The HILARIOUS Reason My Friend’s Husband is Mad at Her

When my friend tells me why her husband's mad at her, I DIE laughing!  I agree with HIM! Do you? #funny #uh-oh #humor
So then…my friend Lily spears a shrimp from her salad and says ruefully, “My husband’s mad at me.”

My head snaps up from my pasta dish, my brow furrowed. “Why?”

(I can’t imagine anyone being mad at Lily. She’s one of the sweetest, most generous people I know. She’d literally give you the shirt off her back.)

She sighs, twirling the shrimp on her fork. “Well, I was at Target, getting a bunch of stuff for the kids like socks and underwear. And I guess I was distracted and in a hurry, ‘cuz I accidentally threw in a pack of underwear for my daughter that turned out to be colored underwear briefs for teen boys.”

I frown quizzically, wondering why that would upset her husband. I shovel some pasta in and use my other hand to indicate she should continue her tale.

“So I ask my husband if he wants them, but he says they’re too small,” she says.

(Hmm, was he insulted she implied the “small” underwear might fit his “nether regions?”)

“So,” she continues. “I just tossed them in the back of the car trunk and figured I’d return them to Target at some point. But then several months passed and I couldn’t find the receipt, so I knew Target wouldn’t take them back.”

(Been there, done that, sister. MANY times.)

“Surely he’s not upset over the cost?” I ask, sipping my soda.

“No,” she says. “He’s mad because…well…I took the car in to be serviced and when I picked it up, I noticed the pack was still in the car trunk. And since our mechanic is kind of thin, I asked him if he wanted them.”

I almost spit-take my soda all over the table.

“WHAT!?”

She sputters defensively, “Well, there’s no sense wasting perfectly good briefs. And we’ve had this mechanic for years, so why not give them to him? He seemed really happy to receive them.”

I die laughing.

“Let me get this straight – you got your car serviced and you paid your mechanic in UNDERWEAR?!”

“No, no,” she says. “I paid him cash for the work! The briefs were just…extra.

“Oh, so you just TIPPED your mechanic with underwear?” I tease her. “Yeah, that is so much better.”

“Now you’re sounding like my husband,” she says.

“Omigod, so you TOLD this to your husband and that’s why he’s upset? Well, no wonder!”

“But why?” she asks. “What’s the big deal?”

“Well, first of all, Lily, you are beautiful.” (This is true. She’s gorgeous in a natural, no fuss-no muss sort of way. Whenever we go out, men turn to stare at her. Of course, I immediately try to leap into their line of sight, but nope – they’re definitely staring at her.)

She rolls her eyes because she doesn’t like to hear how pretty she is.

I elaborate, “Lily, you’re thinking ‘oh, here’s something I can’t return to Target, maybe you’d like it.’ But your husband’s worried that your mechanic’s thinking, ‘this hot chick just gave me some underwear – is she coming on to me?’”

“No!” she protests.

“Well, I know that. And you know that. But does your mechanic know that? And more importantly, does your mechanic’s wife know that? What’s gonna happen when he’s sporting new undies and she asks where he got ‘em – and he says, ‘Oh, one of my lady customers gave them to me; she’s so niiiiiice.’”

Lily gasps: “Oh no!”

“Oh yes!” I say. “They’re probably fighting about your underwear RIGHT NOW! They might be filing for DIVORCE as we SPEAK! Exhibit A will be YOUR Target underwear briefs!”

She collapses into laughter, equally horrified and amused.

Yep, that’s my friend Lily – so generous, she’d give you the shirt off her back – and apparently, the underwear off her ass!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Do you have a friend like Lily?  If the roles were reversed, how would you feel — let’s say your husband gave a pack of Victoria Secret’s panties to his hair stylist?  Any embarrassing stories involving generosity, mechanics, or underwear — or a silly reason your spouse was “mad” at you?)

When my friend tells me why her husband's mad at her, I DIE laughing!

Who’s the Guilty Culprit?

So then…I’m walking downstairs, happy as a clam, in my lovely clean house – picture me, carefree and cheerful, just ambling along to an upbeat music soundtrack in my mind, with little Disney animated bluebirds sitting on my shoulder — lala lalala lala la —

when SUDDENLY I see a long streak of boogies on my white wall.

SCREECH! The music stops, the amble halts, the bluebirds fall from my shoulders in a stunned heap on the stairs.

WHAT THE WHAT?

Who was walking up these stairs, gathered a whole mess o’ snot, and thought, “Oh, I’ll just put this HERE” ???

On my wall. My white wall. My previously pristine white wall.

