More reasons why the woman I married should be locked up.

Since I've already outed her as an obsessive penny-scrubber, I figured I'd just keep the "Weird Wife" train a-rolling along and give you a few more reasons why Sally, love her as I do, is just plain the strangest woman walking the planet. She's stranger than most of the wheelchair-bound women out there rolling the planet as well.

Here are a few reasons why, in no particular order.

1) She laughs for 40 minutes straight.

You might not think that this is strange at first glance, so let me be more specific. When I say "she laughs" I don't mean "she titters," or "she sniffles," or "she giggles a little." I mean she sends small animals running for cover by making a sound something like a jet engine humping a pack of hyenas to death. (Those of you who have heard Sally laugh know what I'm talking about. She could raise the dead with her laugh. She could shred wallpaper at 100 yards.) If you're picturing a sound (how do you picture a sound?) that is in any way irritating, you're on the wrong track. Despite the fact that it sends your skeleton shooting straight out of your body, people absolutely love Sal's laugh, because it is such an expression of unbridled and unashamed joy. It's a terrible and awesome thing, and may just be one of my very favorite things about her. One of these days I'll capture it and post it here on the internet for you all to experience.

Also, when I say "she laughs for 40 minutes," I mean "she laughs at the same single thing." And it's usually something stupid, like a fart joke. For 40 minutes.

For example, the other night we were watching some show on the Food Network, and they were giving us an in depth look into a crouton factory. (yep, every night is a slow news night at the Food Network.) At one point the announcer made the grave mistake of referring to the croutons as "crusty chunks." Instantly the cats bolted from the room at the sound of a hundred moose being shredded in a wood chipper. Sal squealed and hooted at "crusty chunks" for the remainder of the program. At one point she even commandeered the Tivo remote to back the show up and hear the guy say "crusty chunks" five more times. I can't tell you how often this happens. the worst part is that after a good 20 minutes of honking and squealing, there will be a few minutes of perfect silence and stillness, and you'll think the fit has finally ended. Wrong! She's just lulling you into a false sense of security! Just when you are sure she's settled down, and are about to say something sweet and loving to her, that's when the hooting starts up again. She will squeal on and off again at the very same stupid thing for the rest of the night if you let her.

I happen to love the sound of her laughter. So of course, I let her.

2) She plays with the cats.

Again, it takes some specification to make it clear why this is strange. When I say "plays," I mean "engages in bizarre torture rituals that would make Joseph Mengele proud." One of her favorite games to play with the cats is the "My Little Pony" game. This game consists of Sally suddenly enveloping the entire face of one of our cats in her palm and yelling "My Little Pony!!!" If I had a million years I couldn't explain to you why she does this or what it means. Another thing she likes to do is pick up one of the cats and flip it around on her lap until it is sitting upright with its legs stuck out, like a person would. Then she grabs its paws and pretends it is driving a car. She forces these poor cats to steer, honk the horn, roll down the window (apparently our cats have never heard of power windows) and adjust the mirrors.

She likes to take Einstein, or biggest, fattest, fluffiest cat and dry-mop the kitchen floor with him. She hangs clothespins on Booger, the youngest. She pulls on their whiskers and tails. She likes to grab their back paws and squeal while they try to run away.

In case all this sounds like cruelty, you should know that the cats love it. I swear they do. Purring galore. This is proof that a) my wife is crazy, and b) so are my cats.

3) She is a 12-year-old boy.

Fortunately for me and my ongoing campaign to not go to jail, she is not really a 12-year-old boy. At least, not on the outside. She has the requisite boobies and appropriate genitalia that distinguish her as a fully grown adult woman. (I've checked.) However, if you were to have her conduct an interview over the phone with a psychologist, and you were to disguise her voice like they do on Dateline when they interview convicted rapists, I promise you the psychologist would walk away convinced he or she had been speaking to a 12-year-old boy.

Why, you ask? Well, her sense of humor is (fortunately for me) somewhat unrefined. I remember years ago we watched the very first episode of South Park together. For 12 minutes, she sat there stone-faced, emitting not a single laugh. She turned to me and said "I don't think this show is very funny." Then fire erupted from Cartman's ass and she rolled around the apartment screaming and clutching her belly for the rest of the night.

Biting brilliant satire? Lost on her.

Fire out of the ass? Priceless.

This is the woman who still laughs every time I fart. And since I am, as Karla pointed out, "an anally obsessed fartbag," I fart a lot. Her favorite words are "booger," "turds" and "taint." One time at the supermarket we came across a knife labeled "6 inch boner" and she fell over laughing and was inconsolable for 12 minutes.

Of course, so was I. I mean, "6-inch boner" is pretty fucking funny.

She's perfect for a disgusting guy like me, though... Here's an actual Googletalk conversation we had:

Me: twatfingers
Sally: thickened stump
Me: fudgenuckles
Sally: feces-cano
Me: Mt. St. Fistula
Sally: pus-filled labia
Me: nose pringles
Sally: dong jerky
Me: trouser bubbles
Sally: velcro boogers
Me: uterine drip
Sally: drippy jello squirts
Me: riding the hershey hurricane
Sally: poo-chunk hairball dingles
Me: fork-tender bun-biscuits
Sally: bubbly loaf of yeast infection
Me: WOW. Holy shit you win.

I stand in complete and utter awe of this woman.

And for those of you imagining her as a cursing, feces throwing cavewoman, yes, she's completely capable of behaving normally in polite society. Um... unlike me.