Weird Science

Ever since Peanut Head and I got our phones last year, I have taken delight in interrupting his important work at the lab whenever I can. I know how dull it can be working around all those scientist types, such as himself, and I like to infuse a ray of sunshine into his day.

Industrial sized wrench. Whatever.

Since Peanut Head is a Geophysicist, I couldn't resist sharing the above joke with him that I found on Pinterest.

I thought it was funny. I don't know why he didn't.

Then a few weeks ago I was having lunch with Glitter Man, and he started asking me questions about the metric system. Since I'm a math teacher now and all that.

At one point Glitter Man asked me a question that I didn't know the answer to, and I exclaimed "Let's ask Peanut Head! He knows everything! Watch this." 

I then proceeded to send the following text.

Although Peanut Head is not quite as quick to reference as Google, on account of he has Very Important Work to do, he did not disappoint.

Google, however, does not mock.

Lest you start to feel sorry for Peanut Head having to put up with me, I can assure you that he has his own fun with me. 

I know, this looks harmless, but you need to know that he was poking his scientist friends and laughing about the likely reaction to the following Text That Went On Too Long.

Oh wait. He's not done.

When I got this text and I was all "Whoa Nelly! I think this text was supposed to go to Bill Nye the Science Guy."

Seriously. This is what I deal with on a daily basis. All the time he's talking and he's not making any sense. 

Actually that's a bit of an exaggeration. A habit which I abhor.

Peanut Head is really not a man of many words, but when he gets fixin' to talk, make sure you've had a healthy dose of caffeine. Or a Focus Pill. Pick your poison.

Every once in a while someone asks me what Peanut Head does for a living and I always reply "He's a Geophysicist," and then I hope to high heaven that the conversation stops right there.

"Oh. Oka-a-a-ay. So what does he do as a Geophysicist?" is the often cursed response.

[heavy sigh]

"Well, the truth is . . . I don't . . . really . . . quite know. You should ask him about it! He would love to tell you about it."

Please yes, please ask him so I can watch you writhe in pain, eye balls rolling back in your head as you lose consciousness and clunk to the floor.

Here he is working in "the lab." A place I'm not allowed to visit because I don't have the proper security clearance. Whatever. Like I'm going to share top secret information on the internet with the Terrorist Mommy Bloggers.

Like I could even formulate the proper sentence to relay that information.

In this picture I think it looks like he's making Skittles. What do you think?

Then there's this picture in which I had to ask Peanut Head "When did you start working at the Dry Cleaners pressing pants?"

He informs me that this is actually a laser which will "blow a hole right through me."

Or put a mean crease in my work pants. Whatever. You can't scare me with your pants press, Peanut Head.

Recently Peanut Head has been working on this Melt-Thing, let's just pretend it's like a Freeze Ray but instead we'll call it a Melt Ray. I like to keep things simple. 

Anyway, he's been working on the Melt-Thing, and he's been having to get up super early to go in to work sixteen hour days here and there, and I sort of feel sorry for him.

I try to be an understanding and supportive wife, but really, it's such a stretch for me.

Enough! You're done.

I can't take any more of these longer than a screen shot texts. This is texting, not manuscripting.

There. That's better. Aren't I supportive and understanding?

Again, it's not always me picking on Peanut Head. Well, it mostly is, but he has his fun too.

Last week when the girlies were at Horse Camp, I was painting the inside of the Chicken Coop and I sort of locked myself inside with the girls.

So I sent this text to my white knight.

See, he's understanding and supportive too. We're a matched set.

Good thing I locked myself in there with my phone isn't it? I can entertain myself for hours with my phone.

Again, the ever supportive husband.

Now why didn't I think of that? I can get rescued with my phone too. It's such a handy little BFF.