I don't get why DH ("Damn, he's not Hawkeye" [the Avenger(played by Jeremy Renner...mmm...)] always gets himself in a tizzy when I suggest that he do something a different way. It's not like I'm telling him he's doing it wrong (he is, but I'm not TELLING him that, right?). And it isn't like there aren't a million ways to do things. But things get done better when you do it my way.
Case in point: loading the dishwasher. Do you HAVE to scrub all the crap off your dishes before you load them? Not at all, especially if you have one of those fancy new-fangled pieces of shit that cost an arm and beat the shit out of your dishes (or something...how the hell do I know what goes on in there?). BUT (yes, I like caps lock. FOR EMPHASIS. Get it?) I soak the dishes, I scrub the crap off, sometimes I even break a freaking nail or get one of those under-the-nail cuts (motherFUCKER, those hurt) from picking dried-on crap off of plates. (Oh, don't look at me like that. Like you've never left dishes in the sink. And if you never have, you're welcome to bring your sanctimonious ass over to my house and do my dishes. Whore.) And loading the dishwasher is a game of Tetris that I ROCK.
Anyway, when I do the dishes, they come out clean. DH, on the other hand, picks them up out of the sink, places them wherever in the dishwasher, and if they don't fit, screw 'em. And because we don't have one of those new-fangled pieces of shit, they come out with caked-on bullshit. Then I end up sticking them BACK in the dishwasher after DS ("Damn, he'll be lucky to Survive till he's 14") empties it. Usually right when company is over and I need every plate in the cabinet. Yeah, we use the heat setting, the dishes are supposed to be sterilized, blah, blah, does anyone actually want to eat off of a plate that has gunk on it? Even sterilized gunk? Nope. My way is better.
Second point. DD ("Darling Drama queen") is a drama queen. Despite being very no-nonsense, "that's bullshit, knock it off" parents, DD likes to burst into tears at the slightest provocation. Or at least whine like a four year old (which she is, so as much as I would like to, I can't fault her for it). Brushing her hair is an exercise in whining. When I do it, I gather the hair at the back of her neck, and while holding the ponytail, brush it from bottom to top. She still gives the occasional "ow" but for the most part, she deals. DH? Well, she usually ends up running away. After grabbing the brush away from him. I'm surprised she doesn't smack him with it. See? My way = better.
It's not like I'm perfect. Just better at some things. And come on, it's not like I tell DH that he's programming that weird-looking line of gobbledygook wrong. I don't know shit about computers. But he likes to tell me I'm mean because I'm strict with the kids at school.
Trust me. My way is better.