S**t my Fiancé Says


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99% of Twitter is painful - a mass exposé of the boringness of other people’s thoughts…in bite-sized form. Blogs, other other hand, are an exposé of the boringness of other people’s thoughts…ad nauseum. I apologize for that.

No-one writes anything interesting on Twitter, not even Stephen Fry who is surprisingly not funny in mini. It’s a tricky medium for comedy. The one person who has it nailed though is Honest Toddler. Sometimes I wonder if I find it funny because Baby A will one day be a toddler or because I have the undeveloped sense of humor of a toddler…but I think that it’s just f’hilarious.

Some examples of Honest Toddler tweets:
"If you love someone let them go." What kind of nonsense if that. If you love someone pick them up.
How would you go about fixing a house plant if someone accidentally removed all of the leaves? No judgement please.
How am I supposed to learn my numbers when she keeps using 1, 2 and 3 as threats?
How many times does a grown up need to yawn in the morning before they have enough oxygen. Drama.
If I were meant to wear pants I would've been born with them on. Science.

There’s another one called
S**t My Dad Says. This guy posts the insights of his old, grumpy, objectionable father e.g. “You can't come...Because it's not a vacation if my family is with me. I could vacation in my fucking house if you people left it.”. Apologies for the crude language but I actually could not find an example that didn’t have a bold word in it.

Anyway, I would never write a blog or Twitter feed mocking my father, mostly because he would likely come over here and beat me with fishing tackle. Plus, a lot of what my dad says is either about economics or ancient Greece - sometimes the two of them together and, forgive me, but
S**t That Parmenides Said just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Mr Oh, on the other hand, says all kinds of things…some of them very odd. I feel it is my duty to record some of his out-loud-thoughts so that when he’s old and the doctor suspects he might be suffering from dementia I can say ‘No, he’s always been that way”.

Last night when I tried to give him Baby A:

  • “I want to hold the baby, I do, but not when he’s a screaming ball of rage….like the Ukraine when its oil has been cut off.”

Also last night:
  • “Will you tape the Antiques Roadshow for me? But don’t tell anyone.”

Out of the blue (while wielding a q-tip with a guilty look on his face):
  • “I’ve decided to refrain from sticking things up the baby's nose.”

During the car journey from Maastricht to Brussels:
  • “Have you ever thought about what you’d like your name to be if you were German? I’ve given this some thought and I’d quite like to be called Georg Boomgaarden”

During the same journey:
  • “Do you know what’s cool? Imagining that we’re doing this journey on a galloping horse.”

When confronted with a whole squid in a tapas restaurant:
  • “Calamari is a fish? I thought they were like o-shaped floaty things”

In the labour room:
  • “I’m just going to lie down here and go for a nap…I’m exhausted”.

And my favourite, one morning at 8am:
  • Mr Oh: I think you need to feed the baby. He hasn’t been fed since midnight.
  • Me: I fed him at 3am and at 6am.
  • Mr Oh: But I wasn’t awake.
  • Me: That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.



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