Tag Archives: Dagmar

Ah Sunday, relaxing Sund … A lesson in reading your spouses insane side.


Are you the early riser in your house?  If so you and I have something in common.

Go us!

You and I look forward to the few peaceful moments that come with getting out of bed early and enjoy the  precious few quiet moments we have in alone in the house.   If you watch TV in the morning you’re careful to monitor the volume.  You might even be selective about which lights you turn on in order to not disturb the other sleeping people in the house.

You’re, like I, am trying to milk every precious second out of the serene, tranquil morning that you can.*

I like to turn the coffee pot on, tip-toe into the living room and, because I live in Europe and get the American Forces Network on my TV, watch yesterday’s evening news – this morning, while surfing on the iPad.

Weekdays I get a half an hour tops.

But on weekends I typically get a lot more.   So much so that I might even, don’t tell the wife, take a quick 15 to 30 minute nap.   Because life in the 40’s is just that fucking exciting!  Don’t tell the kids …

Then two hours later she wakes up and berates me, while wiping the sleep from her eyes, for not having done ‘anything’ for the past few hours.

Read that last bit again, I’ll wait.

I, fool that I am, thought this Sunday would be like all the others.   True my suspicions should have been ‘hyper-level 10 million level’ when she not only woke up at the same time I did but literally ‘feet hit the floor’ before mine.

Still though no cause to worry, right?

I drifted down stairs to find her brewing tea and the coffee pot already on.

Full-disclosure, though I am awake earlier it does not mean I am in any way capable of making a decision more important than, “should I scratch my crotch or not” for at least 4 cups of coffee and/or 30 minutes.

But not Dagmar, oh no, not her.

She can go from dead asleep to let’s go run a marathon.  Literally, let’s go run, put your stuff on, screw it lets just run in our pajamas, come on let’s go, let’s go!

Her, and you people that are like her, scare me deep, deep inside.   I cannot understand you and I’d be sympathetic if I wasn’t so full of rage toward you.    Slow the fuck down Sparky, we got the whole day ahead of us.

Normally after this many years my morning ritual, when she sees it, is

Well who needs coffee now?

My mornings are … wait huh. Okay I had a point when I start … boobies. Photo shamelessly ripped from Newscorpse.com

respected.   I’m afforded an opportunity to drink coffee, blow my nose, scratch my crotch and make sneering gestures at Fox news anchor Sheppard Smith (an unfortunate consequence of AFN is that during the 6 to 7 a.m. time period it’s him or Piers Morgan – even in my foggy state I pick Sheppard over Piers because Piers just sucks. Plus side note, I predict it’s only a matter of time before Sheppard is caught having dude-on-dude sex somewhere embarrassing, like Florida.  Side note to the side note if you Google “fox news anchor” and select images (if you’re a guy) you’ll thank me … hello ladies!).

And that’s how I overcame my addiction to methamphetamines using nothing but a case of motor oil and a stick of butter.

See what I did there?  I used a joke about getting off track to refer back to the getting off track so we could get back on track.   I’m a geniou … maybe I should just get back on track?

So there I am on the couch yesterday morning, hot and first cup of coffee in hand and there Dagmar is with her cup of tea (when did you become British for the love of God?).  Typical morning really only she’s up of her own volition and the sun isn’t – which tells me something is afoot.

Then it happens, then the statement is made and it is matched by action.   Slamming the footrest back into the sofa without regard to ‘quiet time’ rules at all she jumped to her feet.  Her eyes were wild and her muscles seemed, at least would have seemed, were I awake, to swell.

She became Hulk-Dagmar and there would be action this Sunday morning, quiet time and coffee be damned!

It got much worse as the day went on but I couldn’t take any photos because I was holding televisions up, or something

There. Would.  Be. Action.

I think she was also wearing a green t-shirt which likely led to the hulk analogy, also I was almost asleep.

There are certain ‘thoughts’ expressed in this house that are vocalized but never really acted upon.   For instance in all our years of marriage we have never ate ‘rice and beans’ the entire month even though I’ve been told she’ll do it, she totally can do it, and if I don’t watch out, we will do it.

Hint:  She won’t but it’s fun to hear.

That’s an example of a threat that, made during a ‘discussion about money’, will never happen.  I think it’s called a Paper-Dagmar Argument or something.   I should have paid a lot more attention in class.

Then there are the others.  They’re not threats, they’re warnings.   Things we’re going to do this weekend.  “We’re going to go hike up to the castle”, “we’re going to go to Ikea”, “we’re going to clean the house to within an inch of its life” and “we’re going to go to the blah, blah, blah.”

