Open mouth, insert foot

I belong to a card exchange - a group of 15 ladies who make 15 homemade cards and meet once a month to exchange them, visit and eat food. The benefits are two-fold: I receive over a dozen adorable homemade cards each month, and I get out of the house for adult conversation. It's a win-win situation.

After I've arrived home each month, Kevin and I play a little game: he looks through the cards and guesses who made each one. He'll occasionally point out one that he thinks is especially cool, but that's about it.

Except for last month. I arrived home and he was looking through the cards, when he held one up and said with a tone of disgust, "Who made this one?" I looked at him and said, "Are you joking?" To which he replied, "Don't you think it's kind of weird? The ribbon doesn't match and the paper's weird...."

"Honey," I said. "I made that one."

Oops. Open mouth, insert foot.

I'd actually forgotten about the incident (yes, I really let it go) until a few days ago when our neighbor called.

"Dude, I just pulled a 'Kevin!'"

Apparently he'd accidentally told his wife that her attempt at creativity was ugly, too. What do these men know, anyways?