One of C's marketable business skills is boiling complicated things down to their simple essence.

They've got expiration dates, those things.

Just to be clear, when C says 'quality time,' she means she will watch anime while I go to the beach to catch up on the latest bikini fashions.

What is it? Do I stink?

After eight years of marriage, though, you begin to figure out certain things about being with one-another. Like how to tolerate granny driving. And how to put together furniture. Over the last several months, C and I have tackled several jobs, and I'm happy to report that furniture assembly is no longer the divisive activity it once was.

Oh, and yes, today is celebratory for one more reason . . . Happy Birthday, C!

I've always fancied myself an aficionado of the pop culture, particularly of any variety born or raised in the 80s or 90s. And while I'm not the encyclopedia of information that my friend Mitch is, I am, perhaps, something of an abridged coffee-table reference. Or maybe a pocket dictionary.

A man and a woman are in the lingerie section at Macy's. It seems like they've been shopping for a while. Maybe it's undershirts that bring them to this particular location in the mall. Or bras . . .

I know a man shouldn't make comments like this about his wife . . .

That said, we do have very different driving techniques, and the fact that the other doesn't share a particular habit has lead to more than a couple heated arguments over the 'correct' way to drive, and even once resulted in the cancellation of our dinner plans.