I was told by my wife that she wouldn’t bring me another beer, but that if I got myself one, I had to bring one for her. Grumbling, I had to pause Drag Me To Hell right in the middle of the awesome part where the possessed goat starts using profanity, and walk downstairs in the scary ass dark to fetch the last two beers. I returned, handed her one, then inexplicably walked into the door jamb and dropped mine all over the floor. Now I have no beer, she has the last one, and she maddeningly fails to see how everything – including the fact that I didn’t have a date to the Ladies Night Dance for 3 out of 4 years of high school – is her fault. Women!