
For many a human male married to a human female, they find the latter has a habit of nagging. This is persistent complaining to do something the human male doesn’t want to do.
She’s a “termagant”—an overbearing woman. Either that or the geezer is just lazy. Whatever, today we’re helping this bloke out.
Nag On This
Howdy. Me and the wife of 30 years live in Bacon Level, Alabama, where I work as a project manager at a cement factory. She’s from Russia originally, but isn’t a communist. But she sure as dagnamit likes to nag me day in, day out. Last month I recorded every single nag down on paper and it maxed out at 3,546 times, dagnamit. Here’s just a few of the goddamn things she has a problem with: - How much I was sweating in bed one night because I was having a nightmare about Elvis. I woke with a start and the sheets were drenched (partially because I’d wet myself again due to inebriation). - Why I should eat with my mouth shut, not open, and dagnamit I told her to cram a sock in it I been chewing with my mouth open before she was out of the Soviet Union. - Why I shouldn’t be eating so much goddamn bacon. I said, “Woman, we live in Bacon Level and it’s a goddamn Alabama tradition, dagnamit!” - That she wants to see the world and we should travel more and she wants to go to Paris. I said, “Woman, why d’you wanna go see Paris? It’s shit, dagnamit!” - That I should be more culturally sensitive and more open to other ethnicities, like Parisians. I bought her a baguette last night to try and shut her up, but she only seems more set on going. Why does she even want to go there? They all speak French! All I know is “bognor regis” and “mercy bo-peep”. - That my grunting when I’m eating makes her “nauseas”, whatever that is. - That my belching when drinking beer is also making her “nauseas”, dagnamit. - That I should stop saying “dagnamit” so much and lay off the other “colloquial” curse words to “diss” people out. Now, I tolerate the wife. But I realised it was time to exert my manly presence in the marriage, dagnamit. So I went out and bought a brand new gas-guzzler truck and cowboy boots with the plan to drive her on down to my favourite diner as a treat on the house (me). Well, she went apeshit when she saw the truck. It only cost $20,000 what’s her problem, dagnamit? Well, she says that could have taken us on holiday to, you guessed it, goddamn Paris and its goddamn baguettes, dagnamit. What in the name of God do I do to get this woman to shut up? Much obliged, Gerald
Hi, Gerald. Part of being in a relationship is to respect and understand other people’s needs.
Self-awareness is important for this. Such as if you accidentally run over a neighbour whilst you’re drink driving—you shouldn’t blame your partner. Man up and accept responsibility.
With regard to nagging, from our experience we find the naggee often has a reason to go about nagging.
However, and tragically, some people are naggeroholics. This merciless addiction shreds the afflicted individual of every sense of positivity.
Luckily, Professional Moron has devised a cure for this to try post-haste.
Handbagging
Purchase in bulk at least 1,500 handbags. You’ll need about $30,000 spare for this so, obviously, if you’re poor you’re doomed to a life of nagging.
Once you have the handbags, carry several with you at all times. Thusly, when your wife next nags you over something (say, you leave toenail clippings in the bed), reach over, grab a handbag, and offer it to her. This will lead to a cessation of her nagging.
Whilst this solution may revel in obnoxious gender stereotypes, if your human female does love handbags then it should work fine.
However, this is a costly cure-all. Be aware that once you run out of handbags, the nagging will commence as before—and unabated.
So once you’ve used up the world’s supply of handbags, you’ll have to consider divorce proceedings.
Or, you know, just rectify your oafish behaviour so you’re not so self-absorbed.
I can add, as a Frenchwoman, that never a single Frenchman can understand: “bognor regis” and “mercy bo-peep”. Maybe he means: hello and thank you very much? (bonjour / merci beaucoup ? )
But nothing could be less certain.
In my country, to solve couples’ problems, our solution is cheaper: we offer a glass of wine: “Here, darling, here’s a glass of wine.” And it works. It works both ways, a wife calms down her husband who wanted to go to the football instead of seeing her buddies, a husband calms down a wife who wanted to see her buddies instead of being at the stadium.
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Glass of wine, eh? Mercy bo-peep. As an individual with a desperately low IQ, I try my best to help these agony aunters. But, alas, I often feel like I jjust destroy lives entirely. Perhaps I’ll go with the wine option from now on.
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It works.
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Bognor regis.
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😀
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As a closet nagger I’ve secretly been attending. NA with no result. A nasty drunk too so the wine is a bad choice.
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I’m British, so I love complaining. They should offer degrees on it, I’d be an excellent professor of complaints. A PhD in finding fault with stuff.
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I know, I was thinking that. Professor Curmudgeon.
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I could setup a separate site: Professional Whinge. Or just dedicate a feature to complaining. Or just not bother with either due to apathy.
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Do the complaining thing I have lots of material.
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You should go into standup. Become the next Billy Connolly.
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I don’t have shoulders for it.
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Buy some, then. Or steal some!
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I have a friend who has several hundred shoulder pads from the 70’s along with elephant leg jeans, I can do this.
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Elephant leg jeans are flares, right?
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If you set them afire yeah.
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