Some men have a hard time getting it up. I get it... I've seen the commercials. Blood pressure medication, low testosterone, stress, a wife who has let herself go... many factors affect a man's ability to "get it up". Thankfully, PilotHusband does NOT have that problem (the capitals are used at his request). However, PilotHusband has a huge problem getting it in... and I blame Mother D!
You see, once upon a time, PilotHusband used to be a 737 Captain, flying to tropical islands and resorts in South America. His aircraft had a tiller on both sides of the cockpit, allowing both the Captain and the First Officer to taxi to the gate. But at Mother D, the tiller is only on the Captain's side. Given that PilotHusband is a First Officer, he can bring a wide body home from Europe (over the frozen North Atlantic) and land it (greasing it on every time), but he cannot bring it all the way in to the gate. Therefore, he has developed a significant problem with "getting it in".
Late last night, PilotHusband finished drinking a gallon of milk (straight from the container). Rather than put it in the trash can, he left it on the counter.
When he got home from his trip, rather than put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, he dropped them on the floor, just 10 feet away.
After PilotHusband finished his dinner, he left his dirty plate on the counter, rather than putting it in the sink (or, God Forbid, the dishwasher).
PilotHusband is very anal about oral care. (I only phrased it that way to see what sort of freaks would find this site after a Google search of those two words) Anyway, he flosses his teeth several times a day, but can never get the used floss in the trash can.
Given that we usually enter the house through the garage door, I built an elaborate cubby system to store our shoes. Sadly, PilotHusband cannot get his shoes in a cubby. Instead, I find them in front of doorways, under the coffee table, or strewn about the house.
Sometimes I wish PilotHusband had a problem "getting it up". Then all it would take is a little blue pill to fix the problem. Sadly, there is no cure for a man who cannot get it in.
You see, once upon a time, PilotHusband used to be a 737 Captain, flying to tropical islands and resorts in South America. His aircraft had a tiller on both sides of the cockpit, allowing both the Captain and the First Officer to taxi to the gate. But at Mother D, the tiller is only on the Captain's side. Given that PilotHusband is a First Officer, he can bring a wide body home from Europe (over the frozen North Atlantic) and land it (greasing it on every time), but he cannot bring it all the way in to the gate. Therefore, he has developed a significant problem with "getting it in".
Late last night, PilotHusband finished drinking a gallon of milk (straight from the container). Rather than put it in the trash can, he left it on the counter.
When he got home from his trip, rather than put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, he dropped them on the floor, just 10 feet away.
After PilotHusband finished his dinner, he left his dirty plate on the counter, rather than putting it in the sink (or, God Forbid, the dishwasher).
PilotHusband is very anal about oral care. (I only phrased it that way to see what sort of freaks would find this site after a Google search of those two words) Anyway, he flosses his teeth several times a day, but can never get the used floss in the trash can.
Given that we usually enter the house through the garage door, I built an elaborate cubby system to store our shoes. Sadly, PilotHusband cannot get his shoes in a cubby. Instead, I find them in front of doorways, under the coffee table, or strewn about the house.
Sometimes I wish PilotHusband had a problem "getting it up". Then all it would take is a little blue pill to fix the problem. Sadly, there is no cure for a man who cannot get it in.
Laughing so hard I fell off the sofa! Perhaps we should contact the union and file a complaint that inadequate equipment is forcing first officers to need retraining to maintain proficiency in getting it "in".
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