ridiculous topics for marital rows

Whether or not to buy some little terracotta pots to keep herbs in.

I made DH cry

snot the answer to your spoonyfucker dh is simple. Put un unreasonable amount of salt in his dinner only, make a face and sweetly enquire whether he added any salt. Then smugly enjoy yours, as he ploughs through his thinking it was his fault it's so inedible.

Wilson Mary Stuart Masterson isn't in
Children of a Lesser God! It's Marlee Matlin. But your row is hilarious anyway

Mike Flowers Pops. And whether or not their version of Wonderwall was the original. 18 or whatever years later and I am still seething .

What powers of constitution the queen actually has. Dh maintained that she can declare war, sack prime ministers, revoke laws etc but just chooses not to. There was shouting and insults.Worst row we've ever had.

What my car's name is. My car has a name, DH does not get to choose the name of my car as well as his own.

This is great.

Pronunciation of bury. (I say berry and he says burry) didn't talk for a week without cats bum mouth.
Wensleydale and Madeira cake.He has walked out of shops (leaving me and in the case of cheese-bil, sil, dd and dn) after huge row ( as it is patently my fault) that tesco didn't have said products in. ( he didn't get the fact that as we were in Scotland Wensleydale wasn't as ubiquitous as it is in the north east.) for the cake we went to sainsbos across the road and did the exact same shop.
Decorating-he wasted three lengths if wallpaper insisting the pattern had to match horizontally. It was striped vertically.

I seem to remember from my House Orderly badge at Brownies, that dishes should be washed in the following order

Glasses
Side plates
Cups
Cutlery
Dinner plates
Pots and pans

Ha. Recycling. Do not get me started. Oh, well, do then.

Two years we have lived here. Two years under the same Council with the same recycling rules. Only plastic allowed is plastic bottles. No plastic pots, tubs or containers.

If I'm here, every single time he has something plastic to throw, DP will head off to the recycling bin going, 'they can recycle this, can't they?' No, DP, no plastics. 'But there's bottles in here!' 'They only do plastic bottles.'

We have had this conversation roughly 2,037,456 times. I have also - helpfully - bluetacked the Council's recycling leaflet with their graphic depiction of what can and cannot go in above the recycling bin.

But woe betide the recycling if I'm not here and he is 'independently' putting stuff in there. Every single time I put the recycling out I have to fish through it for (dirty) yoghurt pots, pizza boxes with plastic lids ('but it's mostly cardboard!' 'yes, DP, and I'm mostly water but that doesn't make me the Sargasso f*cking sea'), and even - good GOD - catalogues and bits of the Sunday papers still in their plastic wrapping.

Cue WW3 with him saying he doesn't know why I get so het up, and me sobbing about the poor children in China who have to sort through his rubbish because he's too effin' thick/lazy to take a plastic wrapper off...often I manage to chunk up from this to the fundamental lack of respect it shows me, lack of attention, he never listens, blah, sob, blah, sob...

We're moving in a few weeks. To a different Council. They have TWO separate recycling bins, including one for plastic pots/tubs/containers. My blood is already running cold. He's going to a) smarm 'I TOLD you plastic could be recycled' and b) still put it in the wrong effin bin.

Breathe...

We have had a massive row about what constitutes undertaking on the motorway. Didn't talk for a large portion of the trip after that one. Still don't agree on it.

Regularly argue about stupid bullshit, including the ongoing question of how clean plastic containers need to be in order to be put in the recyling bin, what order the dishes should be washed up in etc.

Oops, baby is breastfeeding and just kicked my phone!

A sigh of RELIEF, obviously.

I am vwry late to this party, but it really has made me laugh, and breathe a sigh of re

Springoniongate

DH is tight. After an hour of 'ooooh are we sure?' during a grocery shop, I flung four bunches of spring onions at his head, one at a time, and flounced out of the shop.

This was pre-kids and about ten years ago. We still don't really mention it.

We had a mahoosive row about whether the dc should have ice cream for pudding after ploughing through stew & dumplings. He flounced off with the dogs then had to break a pane of glass in the front door cos he forgot to take his keys while stropping off.

As for the hypothetical euro millions win, he wants to buy a massive state-of-the-art airship for parties etc. No fucking way! The insanity!

Oh I had forgotten the 'no fruit in a savoury dish' row.

One day ON THE BACK OF DH MOANING ABOUT US ALWAYS EATING THE SAME 10 MEALS I mentioned on the phone to him that I was going to try a Moroccon chicken dish in the Tagine that I had urgently needed to buy 2 years prior but never used

Spent all day slaving over cous cous, following the chicken/apricot/spices recipie to a tee, dips etc.

DH walks through the door in a grump because he's had a shit day at work.

I produce Tagine, and with a flourish, whip of the lid, to which DH remarks.

"Fucking great. My pudding is in my dinner".

Livid does not even come close.

Things were said that night that have never quite been forgotten.

after 6 years, today we went to ikea for the first time to buy some lamps. I hate sitting in bright light. Got to ikea and he turned into a child. Shone lights into my eyes and rode the trolley.... I accused him of not taking our home furnishings seriously and burst into tears. Totally hormonal. And when I found out he'd put a set of measuring spoons into the trolley without my permission and a plug timer, oooooh...

We are never going back.

Although he did buy me pick n mix...

Oh we row about bacon too. Because I like my meat nicely cooked and he wants his gently warmed with a blanket made of unicorn hair so it's still oinking in between his bread.

We once argued over whether educational fundraising was easier in the UK or US - involved tears and shouting.

In a restaurant in Tunisia over a delicious dinner a screeching row about the lyrics of Dire Straits Romeo And Juliet.

Oh Christ. We're going to ikea tomorrow... And getting married next week

I'm doomed aren't i?

Our best row was on nye about a sodding taxi driver who kept saying he was 5 minutes away. I blamed stbdh. Fun start to 2013!

We once argued over whether educational fundraising was easier in the UK or US - involved tears and shouting.

Thought of another one.

We also have the issue with "what do you want for dinner" but it goes further. I go to pains to make meal plans, get them agreed with DH and then buying all the groceries.

So when he then tells me (on his night to cook no less) that he isn't hungry or just wants a sandwich, I get the rage that I'm not going to be having my planned dinner.

I also get the rage when I'm cooking a planned dinner and he changes it. "Oh you are doing a roast? Ill have my chicken with baguette and chips".

RAGE!!

Whether bacon was or was not cooked properly.

There were tears involved.

Have women or men had the hardest deal over the whole of history?

Dh vehemently believes men have had the hardest time because they have had to go to war. I think all childbearing issues and sexism trump this umptillion tines over.