Tonight I discovered a colony of winged ants or termites or some type of other nasty crawly thing with wings had infested a part of our yard. Naturally, my gut instinct told me to act like a girl and tell Chris to kill the bugs...
ME: (after running up onto the porch because you're safe from flying bugs if you're on higher ground) I don't know what they are, but they have wings and they're all over the driveway even. Kill 'em!
CHRIS: Do we have any spray to kill them with?
ME: Yeah, it's inside! Hurry! Eew!!!!
A minute later, the hubs comes outside with an aerosol can of hairspray in one hand and a candle lighter in the other hand.
ME: Um...no. One, I use that hairspray. Two, you're going to blow yourself up.
CHRIS: What do you want me to use then?!
ME: Get the bug spray!
Disappears into the house again, only to reemerge with bug spray - in yet another aerosol can - and, again, the candle lighter.
ME: Are you kidding me?! Put. The. Damn. Lighter. Up. Get the bug spray out of the garage.
CHRIS: (like I've kicked him in the nuts) Ugh...FINE!
Finally comes out with the pump and spray bug killer and begins to flood the nest/hive/disgusting bug house.
CHRIS: You never let me have any fun.
ME: Oh, I know, I'm really good at ruining things, aren't I?
CHRIS: Yeah, like my life!
ME: I love you too, honey...
Isn't that what marriage is about though - one person being the responsible one, and the other being an overgrown child? I know that's not just going on at my house!