Oil spills, unemployment, Afghanistan, hordes of Mexicans overrunning the border…. Barack Obama has a lot of ‘splainin’ to do, and today Robert Gibbs will be on Press the Meat to do it for him. Then it’s a roundtable with that schmuck from the NY Times, David Brooks, creepy, failed Senate candidate (which, by media standards, makes him an expert) Harold Ford Jr, Ed “hey, somebody close that closet door” Gillespie, and Kent Jones’ sidekick, Rachel “I don’t look quite as goofy wearing a helmet as Michael Dukakis did, but it’s close” Maddow, who just returned from Afghanistan.

Over at CBS, Bob Schieffer has an “exclusive” with AG Eric “thank god my parents didn’t name me Dick” Holder (who looks kinda like Nassir, no?).

On Fux News Sunday, Weaselface Wallace will berate David Axelrod for a while, and then take a hard right turn to chat with that Krazy Jon Kyl from the kooky state of Arizona, and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

David Axelrod heads on over to the Goebbels network, to try and defend Obama’s radical idea that it’s the federal government that has jurisdiction over immigration – not Arizona’s – and then Republican douchebag Brian Bilbray and Luis Gutierrez will argue about it for a while, too. Plus, it’s a roundtable with the WaPosts’s, the National Review’s Reihan Salam, Ron Brownstein of the National Journal and, of course, George :jerk: Will.

Over at CNN, Fareed Zakaris is in London this week, with some “exclusive” one-on-one action with Britain’s Chancellor of the Exchequer George Osborne. Then Fareed interviews one of Britain’s own homegrown radical Muslim leaders, has a look at the British Royal Navy, and then does a story on soccer’s World Cup, which apparently is still going on.

One mother, four kids (at times, anyway), a couple of wars, three Presidents, at least 11 jobs, seven cars, four lawn mowers, two dogs, 13 cats, three stoves, three refrigerators, two hot water heaters, two dishwashers, three microwaves, two sets of washers/dryers, one liberal radio network, seven teevees, and countless cell phones. That’s what our house has seen since we got married 12 years ago today. That’s a lotta shit (and there’s plenty more where that came from).

I was young back then – a mere 37 years old. Skinny, too, since I actually had to work for a living as a Refrigeration Mechanic. Bill Clinton was President, and there was still a World Trade Center in NYC (back then, only clean-cut white guys blew up buildings).

Ah, those were the days.

Having been a bachelor until I was pushing 40, I’d never had the experience of living with a female for an extended period of time (not as a grownup, anyway), so the past 13 – 14 years have been interesting. Turns out, women are pretty handy to have around the house.

For one thing, they always have something called “tissues.” Guys don’t have tissues. We have toilet paper. Tissues are better (but not as toilet paper, ‘cuz your fingers tend to poke through). They also have lotion. We have spit (again, I gotta admit – lotion is better).

As a guy, I had no idea there was more than one kind of lotion. I figured it was all just some kind mixture of Crisco and water or something. Turns out, there are billions of ’em, made out of cucumbers and papayas and all kinds of other shit that smells like it’d go good with Doritos, all in different little jars and squeeze bottles. When you live with a woman, your bathroom starts to look like an Apothecary shop, filled with all kinds of potions, cotton balls, and mysterious (and somewhat malevolent-looking) little devices.

Plus, they stock lots and lots of paper towels. Before I got married, it never occurred to me to have at least one roll of paper towels (and a box of tissues, of course) in every room of the house (and all motor vehicles) at all times, but now I don’t know how I’d get along without them (the best part is, I don’t have to do anything; all this stuff just sort of magically appears). And they buy food, which is nice in a lot of ways (but, sadly, accounts for the all the pounds I’ve put on over the years).

Of course, they have their quirks, too.

For one thing, if they notice you’ve actually figured out where they keep stuff, the next day they move it and then look at you like they’re Cap’n Dan and you’re Forrest Gump (a combination of scorn, disgust, and pity) for not knowing where it is (took me about eight years to figure that trick out). Women also feel the need to put shit inside of (and behind) other shit (some sort of nesting instinct, I think, plus it makes it easier for them to hide shit on us), so in order to get to the shit you want, you first have to get all the other shit out of the way (and then put all that shit back again). Except, being a guy, I generally omit that last step, which gets me yelled at, but that’s where that married-guy selective deafness thing (that I’m still trying to perfect; my dad had down pat) comes in handy.

Females are pretty expensive, too (takes a lot of money to stock up on tissues, lotions, paper towels, and food).

They also seem to like to collect cats, for some reason.

All-in-all, though, these have been the happiest years of my life (that I remember; I’m a little vague on the years from 1978 through 1989 or so), and I can’t believe it’s been a dozen years already. Supposedly, 12 years is supposed to be “silk and linen,” but I think I’ll give her wood instead.

Anyhow, Happy Anniversary, Granny. And Happy Sunday to everybody else.