After my last blog, I feel the need to set the record straight, my wife is smart while I'm ... less so. Sure, I've called her the Dream Squelcher, recommended that she get enlargements, and compared her to a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. What's that old saying; she's the yin to my wang?

For example, the other night we were having sushi and sharing a bottle of white wine when she says, "I've been thinking about all the people in my life who've made me the woman I am today. You ever think about that?"

"Becoming a woman?"

"No you ..." (she mumbles something about a complete idiot) "The people that have made a positive impact on your life."

"Simple. Hugh Hefner because ..."

The look in her eye told me she was serious. I say "eye" because when we go out for sushi, she likes to dress up as a pirate with an eye patch and, oh, right, SER-I-OUS.

"Ok, my high school English teacher, Big Ed."

"How'd he help make you who you are today?"

"Mr. Ed? Well, he forced us to read plays and stuff."

Wife: Plays? That's it?

Dashing Husband: Sure, it was stuff I never would have read on my own. Oedipus, Death of a Salesman, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, The Kama Sutra...

Wife: (not convinced she reiterates) Plays?

Dashing Husband: When discussing the stuff we read, Special Ed challenged us to think. To think about religion, death, love, to think.

Enter waitress

Waitress: Can I get you guys anything else?

Dashing Husband: Just the check please.

Waitress winks at Dashing Husband and exits

Wife: Who else?

"Well, after high school there was college, but that's a seven-year Keystone Light haze. I guess the next person was my first real boss."

"Your stint in Los Angeles?"

"Yeah, Bob. I still consider him my mentor even though I haven't worked with him for eight years."

"And he imparted?"

"Don't be late. Be prepared. Your reputation is everything. Don't get married."

"Don't get married?" (Insert disapproving Marge Simpson groan here)

"Ok, my mom."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah. She's what, 87 years old? Last summer she recorded her fourth hole-in-one and has a 19 handicap."

"She's 70-something, it was her fifth hole-in-one, and her handicap is a 16."

"Anyone else?" she questions and raises one eyebrow which reminds me of Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau.

I know what she's hinting at, but I am too stubborn. Luckily, I'm bailed out when the waitress returns with the bill. Upon seeing the final amount, I grab my chest and make like I am having a severe heart attack.

Embarrassed, my wife just shakes her head and says, "You win, let's go."

For what it's worth, the wine we shared was a 2005 Conundrum. At the restaurant it was priced at $38 a bottle, which means it probably sells for about $12 at the liquor store. Pairs nicely with sea food but triggers way too many thought-provoking questions.

Sure, there are other people that have come and gone, and some that still remain, but those are the ones who have made me the stallion I am today. Yep: Big Ed, Bob, my mom, and my wife. Yeah, her, but she already knew that even if I didn't have the guts to tell her ... oh, and don't forget Hugh.