Don’t ever get married.

That’s what Nice Guy was telling DonutDave from QA this afternoon. Apparently Nice Guy’s wife, afraid he’d start opening e-mails from work, decided to bar the ‘Guy from accessing the ‘Net from their family’s computer.

A bipartisan man by nature, Nice Guy was sure to throw in an alternative for swinging singleton, DonutDave. “Or marry someone you can dominate”, said Nice Guy all thoughtful-like, “and then tell her, “I’ll go on the Internet when I frickin’ want to cause I pay the G*# D*&& bills!”

And I got to thinking, I wonder if that would work at my house. I can see it now: I’m all happy in front of my flat screen, reading rock star gossip, blogging, or playing snood, when in walks Angelface, spent from a long day at work.

He looks to me and nods his head ever so slightly. Too tired to speak, he merely grunts an acknowledgement of my presence. This is my cue to exit the captain’s seat – immediately. Angelface needs to catch up on his reading – sports and world news await.

Instead of exiting the office chair, nonchalantly, I do as Nice Guy recommends. I say “I’m not getting my duffer off this chair. I’ll go on the Internet when I frickin? want to cause I pay the G*# D*&& bills!”

And then Angelface, with a look of consternation and concern (concern for pgatour.com which he has to see right. f-ing. now.), lifts me by my wimpy “my muscles are made of spinach and sweet potatoes” yogafied limbs, and tosses me from the leather chair.

I land on the floor and whimper for a while. Eventually Belle and Sphynx come by to play in my armpits and lick my nostrils.

Great theory Nice Guy. But like Gary Coleman, Kato Kaelin, Vanilla Ice, and that guy who played Screech on Saved By The Bell, it needs work.