Being the delicate flower that I am — I bellow, “WHO WIPED THEIR BOOGERS ON THIS WALL?”

Three voices call out:
“Not me.”
“Not me.”
“Not me.”

Oh really? Only 4 of us live here. And I don’t think this is the handiwork of the AC repair guy who visited last week.

I will DNA this snot so fast your head will spin. Get the forensics tech out here STAT!

(But I fear the homicide department probably has more critical mysteries to solve than who smeared nose juice on my house wall.)

So I’ll solicit your assistance to unmask the guilty culprit.

THE SUSPECTS:

The daughter (age 5): Playful, darling, funny, girly — has been known to sport a dirty nose from time to time, but if she graces a wall — it’s more likely to be glitter, lipstick, or colored markers.

The dad: Funny, clever, and well-experienced in handling one’s own nasal emissions.

The mom: Brilliant, gorgeous and charming, if I do say so myself. Has NEVER had a dirty nose. Also does not poop, pee, or pass wind. She would NEVER sully her beloved white walls with ANYTHING.

The son (age 8): Energetic, creative, funny, certainly old enough to know better, but has demonstrated a history of inappropriate choices in regard to bodily functions – i.e. pardon me, pool guests, I’ll just take a whiz over here in the hydrangeas — or hey, pull my finger — no seriously pull my finger — it’s gonna be HILARIOUS!

So what do you think? Who’s the dirty lil boogie man?

Ding ding ding!

You guessed it! The son! The son, I tell you!

I prepare for an exhaustive grueling interrogation — carefully gathering irrefutable evidence about his means, motive, and opportunity —

But as soon as he sees the crime scene, he readily confesses with a shrug and a goofy grin. (Of course, not grinning quite so much when he realizes the sentence is cleaning it up, while enduring a lengthy but eloquent lecture on handling one’s nasal output.)

So if you happen to have a dirty lil boogie man — or boogie girl — in your house, you might want to enter the Boogie Wipes raffle for eight $50 gift cards and Boogie Wipes Prize Packs.

You’ll receive even more chances to win by liking the Facebook pages of the bloggers below.

This post is sponsored, but all opinions (and snot) belong to me and my boogie son.

— Darcy Perdu

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(Any surprising “gifts” you find around your house, courtesy of kids, pets, or the air conditioning repair guy? There are about 87 expressions to let someone know their fly is open — but what’s the best phrase to let someone know they need to take care of their nasal business?)

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How to Make New “Friends” at a Lady Gaga Concert!

So then…I hop a flight to Vegas for the Lady Gaga ART POP Ball‘cuz that’s how I roll.

Lady Gaga Wings 429

Actually, that’s how my niece rolls! And since she wanted to celebrate turning 18 this weekend at a Vegas Gaga concert, her mom (my sister) invited my 14-year-old daughter and moi to join the fun. So we have a blast enjoying Vegas all weekend, including the girls zip-lining down wild Fremont Street at midnight on Friday.

Lady Gaga Slotzilla 429

On Saturday, we splash it up at our hotel’s gorgeous pools at the MGM Grand where the concert’s being held tonight. After a lovely lunch at the poolside café, the server brings the bill.

Me:         Can I put this on the hotel room?
Server:    Sure. (grabs pen) What’s your hotel room number?
Me:         12-124
Server:    What’s your last name?
Me:         Gaga. First name — Lady.

Her head pops up, eyes wide.

Me:         Yeah, she’s a good friend. She told me I could charge anything I want to her room.
Server:    Whaaaa?

The rest of my table cracks up laughing, so the server realizes I’m kidding. But I was close – THIS close, I tell ya – if my sister, niece, and daughter hadn’t blown my cover — dem lil bitches. (But they do refer to me as “First name: Lady” for the rest of the trip, so I forgive them.)

That night, we zip downstairs to the arena to rock out to the Gaga concert with my friends.

And by “friends,” I mean awesome people who let me take their picture and who don’t actually know they are friends with me – yet.

Lady A 1 429

Lady A 2

Because I desperately want to be friends with these people because they are amazingly enthusiastic and commited and cool and creative.

Lady A 3

Lady A 4

I mean, look at these outfits!

Lady A 5

Yes, that’s a 6’4″ dude hanging out by the Roasted Nuts stand.

Lady A 6

Lady A 7

I LOVE this kind of fervor.

Lady A 9

Lady A 10

It doesn’t matter if you’re dressing up for a concert like this – or dressing up for a sporting event by painting your face with your team’s colors — you have my admiration for proudly displaying your allegiance. Go big or go home, baby!