Any husband reading this understands that probability factors in to each of these ‘statements.’   Yeah maybe we’re going to the event this weekend but you dear wife might, you might blank-percent might, change your mind.   Most of us agree (at the time) that the plan is a good one and start influencing however we can the odds back into our favor.

Our ‘favor’ is code for those of you that are interested for, ‘staying at home, drinking beer and maybe having a fire.’

It’s in the married guy’s bible, chapter II paragraph 4.5.  Look it up.

The one that scares the shit out of me though is the cleaning one.  I can’t predict it, I’m helpless when the cleaning beast rips out of her chest ala Aliens and I know it’s going to hurt me.    The cleaning one is brought up a lot but it’s usually just a light, once over the house, nothing heavy.  But once in a while I find myself moving furniture out of a room and fear for the cat’s life.

So yeah it was the cleaning one.

This is the woman that makes me lift the TV up so she can dust UNDER it.  This request is made and granted during ‘normal weekend’ cleaning.

Can you guess what deep-cleaning consists of?

She once vacuumed a large area rug then turned it upside down and vacuumed the bottom of the rug because German-Puerto Rican people are inside.

This woman once cleaned out and reorganized my toolbox because she wanted me to start a blog or because she’s just that nuts.  You pick.

Truth be known, between moving furniture and polishing the undersides of things I was allowed to listen to podcasts and at about 1 p.m. or so was authorized beer.  The warden has a heart.

To anyone, and yeah I’m looking at you, that says, “You’re the man of the house you do what you want” well I guess your situation is different than mine.   Maybe your dynamic isn’t the same as mine.   To me when she really, really fuck really, wants to do it I’m not going to stop her and I’m going to be a dick if I don’t participate.

Besides I’m too busy holding up the TV so it can be dusted under to really argue and have you MET Dagmar?

*  I have no idea how this works with kids.  I just assume they wake up, poop on themselves, set the pets on fire, eat sugar and yell.    I’m not far off am I?  I forgot only barfing right?  Oh and the cartoons.  Never forget the cartoons.

German flowers, atheists and the bathroom … an update about nothing


I just tried to revive something that was dead, well mostly dead.  It has a pulse but its faint and thread bare and any other medical-sounding terms I might have heard somewhere.

It was something I wrote a while back and didn’t upload to here cause well, it sucked.   It was written drunk, edited while sober and pronounced dead about a minute ago.

So basically this is another update where I say I got nothing.   The last time this happened I told you Condoleezza Rice was hot, and she is.

So how about a few random bits of stupid observations about stuff.

Germans, the god-damn Germans

Maybe they will pay, maybe they wont. Okay it’s Germany they will.

German’s, at least here where I live, honestly plant fields of flowers and then put a barrel (think of it as a piggy bank) on the edge of the field, with a price for each type of flower and trust the shit out of everyone.   Funny point is it works.  Germans, My non German-ass included, dutifully pay that money, even when no one is looking.   I have full faith that in America someone would drive a 4×4 into the field, and then do donuts, at night just to be a dick.  No one would pay the price and the little knives that hang on the bottom of the pricelist that are used to cut the flowers would all be stolen on day, nay, hour one.

Seriously, some farmer plants a ton of different flowers.  Puts a barrel in the field with some dull knives and gives the customer the price of each flower.   Customers here cut the flower (with or without the dull provided knife) and deposit the knife in its place and then put money in the barrel.

Someone in America given the same situation, and you know it’s true, would totally poop in the barrel after destroying the flowers, stealing all the dull knives all the while facebooking about it.

Germans are so fucking trusting you but buy into the system, fuck it 14 sunflowers cost 10 Euros and I’m the dick if I don’t pay it when no one’s looking.

Dagmar looks over 90% of these updates.

Dagmar is SO goddamn sick of my sense of humor and after this many years who can blame her?  When she reads these updates, and occasionally laughs out loud, I yell out, “what, what part was funny?”

Really I do.

Look I was an enlisted public affairs dork for the U.S. Army for 20 years.   Years ago that mean you, ‘were the editor of the base/fort/caserne/camp’s newspaper.”   So if you spelled Caseme Ederle that way (and I did) in the headline you got a lot of shit when the paper hit the street in the morning.   Dagmar understood and lay in bed with me at night copy editing, so fuck I trust her edits here.   She doesn’t make many edits here, which scares the shit out of me.

I do go back in and change shit here when I see an obvious mistake but they are mostly on 20% of the updates mainly, the ones she hasn’t seen.

