Writer - Jimmy Pappas
I just can't understand women, no matter how hard I try. Mrs. Jimmy and I were preparing to go to a PTA meeting when what does she tell me? Don't embarrass me this time. Like how did I embarrass her? All I did was tell everyone how Little Jimmy got thrown out of social studies for farting in class. What was I supposed to do, lie about it? No way. I'm a proud Pop.
So this time I hatched a plan to make Mrs. Jimmy stand up and recognize her husband for what he is: a creative genius. I noticed that Valentine's Day was coming up, so I made a white tee shirt with a bright red heart sewn right over the center. My idea was to make a whole bunch of these shirts and sell them at a small profit to make money for the school.
Great idea, huh? Yeah, that's what I thought too. But go figure. So we're at the meeting, and I'm wearing my best Grateful Dead tie, looking mighty fine if I do say so myself, waiting for the right moment to raise my hand. The time came, and I gestured to the PTA president. Mrs. Jimmy looked at me in shock and whispered, What the hell are you doing? I gave her The Palm to tell her it's all under control, took a last sip of water, stood up, gave a slight cough (just for a little extra effect), and spread my feet about six inches apart so as not to jump around (you can tell I really had my act together) and in a loud, clear voice I said, Well, I always celebrate Valentine's Day with a heart on.
Next thing I knew, all pandemonium broke loose in the room. Mrs. Jimmy grabbed my shirt and pulled me down in my chair. I can't believe you just said that. And I was like, What? I haven't finished yet. And she replied, Oh, you're finished all right. So there you have it. I've been in the Doghouse for two weeks now wondering what I did wrong and as confused as ever about what the heck is rattling around in a woman's mind.