My friend is married to the king of all douche canoes.* She was recently venting to me about him over drinks and I could tell there was an expectation for me to join in with some bitching about my own husband. I couldn’t really think of anything and kept my trap shut while nodding my head in sympathy. I drove home thinking how lucky I was to have the Serb. Then I decided there was room for improvement, after going for a midnight tinkle and being greeted with this:

My worst middle-of-the-night nightmare.

Don’t get me wrong, the Serb is nowhere near douche canoe territory; however, when I put my mind to it I was able to come up with a few areas of improvement:

Toilet Paper Trauma
While on the subject of toilet paper, it should be noted that the Serb will retrieve a new roll when it suits his needs, and yet it never seems to make it onto the roll holder thingy. If I don’t change the roll it will remain on the sink ledge until it’s also empty, only to be replaced with a new roll…on the ledge. One time I let the empty toilet paper rolls sit on the ledge to see how many would pile up before he replaced them. We ended up with a team of cardboard foosball players.

The proof is in the paper.

Booze Wars
We are fans of red wine; so much so that we bought wine glasses that resemble fish bowls. We can never agree on who is guzzling the most hooch. He insists that I’m matching him glass for glass, but it’s our perception of what constitutes “a glass” of wine that seems to differ:

Guess which one Boozy McDrunkerson poured?

Laundry Litter
Although the NBA won’t be scouting the Serb any time soon, when it comes to his aim, the dude’s got game. He was once a very highly regarded water polo player back in the old country, and water polo is basically basketball played in a pool. This is why it boggles my mind that a man who can throw a ball into a net while wearing a Speedo and treading water can’t manage to hit the laundry basket with his ginch as he walks into the bathroom.

So close, yet...not really.

Recycling as Art
The Serb and I are engaged in an epic battle of balance. Rather than walking to the garage to empty our recycling into the bigger bin, we pile up our containers and cans until our recycling bin looks like something from Tetris.

Saturday.

Tuesday.

Friday. (Don't judge my Coolwhip...the soup underneath was organic so it all evens out.)

Fridge Blindness/Deafness
The Serb loves asking me to find him things in the fridge after insisting he’s already looked, without success. This, my friends, is bullsh*t. Usually, he hasn’t even set foot in the kitchen, or else he’s opened the fridge, glanced briefly at the top shelf, and then given up. Either way, it drives me bonkers because he often interrupts me when I’m doing something important. Like Tweeting.

"Where's that leftover Spanikopita? I don't see it."

"Yes, I checked behind the hummus! It's not there!"

"Whatever. It must've been way in the back."

"Really?"

Another classic is when he leaves empty milk in the fridge. Our milk comes in clear plastic bags, so there’s no excuse for not seeing that only 2 tablespoons of milk remain (yes, I measured and yes, I realize that this entire thing says more about me than him).

*Don’t worry, [insert every friend’s name here], I didn’t mean you.