ISSUE 08-16

Woman, you know your place is in the BatKitchen!
UM, WHEN WAS IT POLITCALLY CORRECT, EXACTLY?




The Judgementalsons are back, judgier than ever!
HEY, HEY, WHAT DO YOU SAY, SOMEONE TOOK YOUR MANHOOD AWAY…PART II*
*The following story is MOSTLY true. Really!

Last Saturday proved to be a glorious, sun-dappled day, one where numerous backyard chores could be completed, and a few actually were.

Mrs. Joey and I built a gazebo, without either one of us soliciting a divorce lawyer. Still basking in the glow of this rare achievement, Mrs. Joey heard a beckoning from the Judgmentalson’s back yard.

“EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME!”

She looked over to see Mrs. J peering through one of the gaps in our ever-declining fence. She had tied back her vipers into a stylish ponytail, but her sneer remained sharp as glass.


I like this guy's chances more than Todd's...

“Can you tell me why you’re taking pickets off this fence?” she queried, arms folded tight. Mrs. J has a way of setting you on your heels, and making you feel small and ridiculous. After all, in her world, pickets stay on fences, fences don’t fall down, and husbands do what they’re DAMN WELL TOLD, or they face the consequences.

“Um, because the pickets would fall off otherwise?” said Mrs. Joey, hoping the answer would please Mrs. J.

It did, and finally, a pleasant conversation ensued. Barring any unforeseen developments, a new fence will be constructed this summer. We have achieved peace in our time.

And wow - we are only expected to pay for our share, with all the labour provided by Mr. J and his brother. I haven’t felt this lucky since the time I used a "free donut" rim to get a crueller at Tim Horton's. Here's the thing: cruellers don't count as donuts! So I totally screwed them! Ha! (sob...)

But here’s a wrinkle we never saw coming. In the back-and-forth about a new fence, the timing of the construction had to be addressed. Mrs. J confirmed that her husband could build it no sooner than July, because they would be away for the entire month of June, at a clinic in Calgary.

“We’re having fertility issues,” said Mrs. J with completely unexpected and totally unnecessary candor. I wish I had a little “TMI” neon sign I could pull out for these occasions.

Mr. J, the poor helpless bastard, appeared to be looking for the nearest exit point, preferably a rip in the space-time continuum.

I felt a quick twinge of guilt, as I had in the past joked that Mrs. J couldn't possibly support life inside her spooky cavern of horrors. “She can keep a beer ice-cold just by holding it between her legs!”, I would say often, aglow with smugness.

But with this new and ambiguous disclosure, Mrs. Joey reminded me that fertility issues do not necessarily reside with the female.

“Good grief,” I said. “It could be Todd. He might have what is clinically known as ‘demoralized’ sperm.”

I would, and you would too, if one were married to Mrs. J (a circumstance that could only occur through a downward spiral of poorer and poorer life decisions, driven by low self-esteem). I could imagine her egg sizing up my little soldiers, then sending them back.

“You’re PATHETIC!” it screams as they swim away, tails between their legs.


One of Todd's swimmers, obviously at pre-launch stage.

But all joking aside, let’s hope by the end of the summer that everybody has what they want.

And if that clinic offers sensitivity training for eggs (Session One: But how can the sperm help you if you won’t let it in?), then maybe, just maybe, all of our hopes will come true.

NEXT WEEK: The guys ask for it, the guys get it... a Sex And The City movie review!


I like to link it, link it
THE FRIDAY TIME WASTERS

Maybe if you weren't a bunch of CHEATERS, it wouldn't have come to this...

A list of television series cancelled after one episode...


And finally!
THIS PICTURE BEGS FOR A CAPTION…