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Don't know if anyones seen this site before, an English guy documenting the type of things he and his German girlfriend have argued about. He was offered a book deal two weeks after his website appeared, has written two books and is adapting for the big/small screen. Think its classic myself.

A few examples;

First Born's name (Jonathan). Then, when that was settled...

How to pronounce First Born's name.

Our telephone number.

See if you can spot the difference between these two statements:

(a) "Those trousers make your backside look fat."

(b) "You're a repellently obese old hag upon whom I am compelled to heap insults and derision - depressingly far removed from the, 'stupid, squeaky, pocket-sized English women,' who make up my vast catalogue of former lovers and to whom I might as well return right now as I hate everything about you."

Maybe the acoustics were really bad in the dining room, or something.

She really over-reacts whenever she catches me wearing her underwear.

I get accused of hoarding things by Margret. Now, this is entirely unfair - electrical items never die, you see, I am merely unable to revive them with today's technology. In the future new techniques will emerge and, combined with the inevitably approaching shortage of AC adapters and personal cassette players, my foresight will pay off and the grateful peoples of the Earth will make me their God. Anyway, never mind that now, because the real point is that it's Margret who fills our house with crap. And I'm not talking about doing so by the omission of crap-throwing-away here, but by insane design. While sorting out the stuff in the boxes, these are some of the things I've discovered that Margret actually packed away at our last house and brought to our new one:

A dentist's cast of her teeth circa 1984.

Empty Pringles tubes.

Rocks (not 'special ornamental rocks', you understand, just 'rocks' from our previous garden).

Old telephone directories.

Two carrier bags full of scraps of material.

Those little sachets of salt and sugar you get with your meal on planes.

Some wooden sticks.

Last year's calendar.

And yet, were I to throw her from a train, they'd call me the criminal.

I came home from work on Friday and, as I wearily opened the door into the house, Second Born, Peter, heard me entering and poked his head out of the living room.

'Hello, Papa - I've missed you,' he shouts. From within the living room Margret's voice calls out to him 'No you haven't, Peter.'

Margret is sitting at this computer (which is in the attic room, incidentally) typing something. I'm flopped in a chair close by with a paper and pad, scribbling away at a bit of work.

I pause and say to her, 'Tortoise and turtle is the same word in German, isn't it?'

She stops typing, reaches over, pulls off one of my Birkenstock shoes, throws it down through trapdoor (I hear it thud below, then flip-flop down the stairs) and returns to her typing. All in a single, silent movement.

Your guess is as good as mine, frankly.

Funny 'cause its true? Or not funny?

Here's the link.
 

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Ha! Very funny!!!

Makes me kind of jealous actually...... I've never had a relationship that interesting (though probably because I'm just boring)


I see the book is on sale at Amazon with mixed reviews (most say it's funny but boring - - which actually is like most of my past relationships, so I might buy it)
 

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i actually sat down and read the whole page. this took nearly an hour. there is a link to it on bored.com (another source of mind draining yet hilarious entertainment.) what i can't figure out is why he's still with her
 
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