Mostly.   Read that last word in voice of the little girl in the movie Alien’s II.  “They mostly edit at night, mostly.”

I’m an atheist.

I had this big-ass idea in my head about how I would ‘come out’ about my atheism and then beer happened.   There’s a lot of news right now, a lot of books, a lot of talk about atheism but really, who cares?  If you believe in a higher power, good for you!  I think you’re wrong but why should I type a lot of words, put a lot of thought and effort into … into what?  Converting you?   You’re not going to be converted and I’m not going to become a believer in a higher power.    I’m kind of pissed off at atheists that are yelling in the media right now.  We’re a barely oppressed minority, chill.  Facts will eventually beat out believe, every time.   Really guys, chill.  We’re getting there.  Yelling, screaming, hell proselytizing, only adds noise.

Fact will beat out fantasy, every time.  Wait.

Okay maybe that does deserve its own update later.

I don’t understand the bathroom, specifically the shower …

This is likely more to any guys reading this, ever read the shit on the bottles your lady has in the shower?

Really, I mean really read it?

WTF, let’s spell it out cause using the capital letters doesn’t do George Carlin justice, What the fuck are you ladies doing in the shower?  Really what’s a sleep mask?  It’s in a bottle with a squeeze top.

(Dagmar breaking in:  Really that’s funny? I bought that crap six years ago, in Afghanistan, and it’s finally used up.   It’s a wonder my hair hasn’t fallen out.  Really Todd?)

Okay I actually just went up into the shower and looked.  It’s not a face mask, its better it’s restorative hair mask and something that is titled “sleep”.

Just a bottle called fucking, “sleep.”

The actual text

It also says and I directly quote:

RELAX BEFORE SLEEP.

 Lavender Essential Oils and Vanilla

Absolute help calm feelings of

stress so you can sleep better.

Seriously there are typos here that would make Hunter S. Thompson cry but, what the fuck is that, really what is it?  Absolute help calm feelings I want to punch you right now.

I got nothing so, ‘Condoleezza Rice’ is hot is the best I can do ….


Because I can’t think of a damned thing that is funny to write about I’m going to write about not having anything to write about.   

These are my conversations with myself when I’m thinking about what to write here when I have no clear ideas.

Internal dialog starts now …

Damn it when you started this you said you were going to post something every other day yet you haven’t posted anything in like 18 years.

Chill out, the blogs only a few months old, you’re still finding your ‘focus.’

What the fuck is a focus?   I mean really it’s a retarded blog that mentions drinking beer in the very title.   It’s in the domain name for Christ’s sake, just post any goddamn retarded thing.  The name is www.hadafewbeers.com it’s right there in the address.   Just post “I like boobs.”   Post it over and over again ala Jack in the Shining but you know, with more boobs.

Okay I’d laugh at that but I’m not sure many other people would.  

Okay, okay then what about that time the dishwasher broke and some of your Facebook friends chastised you for using a dishwasher when only two people live in the house?   That could be funny.

Okay that’s kind of a funny but it’s a quick joke.  It’s like, “What are you nondishwasher people, Amish?”  That sort of thing is all the joke is.   There are a few jokes in there about giving the car up for a horse and buggy and … gah it’s not a very long post if I do that.

See that’s the point.   Every blog you like has a lot of short posts.   They’re all quick, witty, fun and short reads.  Do more updates like that.   “Sweet Mother” and “Oh God my wife is German” are two blogs you read a lot and they never post three page diatribes of profanity, boob references and ill-informed opinion on the catholic church (although either might do a boob reference piece tomorrow and how cool would that be?) 

Make this shit shorter, shorter is better.

Blah, write it the way you want to.  If it takes up three pages in a MS word document for you to ramble on about hookers, boobs and beer, that’s not a bad thing.

Okay then but about WHAT?

How about something silly Dagmar does.  You can play the fool and she can be the wise woman but it’ll be funny.   Those work great for Facebook because they’re short and simple though.  Dagmar says something, I say something, Dagmar calls you XYZ and a comment war starts out among your friends.

I might as well write a blog update that boils down to wives smart, husbands dumb.

Okay so then what?

What about politics.   You love politics.   Half of your iPhone’s podcasts are politics.  You read like 80 million political news sources a day … do one on politics.   Really.   You once had an entire conversation with yourself about whether or not you could actually force yourself to masturbate only to images of Andrea Markel*.   I think you concluded that ‘yes you could’.   See that’s kind of funny …

I did one on politics, two I think … both, together, were read by like eight people half of whom where spammers.  How many more Viagra comments do you want or need?  None.