The first act is a darling K-Pop group called CRAYON POP.

Lady Crayon Pop Photo 429

They wear colorful school girl outfits — and helmets for some inexplicable reason – (Do they need to make a speedy motorcycle getaway? Do they have identical head injuries? Or just a Bad Hair Day for everyone?) Whatever the reason, they look adorable as they pull off some highly-complicated synchronized dance moves while singing infectious pop songs. We LOVE them!

However, the middle act is some DJ chick at a soundboard playing what sounds like heavy metal Electronic Dance Music. And while I’m sure she’s a lovely person who probably crochets afghans for orphans and reads to blind puppies (so don’t take this personally, lady), but I hate EDM. Sounds like one monotonous bass line punctuated by noises a drunk rhino would make in a hoarder’s tool shed.

So during her set, I excuse myself to the ladies room — and take the opportunity to snap pics of my new “friends” out by the concessions while my sister stays in the seats with our daughters.

While I’m hangin’ with the Little Monsters, I receive this text from my daughter — which makes me laugh out loud. She knows me so well –

You should come back soon — this is the last “song” before Gaga

Ha! Damn right EDM deserves quotation marks around the word “song!”

As I weave through the crowd back to my seat, I’m energized by all the camaraderie amongst the attendees – young and old, gay and straight, every race, every nationality – everyone’s there for one reason — to have a BALL! Gaga’s all about love and self-acceptance – and we love that!

This concert’s going to be a spectacular spectacle filled with outrageous costumes and rousing renditions of G.U.Y., Gypsy, Poker Face, Paparazzi, Alejandro, Bad Romance, and much more.

Just before she takes the stage, 3 Hispanic men file into the seats in front of us. They’re dressed in jeans, drinking from super-size beer cans, and look like burly construction workers.

I don’t mean stylized construction workers like the dude from Village People. Or burly like Bears. Or muscular 6-pack abs like manual-laborers-slash-underwear models. I mean like burly macho Hispanic men you’d see at a construction site.

I exchange a quizzical look with my sister. I wonder if these guys accidentally wandered into the wrong arena on their way to a monster truck rally or a boxing match — and they have no idea they’re about to see this:

Lady Gaga Octopus 429

Or maybe they said to the hotel concierge, “Can you get us tickets to a Vegas show? Maybe magic or juggling or something?” And they sit down and see this:

Lady Gaga Kpop 429

I’m interested to see their reaction when the show starts.

I picture them looking puzzled and whispering “Que pasa?” to each other.

Suddenly the lights dim — then a burst of BLAZING LIGHTS! The music explodes — and Gaga and her dancers gyrate on stage in a dazzling frenzy of excitement!

My burly Hispanic construction workers instantly begin dancing the exact same moves as Gaga’s dancers.

The.exact.same.moves!

Take that, stereotyping!

They’re amazing! These 3 guys know every word of every song — and every move of every dance! I’ve never seen more impressive gyrating in such a small space before! They’re limiting their movements to the 24 inch area directly in front of their seats – but oh they are fierce!

As the concert progresses, they venture outside their area a bit, dancing and gesticulating passionately – they turn around to dance with us, high five us, hug us, and sing loudly along with us. We have a blast together!

And that’s one of the reasons I love concerts so much – especially a concert like Lady Gaga – you never know who you’re going to meet –

And regardless if they look like Club Kids (blue circle) – or Local Librarians (red circle) –

Lady Gaga Club Kids Librarians with Circles 429

They’re ALL here to PARTY — and revel in the music and spectacle that is:

Last Name: Gaga.  First Name: Lady.

ROCK ON, LITTLE MONSTERS!

— Darcy Perdu

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(Been to a fun concert lately? Which outfit above is your favorite?)

How to Make Friends at a Lady Gaga Concert -- funny story of my attempt to befriend Little Monsters!  #concert #costume #ladygaga #funny #humor #dance

Hungover in WHOSE Heels?

Hungover in WHOSE Heels?  #funny  #travel #flight #Boston #heels

So then…just as I settle in to sip my soda at 20,000 feet — I hear the passenger behind me ask the flight attendant, “What’s the weather like in Boston?”

WHAT THE HELL?

This flight’s going to Washington DC!

She says, “Oh, it’s nice in Boston tonight. A little cool.”

I pop up and tap her on the shoulder. “Um, where did you say this plane was going?”

“Boston,” she replies.

“No, Washington DC,” I say slowly.

“Noooo. Boston,” she says.

We stare at each other.

One of us is wrong.

And it’s possible the one who’s correct about where the airplane is going is the airplane employee.

