Let’s be real people, we all know there are multiple versions of ourselves and our loved ones. At least if we’re perfectly honest with ourselves, there are. For example, you may find yourself acting differently at a party with your lifelong friends opposed to say the first time you have dinner with a new boss. In this case, this poor wife was fully aware of her husbands potential for dumbassery; it’s no secret to her. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him or he isn’t a good husband. It just means he may not be particularly well versed for formal situations, especially with your new boss. Our friend defenestrate_me_now shared the hilarious tale on Reddit, and for that, we thank you, sir.
“I really am a clutz… right honey?… (no help coming from that direction)”
Last night, my wife’s boss from her brand new job invited us over for dinner. On the drive over, my wife reiterated many times to me just how important it was to make a good impression.
I scoffed and arrogantly informed my silly wife that I always make good impressions.
My wife’s boss is a single lady in her fifties, so it was just the three of us. We chitchatted over drinks and salads and seemed to really be hitting it off. She laughed at my well-timed, perfectly-appropriate jokes and my wife seemed pleased.
Soon she brought out the main course, a nice big juicy steak for each of us. As I began to cut into my steak, I was discouraged to discover how under cooked this steak was.
Now, I’ve had my fair share of rare steak. I prefer medium, but I can handle rare. This was several-minutes-on-a-hot-grill short of rare. I probably could’ve resuscitated the cow had I tried. Instead, I sat there fidgeting with my knife and fork, worrying about how I was going to get away with not eating this steak.
Claim vegan-ism? No, I’d already feigned great enthusiasm upon seeing the steak.
Just then, our hostess excused herself to the kitchen to take care of some dessert preparations. As I looked across the fancy dining room table at the open window of this 3rd story apartment… a cartoon light bulb appeared over my head.
I knew I had to be decisive, realizing that she could return at any moment. I committed. I grabbed the steak with my hand, gently shook off the juice and executed a perfect throw right through the center of the open window.
Here’s the big time FU. The window wasn’t open. It was the cleanest fricking window you’ve ever seen in your life. That is, until my mostly raw slab of steak slammed up against it and slowly slid down leaving a trail of bloody juice in its wake…