Surprise, Surprise

I like surprises. I really do. Not the kind where your pooch leaves you a mammoth I-can't-believe-you-left-me-alone-with-what's-her-face-for-the-whole-weekend dump in the middle of the carpet. Not the kind where your teenager discovers she's oops-wonder-how-that-happened skipped a period. And I'm not too sure about the I-told-my-parents-about-you-and-YOUR-BLOG announcement, cuz . . . holy first impressions, Batman! Those heart-stopping surprises can leave you pinging around the room like a crazed pinball in search of a deep, dark hole. But I'm talking about fun surprises. Man surprises, cuz when a man surprises you with his good intentions, you get a feel-good smile out of it. At some point.

But, as we all know, there are right ways and wrong ways for a man to surprise his woman. For instance:

Wrongway Surprise Exhibit A, which says:  But I Was Doing You a Favor
After Winter put her cake in the oven, she went to the store, leaving her husband Adam "in charge." Adam, a self-professed "excellent baker" from waaaaaay back, took it upon himself to exhume their daughter's birthday sheet cake from the oven and frost it. How hard could it be, right? You pop that sucker out of the oven, cut it in half, plop it on a plate, and slather the creamy stuff all over it, just like you do to your face in the morning. He must have been thinking, When she sees what I have done for her, I am so getting laid tonight.

I give you now Surprise Exhibit A, for which we all got a good laugh and Adam got a good tongue lashing, and for which (I am betting cold, hard cash) Adam did not get laid.



Even though it looks like it, this hand-frosted masterpiece has not been, nor would it ever be, attacked by rats or raccoons or humans who are not blind. Plus, Adam's bakery exploits necessitated a replacement cake, prepared in record "OMG we don't have time for this" time by his harried wife.

Wrongway Surprise Exhibit B, which says:  But You LIKE Surprises
Lacy's husband Wayne, always a kidder, strategically placed an intriguing trinket in her bathroom shower, hoping she would come upon it and be pleasantly shocked and awed, followed by uproarious laughter and phone calls to all her friends about how he “got” her good. He must have been thinking, She's going to be reminded how much I make her laugh, and—slam dunk—I will surely get laid tonight.

I give you now Surprise Exhibit B, the sight of which caused his wife to highjump six feet into the air, clutching her ample bosom, while shrieking his name like an evil banshee, and for which (I am betting cold, hard cash) Wayne did not get laid.



Note also that Surprise Exhibit B is considerably larger than a real cockroach and therefore inspires higher decibels. And since Waynerdog repeated this little trick with me, his unsuspecting roomie (because he could), I can attest to the part about highjumping, bosom clutching, and evil banshee shrieking. As a side note, turns out Wayne can scuttle out of a room just as fast as a cockroach.

Rightway Surprise Exhibit C, which says:  But I Was Thinking of You the Whole Time
Hot Sexy Man, or as he likes to be called, HSM, spent the earlier part of last Friday night in the liquor store where he chatted up 24-year-old hottie distributors and taste-tested their finer offerings. While there, HSM texted me, "I got something for you." He must have been thinking, She's going to think I only have eyes for her, and this will get me laid tonight.

On his arrival several hours later, I was presented with Surprise Exhibit C.

I really did dig it and, of course, you see how much we drank once the bottle was opened. I will let you guess how this one turned out—if you dare risking your cold, hard cash.

(In the interest of full disclosure, cuz I know you peeps have come to rely on my honesty, I am still and always a virgin.)
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