#onthisday #FYP

Ask him about his work wife. Oh, she hasn't told you about her yet? Or, you get yourself a blue-collar guy and you don't worry about it. My work wife's name is Joey. He's a 38-year-old combat veteran with mild PTSD and a general hatred for other people. Our romance is fueled off of nicotine, caffeine, and the general hatred that two co-workers can have for another co-worker. We used to call him Fat Joey. Then he had gastric bypass surgery and lost a lot of weight, so now we just call him Joey. And, of course, I got all the clothes that don't fit him no more. Most of the time, monsters are buy-two-get-one-free, so you can guarantee who's getting that third one. If you're ever hungry at work and go, I could eat a large pizza, but I probably shouldn't, Joey's your man. 25% of our day is actually just spent quoting movie quotes and yelling at each other. You boys like Mexico! I'm kind of a big deal. People know me. And our musical taste will go from Backstreet Boys to Tyler Childers, back to Backstreet Boys and Run-D.M.C. Don't forget to throw in the classic Disney hits as well. Marriages are built off of trust, and I trust and love my wife, but Joey's like number four on the list. Ladies, stop worrying about what your man's doing at work, because I promise you, if you think we're stupid at the house, just wait till we get around our buddies.