s truck with him at the wheel, coming home from grocery shopping. It starts to rain.
Me: “Oh no! I can’t believe I left my windows down. What if they didn’t roll them up before closing the shop? I think we should go see if we need to roll them up.”
Dennis: “OK, but if they’ve already moved your car into the garage, I’m not breaking in so you can roll your windows up.”

Me: “I can’t believe it’s already 10:00! How did that happen?”
Dennis: “Well, it was 9:00. Then an hour passed.”

Background: I can’t stand long socks unless they are covered by long pants.  Therefore, I’ve bought Dennis numerous pairs of ankle socks for shorts weather.
Scene: Getting ready to go grocery shopping, headed to the door when I look down at Dennis’ feet. He is wearing shorts, tennis shoes, and his favorite kind of socks—the kind that go up to his knees.
Me: “Dennis! Look at your feet! I don’t think so, not happening.”
Dennis: (laughing): “I was going to roll them down.”
Oy!  Happens every time.

Me: “There’s something on your forehead.”  Dennis swipes at it ineffectually. I take over and then stare down in horror.  “It’s a booger!”

I may as well have kids.

We have a magnetic pad on the refrigerator (Thanks, Tina, for the fabulous cake pad!), and as we run out of things or realize we need something, we write it down so that I can include it on next week’s shopping list.  When I ask Dennis to add things, well, you can see some of the things I find on a regular basis:

Peanut butter really is our life source-we go through about a pound a week!

While taking a walk, Dennis and I were discussing how we, as a nation, sit too much. Then he went off on a typical-Dennis expostulation.

“The real problem with America is there are too many people that don’t sit,” he began. “A nation divided will fall. If there’s a disproportionate ratio of people exercising to people sitting all day, we will weaken as a nation. If I ever run for office, I’ll propose huge tax breaks for Americans who sit for at least twelve hours of each day. Then more people will sit to claim the tax breaks, and it will strengthen us as we become united. My slogan will be, ‘Sit, and be strong!’”

*sigh*  How can you not love someone this ridiculous?  Resistance is futile.