Thanks for the mammaries*

Right now, Jason has a lot more free time than I do. He doesn't like being away from the family during the week, and he works long, hard hours, but the simple truth is that when he's done with work, he can do whatever he wants. He can go back to his apartment and eat, or go out with the boys for a beer, or watch TV, or read, or go to bed early, or play Guitar Hero.

I have no such options these days. But I begrudge him nothing.

On Wednesday nights, Keystone ski resort has night skiing. Jason has a Colorado Pass that gives him unlimited access to Keystone, so he and a bunch of the guys have been going on Wednesday nights, just to get a little fun in.

Apparently, some of the guys are getting guff about this from their women back home. One guy's wife has gotten super-pissed at him about it, sort of a "why-do-you-get-to-go-out-and-have-fun-when-I've-got-to-stay-home-and-take-care-of-the-kids-and-the-dog-and-the-house" kind of thing.

This makes no sense to me. Regardless of whether he goes skiing or not, she's still going to be home with the kids and the dog, so why not let him go out and have a good time?

Obviously, Jason appreciates my take on it. And generally, he's always telling me about how so many of the guys he works with bitch and moan about their wives and girlfriends, who are apparently a bunch of whining, complaining harpies who do little but give their husbands/boyfriends a hard time about everything they can think of.

"They boys all complain about their women, and I just think, man, I've got the greatest wife in the world."

"Damn right. I'm glad you recognize it."

"Seriously, baby, you're the best."

"Thanks, honey."

"We get into these conversations, and all I have to contribute is bragging about your tits."

Ah, the joys of being married to a blue-collar guy...

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*Credit goes to my friend Michele for the title, suggested when I was telling her about this ridiculous conversation I had with Jason and how it would make for a good blog post.