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Ok, so your wife drags you out clothes shopping, you get into the Banana Boston Gap Republic Store of Bad Fashion Ideas or whatever the hell it’s called, and just before she disappears into the dressing room for 6 freakin’ hours, she hands you her purse and says “go sit down over there, I’ll just be a minute”.
Let’s talk about “over there”.
Is there a special name for that thing upon which unfortunate men must perch?
The Penalty Box?
The Bench of Boredom?
The Chair of Despair?
Come on guys, help me out. I know you’ve had to do time there. What’s that thing called?
Tied up to the Whipped Post.
I think it’s called ‘advertising’. My wife knows to look ‘there’ when casing the joint: more bored husbands, the better the bargains. 🙁
Ol’ Ball ‘n Chain Chair
Purgatory
No Man’s Land
The Dead Zone
Happy Bored Place.
Deliverance.
Lesser Of Two Evils Land.
It is sooo much better than standing there in the store answering the “does this make me look (name your personal hell here)”?
Foreplay.
I find that when I’m sitting there, it’s usually referred to as the “peanut gallery,” from which no commentary is expected.
It’s called the “Chair Where I Hold the Purse That Contains My Testicles.”
Chair from which you may view asses not quite so fat as your wife’s.
A View To A Kill
I wouldn’t take my husband along while I shop for clothes for love nor money. Why do your women want you people along? What do you do when left alone that she feels she must keep you in sight?
GrannyBoo’s right. No way would I ever take my husband clothes shopping. It would almost be more painful for me than for him. That’s my happy time place! What have you done that makes your wife want you along?!?!?!
I never go clothes shopping with my wife. Ever!
Problem solved.
The limp bench !!!!
Some Place You Won’t Find Me
~P&B~
“The pit of despair”
Although if she is shopping in Victoria’s Secret I will go along.
The “you just HAD to get married, didn’t you? Loser” box.
SHOP ONLY AT TOP END BOUTIQUES OR RESALE!
The real top end (bespoke tailors, exclusive designers) give free drinks. I mean it – I got completely shi faced one afternoon following around the woman who was to become my ex-wife in the Galleria here in Houston.
On the other hand, it’s possible to buy EVERYTHING THAT STRIKES YOUR FANCY at a resale shop and still come home with change from a twenty-dollar bill.
When your lady-friend wants to go shopping, bring a Gameboy along.
Problem solved.
Here in Texas we don’t have to hold the wive’s handbags. Or so I told my wife shortly after we moved here, and she agreed (in a stunned kind of way). King of the Hill is fictional, by the way. And that place I sit while she is shopping? It is called Hooters.
So while sitting at The Bench of Despair, do you keep the purse in the position next to you on the bench or under the bench like your sitting on it?
Btw, I solved this problem long ago when I got bored and wondered off leaving the purse to fend for itself for a few hours. Never was trusted with the purse again.
Many of the better malls have sports bars. The men that have a pair are in there. Everyone else is in the scrotless corner.
But lets face, fellas: More time spent on the bench equates less time sleepin’ on the couch. Besides, it’s not as though we wouldn’t be sitting on our ever-widening asses somewhere else…
And this is why department stores should have beer vending machines outside the dressing rooms.
I wouldn’t bring my husband with me to pick out clothes. I would, however bring him with me to pick out lingerie.
“Does this make me look fat?”
“Nope, it makes you look HOT!!!”
“I’ll take this one then… Honey, how fast can you drive home?”
I solved the problem of my fiance wanting to drag me along shopping all the time by proving to her that her having me along for the “ride” would embarass her more than me having to hold her purse.
Here is how it was done:
(Me + makeup + three other husbands in similar situations + their children + store windows)/ADHD * 30 minutes = fun with drawing
she has not asked me to come shopping since
My husband will go special-occasion clothes shopping with me (like formal dresses), but if I want to go into a random store “just to check it out”, he gets banished to the nearest electronics or book aisle.
It’s actually more painful to go grocery shopping with him than clothes shopping, if you can believe that. I suppose it’s because I hate clothes shopping, too, and we can commiserate. 🙂
And he always carries his Nintendo DS in his pocket. Never leave home without it!
The “What’s the friggin’ difference – you look fat in all of them…what’s that? You’re sorry I came? That makes two of us…when’s your sister’s baby shower? I wouldn’t wanna miss that!” Bench.
I have an extraordinarily large amount of my treasure confiscated from me monthly not to endure such punishment. Its almost worth it!
HOW.LONG.HAVE.YOU.BEEN.MARRIED?
And before you answer that please note that if x>2 then the question seriously outed you before any of the answers ever showed up.
One of God’s greatest blessings to me was to give me two daughters who love to accompany their mother on shopping trips and to the movies. I haven’t been inside a mall or movie theatre in over five years.
It’s called The “you knew what you were getting into so suck it up” Bench.
As revenge, take her to ACO on Saturday morning.
“How can you spend an hour looking at bolts?”
“These aren’t any bolts – these are toggle bolts!”
The Guy Chair (lame, I know)
Some are actually quite comfortable. I’ve been known to doze off while my wife tries on half the store–only to walk away with nothing.
But after 12 years of marriage… You get used to it. Especially if there’s a reward later.
The spot where you’ll be watching all of the smokin’ hot underage chicks from.
The Bench of Shame
When we were younger, my wife (one of the last of the “farmer’s daughters”) actually asked what they were for or made mention of the chair that used to be strategically place outside of the women’s dressing room in most department stores (you still see a few, today… though the “mall bench” has generally replaced them.)
I used to jokingly call them the “ol’ farts chair” because it was usually the older guys or the woman’s child that was sentenced to them. The younger guys, back then, wouldn’t be caught dead in one.
The Irony is at the rate my knee’s are going I too will eventually be consigned to the ol’ farts chair…
p.s. To all those downing the married guys, I can sympathize w/ your frustration. There just aren’t many more farmer’s daughters.
I want a farmer’s daughter! After all those jokes I’ve heard over the years, it seems like I’m missing out on something…
I’ll echo Mike and Humble Servant, in my case from the perspective of a fifty-five-year-old lifelong bachelor who knows that his “relationships” are doomed in any event. In my case, it’s called “the bar at Chili’s”, or “the tool corral at Home Depot”, or maybe even “the hardware department at Sears”. Silicon Valley, as far as I know, doesn’t have a Hooters, although, incredibly, San Francisco does; I wonder who eats/drinks there? On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know.
Yeah, it’s called “Heaven”. If you’re me. Which you’re not.
It’s only because I have a mobile phone (with internet access to google.com/reader)
The: ‘Has optimistic view of future sexual rewards’ bench.
The seat of defeat
How about “bizarro bench” The only place where a guy can be holding a purse and he’s doing his duty, not being John Edwards-like.
39 comments, and no one has called it the “Group W” bench?
The Fool Stool.
The Void.
The Penalty Box.