Ah, dammit!

To be candid, I hadn’t wanted to go on this stupid business trip anyway. I love my New York job but what 24-year-old wants to cut their weekend short to fly to DC for a Monday morning conference?  Not me!

“I thought I was on the plane to DC?” I say hopefully. Maybe the pilot can make a U-turn?

Um no.

“Sorry,” she says. “We’re headed to Boston. But let’s see what we can do.”

Angel that she is, she radios down to the airline supervisor who hooks me up with a free flight to DC first thing tomorrow – and a free hotel room in Boston tonight!

SCORE! I’m thrilled I don’t have to pay for it myself — or miss the conference — or admit my blunder to my boss.

When I unpack my overnight bag in the hotel, I realize I brought my business suit, blouse, stockings – and NO SHOES!

I only have the sneakers I wore on the flight tonight!

I can’t possibly attend a professional business conference in a suit, stockings, and SNEAKERS! And of course they don’t sell high heels in the hotel gift shop! And certainly not in a size 10! (Yes, I have feet the size of surfboards!)

Brainstorm!

“Hello, Kim? Guess which of your favorite cousins just landed in Boston and desperately needs to borrow a pair of your size 10 heels? I’ll buy you massive amounts of cocktails in exchange for borrowing your shoes!”

So my big-hearted (and big-footed) cousin Kim drives over to the hotel and dumps 7 pairs of heels on my hotel bed! We pick a pair, then head to the lobby bar for libations.

We laugh, talk, cackle, eat, drink — and drink some more — and finally stumble back up to the room in the wee hours of the morning.

The next day, my head’s splitting as I slip on her shoes, hug her goodbye, and dash off to the airport for my early morning flight.

An hour later, I land in DC – hungover in borrowed heels.

I suffer through the conference – taking a few notes to share with my boss later.

Then I zip back to NY, so relieved that no one need know about my slight detour.

A week later, I receive a note from the accounting department saying, “Your receipts included an airline ticket stub from NY to Boston – and from DC to NY. Please advise how you got from Boston to DC.”

Ah dammit.

I wonder if I can say, “Hey, dudes, chill. It didn’t cost the company any extra money – and just never you mind how I got from Boston to DC. Just be cool, accountants, be cool.”

Probably not.

I figure I’d better “advise” my boss before I “advise” the accounting department.

I’m mortified, of course. At 24, I want to appear professional, well-prepared, and competent.

I hesitantly confess.

My boss bursts out laughing. “You got on the WRONG plane?”

She hops up and pokes her head out the door to yell: “Did you hear that? Darcy got on the wrong plane! She was supposed to go to DC but she went to BOSTON! Bwahahaha!”

My coworkers pop up from their cubicles to cheer, clap, and laugh.

I hang my head on the Walk of Shame back to my cubicle.

Henceforth, I’m mocked mercilessly whenever I go somewhere:
“Have a great trip to Denver, Darcy – or where ever you end up.”
“Need a map to your apartment?”
“Can I help you find the bathroom?”

And THAT’S how I earned the nickname, “Wrong Way Darcy!”

— Darcy Perdu

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(Ever end up in the wrong place? Take the wrong road – get lost – hop on the wrong plane/train/bus/boat? Any other delicate flowers out there with Sasquatch-size feet?)

Hungover Letter to President

Hungover Letter FROM President

Although I’m mercilessly mocked for my wayward ways, I have the good Southern manners to write a thank you note to the President of Eastern Airlines (as shown here).

I share the story of the free flight and hotel room, then write, “I was delighted with the kindness and concern of your employees. I salute your generosity and understanding. Should I ever wander on to the wrong plane again – I hope it’s one of yours!”

Yep, these are actual excerpts between me and the President of Eastern Airlines over the airplane snafu!

Gone Baby Gone

Gone Fishing 350

Oh, let’s be honest — Gone DRINKIN’!

Off to a beach vacation!  So while I’m off chugging cocktails, dodging sharks, and flashing my tatas at unsuspecting tourists…

Enjoy these chuckle-worthy gems that you likely missed the first time around.

Just click the 3 images below — and tell me which one is your favorite!

And tell me your favorite beach drink!

Would-be robbers: beware! Our house-sitters are feisty ninja warriors with anger-management issues.

Stop robbing houses and start reading my funny stories instead!

Darcy Perdu

Mister, Please, Do NOT Put That in Your Mouth! #funny #shocking #embarrassing

Funny Run-In with Cops #smartass #funny #cops

Naked Stranger in my Shower! #funny #dating #roommates #naked