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.


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!

MY Red Lace Panties on HER Head?

Hilarious Story about how MY Red Lace Panties Ended Up on HER Head!  #funny  #bra  #panties  #shopping  #fashion

So then…she says, “Maybe black lace? Or something colorful? Purple?”

“I don’t know – maybe,” I respond. “But I do need a whole new wardrobe of unmentionables. It’s been so long since I’ve been bra and panty shopping – mine are falling apart!”

“Yeah,” says Melissa. “But I hate bra shopping. Such a pain.”

We’re in our 20s with fairly slim figures, but shopping for bras or swimsuits are always the worst excursions, regardless of your age or size. Too many options — and it’s a hassle to keep squeezing into tight garments for the right fit.

We walk the few short blocks from our Park Avenue office to the Lord & Taylor department store on Fifth Avenue and 39th. It’s a lovely store and soon we are knee-deep (tits-deep?) in bras of every shape, color, and size.

Melissa only needs a couple items, but my shopping bag is packed with several bras and even more panties. I’m stunned by the total cost. Why is it — the less the fabric, the higher the price?

We have just enough time to zip into the pizza place on the corner before returning to the office.

We order our slices and sodas at the counter, then join the throngs crammed together into the little tables and chairs. I pop up a couple times for napkins and soda refills.

When we’re done, I reach beneath the table for my Lord & Taylor shopping bag.

It’s gone.


We look everywhere but it’s clearly been nicked while we were eating.

How infuriating!

Not only did I spend a sizeable chunk of this week’s pay on the aforementioned unmentionables – but I wasted an hour trying on a million bras to find the exact right fit in a variety of styles and colors.

“I can’t believe I didn’t even notice anyone stealing my shopping bag! How could I not see someone walking off with it?” I ask.

Melissa says, “It’s New York! We’re all squished in here — plus there are bag ladies coming in and out of this place all the time. One of them probably just picked it up and added it to her other bags and kept walking.”

A bag lady?

This distresses me even more. At least a professional thief-junkie would return the undergarments to the store with the receipt — and get cash back for some crack or smack.

But a bag lady would probably just wear the expensive bras on the outside of her flak jacket – and my new red lace panties on her head.

From that point forward, as I’m walking in the city, I’m on high alert look-out for my bras and panties in case I see any of them gracing the outerwear of the city’s bag ladies – with price tags still attached.

I picture myself doling out dollars amongst the street dwellers, seeking intel: “Psst hey, have you seen anyone sporting a scoop neckline lavender lace bra with reinforced straps? How about zebra design panties with a black side bow? No? OK, keep your eyes open, doll. I’m on a mission here.”

— Darcy Perdu

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(Do you detest bra/panty/swimsuit shopping as much as I do? Ever have something stolen right out from under you? Any New York City stories?  I love to read your comments!)