It's those rare sober days I remember the best....

It seems impossible to believe, but as of today I�ve been married a whole year. Unbelievable. 365 days. I�m telling you, the time just�what�s that honey? TWO years? I�ve been married two freakin� years? To the same woman?

Seriously though, they�ve been the best years of my life, except for my six years in college when I was out all night, every night, with any number of women doing many things I'm not allowed to even think about anymore. High school was pretty good too; so carefree and casual. My married years, though, come in easily at third place (although I don�t remember much from age 1-7 except eating paste and squirting WD-40 at bugs...actually those were fun days, too, weren't they?).

I�m ashamed to admit I haven�t bought an anniversary present yet. The traditional gift of the second anniversary is cotton, so I was thinking Q-Tips, a t-shirt, cotton candy, or a membership to the National Cotton Council. I was told those things aren�t particularly romantic, but you�d be stunned how the chicks swoon when you mention the National Cotton Council. I neglected to get her anything for her birthday so I really need to come up with something good. (I know what all the males are thinking � you forget one birthday and it�s like the end of the world. Cripes, it�s not like we�re married or anything). I�m starting to think maybe I should just write a series of really nice things on here. It would have a real cute, personal touch, provided she still looks at this site. I wouldn�t know since I haven�t been home in days. (Can you believe it, she freaked out about that, too! Crying out loud, you take an attractive coworker to Barbados on your wife�s credit card and all of a sudden you�re Jeffrey Freaking Dahmer).

So, a la that episode of Malcolm in the Middle from a few weeks back, here�s a list of things I love about you, honey, in no particular order:

- I love the way I have to wash off your mouthpiece every night since it seems to grow spores, molds and fungus at an alarming rate. I love the Mushmouth-from-Fat-Albert way you talk when you�re wearing it -- very sexy. I love the way you suddenly found out you suffered from TMJ after we got married (hint to you single men), though I�ve never seen documentation to back up this claim.

- I love the way you don�t deny me the pleasure of doing all the dishes, even if I�ve cooked. (What do I mean �if�?) Your contribution to our little family, i.e., watching A Makeover Story and clipping your toenails, is more than enough, and I thank you for it. It should be noted that you do, in fact, clean up your own toenails, something I'm guilty of forgetting every now and again.

- I love the way you don�t get sports. �We want who to win? The Avalanche? Why? But Ray Bourque doesn�t play for the Bruins. Why do you care? Can we watch A Makeover Story?� (To the untrained ear, �Can we watch A Makeover Story?� is an interrogative question, inquiring into the possibility of perhaps watching that program. To the married ear, it�s a declarative sentence, no different than �We are watching A Makeover Story. If we do not watch A Makeover Story, I will want to talk about window treatments and read the Pottery Barn catalog out loud.�)

- I love the way your diet consists of cheese, milk, cereal, eggs and toast. Our marriage has been two years of perpetual breakfast.

- I love the way you don�t mind me blaming anything and everything bad that happens on the dog, bad karma, or rabid monkeys. I realize you haven�t seen the roving band of rabid monkeys that live in our apartment, but rest assured I�ll try not to pack them when we move. That way they won�t get the dog all hyper while feeding him fudge and collard greens at 11:30 at night, guaranteeing that he�ll puke on the bed at about 1:00. They�re crafty little bastards, those monkeys.

- I love the way you decide when my underwear has seen a little too much action. I guess this is something all women do, possibly because of a massive fetish for buying underwear, even if it�s not for them. It is true I have boxers with more gaping holes than a 45-year old porn star and I can understand your being jealous, but you do things my skivvies could never do, like watch A Makeover Story marathon.

- I love the way you don�t mind me making fun of you watching A Makeover Story. You notice no one on that show is married? If they were, it would be called A Woman Sits At Home and Watches A Makeover Story Because She Doesn't Much Care For Her Own Personal Appearance On Account of Her Being Married Story.

- I love the way I�ve somehow acquired Steel Magnolias, Beaches, Mermaids, Mystic Pizza and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers on DVD, while you�ve managed to get out of watching the Exorcist, Bound, Caddyshack, Raging Bull, the Blues Brothers, Godfather I AND II, and any of my massive collection of porn. Oh wait, you made me sell all the porn. Well I love you for that too. I think.

So there you go. If that gets me out of figuring out what National Cotton Council-approved product I should buy, so much the better. Maybe some new sheets for the foldout couch, which is what I�ll be using after she sees the armpit hair jokes. I love that she has a sense of humor.