Okay so what was popular?   Which updates had a good number of ‘hits’.   That’s easy, ‘Merican F’ yeah, Things you didn’t know about the military until you get out of the military and anything dealing with German/European Saunas.

Go with those no?

Yes but.  I have ideas for more of each of those (okay not another ‘Merica F’ yeah cause well I don’t live in America anymore so it’s kind of tough at the moment) but refine them.   Remember how much ‘Merica F’ yeah part two sort of sucked.   Yeah refine the ideas dumbass.   Turn down the flame on the idea and let it cook.   Besides the military one you’re close to finishing …

So you have nothing, is that what you’re saying?

It is.

Does that mean this one is the next update?

I just typed it didn’t I?

* I feel this needs explanation.  Once upon a time Dagmar told me that Henry Kissingerwas sexy.   A proclamation that I

Call me!

reacted too by asking, “WHAT THE FUCK?”  She explained thusly, he’s very smart, very powerful and to hell with what he looks like.   That I understood.  It led to many, too many, what if scenarios in my head though.   Hillary Clinton is kind of hot.   There I said it.  If by some odd chance Condoleezza Rice is reading this call me, please.    I’ll cash in one of Dagmar and my ‘get out of jail cards!’  Really I will.

Part 3: Naked in mixed company German sauna reborn … erections and gayness


I had hoped this was going to be the third and final German sauna story but I think there’s going to be a fourth. 

Yeah, there’s going to be a fourth.  Besides being (99% of the time) a great relaxing day they can be (1% of the time) hysterical … to me, and hopefully to you.

While I’ve had some rocking days here at Hadafewbeers.com (thanks for all the Facebook shares by the way) where there were TONS of daily hits … the series about being naked in a German sauna still gets a lot of hits every damn day.   While ‘Merica, F’yah generated a lot of hits the sauna stories continually get hits albeit in smaller numbers .   On days, hell weeks, I don’t post … in the search terms that word press provides on the stats page, German sauna is still the strongest, all around, hit generator. 

Which leads me to believe there’s a lot of perverts reading this, awesome.

The other two sauna stories for those that missed them are located here (part one) and here (part two).

Last time I posted on the topic I promised the following in this update.

Gay man hits on me in the sauna and the same gay man hits on me later story follow up.

What happens exactly when the whole place goes nude.

Three erections

Yes, Dagmar, okay I was looking at those girls cause they were hot

The Pee-Pee Patrol

Exhibitionist girl

Sailor man’s penis

We’ll get to the first three this time and the last four next time … I’ll even add in a bonus, what happens when you meet a fellow American at the sauna.

Finally Dagmar and I have gone to the sauna I’m betting a few hundred times and these are the exception not the rule to the place.    If you’re ever in Europe and thinking of hitting a traditional European sauna nothing like this will happen to you, but if it does tell me all about it.

So here we go.

Gay man hits on me in the sauna and the same gay man hits on me later story follow-up.

This is the funniest trip to the sauna and also it’s the one that makes Dagmar cry with laughter whenever it comes up in conversation.  Gay men have from time to time, since I was like 13 or some shit, hit on me.   Dagmar finds every single instance extremely funny and I hate her for it.

Fuck you Dagmar it’s NOT funny!  

Okay it’s pretty funny.

Did I mentioned crowded, the sauna's are crowded.

As I think I explained in a previous post at most big sauna’s there are sauna meisters and they, every hour or at the really big ones every half hour, run a special sauna where you rub honey on your naked flesh, rub salt on your naked flesh or for all I know somewhere in northern Germany there is a ‘smack yourself in the face with a dead fish’ sauna.  Point is there are special saunas, you have to get there early because they get VERY, in a way that capital letters cannot convey, crowded. 

By the time the sauna doors are closed you are packed in like sardines, naked sardines and I don’t know of any other kind.   Literally you are squeezed into your space on the sauna bleachers desperately trying not to make skin to skin contact with anyone you aren’t married to.

So this particular sauna was a salt sauna, where you sweat your balls off and then rub salt all over your skin because according to Germany evolution didn’t allow us to shed dead skin cells effectively enough and we need the help of salt.  Alternatively my skin feels really smooth and soft after this particular sauna which is why dudes think I’m gay a lot.   It’s a lose, lose situation … point is I like the salt sauna.

‘Get to the fucking point’ I can hear you all saying and ‘FUCK you’ is my reply.  You get hit on by a gay man while you’re nude with your WIFE LITERALLY glued to your side and then YOU talk about it in a humorous manner.

