11:35 pm Friday Night.
So I am here to tell you, husbands are truly overrated. Everything they can do we can do better, and the one thing they can do that we can't we can buy something that can do it for us with a lot less mess. I am writing to you from the front porch as the cow's ass I am married to locked me out of the house. I AM NOT KIDDING. He locked me out of the house. I had a feeling asshead was going to do it, too, but he got me to go outside by -- and this is truly henious -- THROWING MY LAPTOP OUT THE FRONT DOOR ONTO THE LAWN. OK. The fact that I am on the porch should tell you whom I value more right this second, the old man in the nice, warm house or MY STUBBORN ASS SELF with my now-broken $1,400 laptop. The backspace button isn't working right.
I am happy to say that HE DIDN'T WIN. Okay, I'm freezing cold and have to pee but I didn't cave in and that's what counts, right? Sooner or later he'll come out to have a smoke and I'll go in on my terms, not his. And at this point in life, isn't that what matters, winning? Small battles, small victories, these are put on a mental scorecard that is tallied at the end of the marriage. If the winner is the one who's died, the loser has to begrudgingly give him/her props during the memorial service. If the loser is the one who's died, the widow/er can start dating at the actual service. Not only that, but if the winner is the one left standing they get to have the yard sale and sell all of the precious objects collected over the years for 25 cents or less. The pair of dress shoes lovingly chosen and worn exactly twice because he never took you anywhere dressy? Put a buck on 'em and watch 'em walk off... His favorite CDs that were always in the car so you could never play music YOU actually liked? Put 'em in the "FREE" box and let the music play! And the list goes on. Seriously, if you think about it, the mental scorecard hardly matters if you're the one left standing. 6,000 points for living longer! Game Over!
So I am here to tell you, husbands are truly overrated. Everything they can do we can do better, and the one thing they can do that we can't we can buy something that can do it for us with a lot less mess. I am writing to you from the front porch as the cow's ass I am married to locked me out of the house. I AM NOT KIDDING. He locked me out of the house. I had a feeling asshead was going to do it, too, but he got me to go outside by -- and this is truly henious -- THROWING MY LAPTOP OUT THE FRONT DOOR ONTO THE LAWN. OK. The fact that I am on the porch should tell you whom I value more right this second, the old man in the nice, warm house or MY STUBBORN ASS SELF with my now-broken $1,400 laptop. The backspace button isn't working right.
I am happy to say that HE DIDN'T WIN. Okay, I'm freezing cold and have to pee but I didn't cave in and that's what counts, right? Sooner or later he'll come out to have a smoke and I'll go in on my terms, not his. And at this point in life, isn't that what matters, winning? Small battles, small victories, these are put on a mental scorecard that is tallied at the end of the marriage. If the winner is the one who's died, the loser has to begrudgingly give him/her props during the memorial service. If the loser is the one who's died, the widow/er can start dating at the actual service. Not only that, but if the winner is the one left standing they get to have the yard sale and sell all of the precious objects collected over the years for 25 cents or less. The pair of dress shoes lovingly chosen and worn exactly twice because he never took you anywhere dressy? Put a buck on 'em and watch 'em walk off... His favorite CDs that were always in the car so you could never play music YOU actually liked? Put 'em in the "FREE" box and let the music play! And the list goes on. Seriously, if you think about it, the mental scorecard hardly matters if you're the one left standing. 6,000 points for living longer! Game Over!
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