Okay so during the salt sauna, when you’re rigorously rubbing rock salt all over your body you, and I’m sure you figured it out, can’t do your back.  That’s okay though I have Dagmar to do mine and I do hers. 

Then it happened. 

I speak enough German to order a beer and to prove I don’t speak German.  What I mean is, I don’t speak German.    

The man next to me wanted me to rub the rock salt on his back.   I was naïve enough to, at the time, rationalize this in my

See the guy in the center, the one with the clothes, yeah that the's sauna meister.

head.   There are, I assume, plenty of gay saunas in Germany … anyone that was looking for gay sex would never come to these huge, mixed gender saunas looking for gay sex.  To this point in my, I guess then 3 years in Germany, I knew the Germans to be fanatical rule followers and I honestly assumed this was another German dedicated to the health benefits of the sauna.  

Still though there was the twinkle in his eye.  Never ignore a fucking twinkle folks, never.

I rubbed that salt into his back with the vigor of a German.  “Do a good job,” I told myself.  Work that upper back, scrub the middle back and damn it son don’t skimp on the salt, use some of yours if you have too. 

I introduce him to Dagmar shortly thereafter because even I, with the gay radar of a dead raccoon, am starting to get it.   I believe he told Dagmar at this point, “You are married to a beautiful man”.

Okay fuck …

Dagmar laughing her exposed boobs off the entire time.  

The sauna ends and I think nothing of this episode, other than glad that’s over.   She and I exit and shower.  She now has wonderfully smooth skin.  I now have wonderfully smooth skin and a wife that is in hysterics laughing at me. 

Outside of the main sauna area there are, in the summer time, numerous lounge chairs.  I mean we all love a cancerous tan right?  I do …

As Dagmar and I sunned ourselves, au natural, mister “you are a beautiful man” came back.  To again assure Dagmar that she was still married to a beautiful man.

Seriously.

What happens exactly when the whole place goes nude.

What happens when the whole place goes nude is the best, if only, transition to three erections.   It’s also telling me this is a four or five part update, not just a three part. 

Remember that as soon as the Sauna opens until it closes, most days, there is a clothed part that consists of fun slides, wave pools, mineral baths and then there is the nude side that has, in addition to the sauna’s a large heated pool and a few other things like a massage  area and a bar.   These are separated by an imaginary line on the floor.  Beyond that line everyone is naked, except when they are not.  Which is usually.   Outside of the sauna or the pool most everyone wears a towel or a robe.

Yeah there’s always some naked dude or 80-year-old woman that’s just said, “fuck it, no one is checking me out anyway,” but generally, everyone wears something.

This, obviously, was not after 7 p.m. on a Saturday. It is however the place we go to.

At approximately 6:55 p.m. though, on the clothed side there’s an announcement over the intercom that I think says “hey clothed people the naked weirdos are about to come over to the clothed side of the place so flee if you want to,” or something like that.   And then it just sort of happens, some people leave, some strip, others stray in from the sauna side and by 7:15 it’s a done deal. 

Not that exciting except it leads directly to three erections which, I at least, found hysterical.

Again even after 7 p.m. most of the people who are still there remain wrapped in a towel or robe when not swimming or laying in the sun (in the summer it stay light here until almost 10 p.m.).  

Most people.

Three erections

I don’t remember what time of the evening it was but it was just after the whole place went nude.  While having a cigarette (outdoors – near the snack bar) during one of our trips I noticed three 15 or 16-year-old males seated at a small circular table yelling at each other and apparently masturbating.   Yeah, masturbating …

Now before you close your browser and draft an email where you call me gay and/or a disgusting liar hear me out.  The three were seated at the table in such a way that they couldn’t see what the other was doing, though it was painfully obvious and the fact that they were yelling at each other made it a train wreck that I could not turn away from.   

I should have stamped my cigarette out, fled the German sauna world forever and immediately entered therapy but I was baffled and wanted to see what the fuck they were going to do.  

Besides the obvious I mean.  

And the yelling?  It seemed like encouragement but I have no clue what they were saying because again I don’t speak German but who the HELL encourages their other friends while they are … I know, I know get to the point.

What these three adolescent masterminds had in mind was this.   At a certain point in the, literal mind you, circle jerk they stood up, boner all a-poppin and marched directly through main area in what I guess was an attempt to scandalize the masses and or get a ‘rise’ out of my gay friend in the salt sauna.   Prank wise I think it’s a 4 out of ten.   Balls though?  You bet.