We’ll just wrap this up:
- Our piles of books and magazines look so cute together.
- He encouraged me to buy my dream car, and goes through all kinds of contortions to change the oil.
- Four words: Still rocking the ponytail.
We’ll just wrap this up:
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I just joined Facebook. Next I’ll be using the word “network” as a verb and accepting the phrase “grow the economy” without my left eye twitching.
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In honor of my wedding anniversary this Wednesday, I’ll be posting a week’s worth of reasons of why I’m still married to the guy who showed up 45 minutes late to our first date driving a drafty Volkswagen Vanagon.
Part I
Because last night, while mocking old music videos from the ’80s on YouTube, we had this conversation:
Bill: I’m trying to think of just one more good one. What about “Safety Dance”?
Me: Isn’t that the one with people dressed like they’re at a Renaissance Fair?
Bill: It has midgets.
Me: Oh, hell yeah.
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I hate that a decade of living with near-constant rainfall and annual hurricanes in Mobile, Ala., has ruined thunderstorms for me. I’m always on the lookout for leaky roof shingles or dodgy tree branches instead of enjoying the sound of rain hitting the back deck or watching the lightning.
Stupid Gulf Coast.
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Seriously loving this link from The Root: Five things white folks shouldn’t do now that Obama has won the election.
My favorite is No. 1: “Don’t personally congratulate all your black friends.” Seriously, my black co-workers are bristling with aggravation over such sentiments.
Obama is not THEIR president, he’s OUR president, and he couldn’t have gotten elected without plenty of white votes.
One day, I hope, we won’t be accused of electing a president because he’s black, or in spite of the fact that he’s black. It won’t matter what color he – or SHE – is.
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I’ve been secretly living alone for the past 2.5 weeks. Secretly in deference to my mother and husband, who didn’t think the world should know that I was alone in the house at night.
The husband spent nearly three weeks in New Jersey on business. I spent nearly three weeks being really bad at being single, eating turkey bacon and wheat toast every night for dinner and strewing project papers all over the living room.
In what should have been an ill-advised move, I also watched a couple of horror movies by myself: “The Ring” and “Pet Sematary.” Either I’ve become so jaded that movies don’t scare me anymore, or I just picked the wrong movies (a certainty in the second case).
At any rate, Bill’s back, the living room has been cleared of lit articles and the toaster has been stowed under the cabinet. The pre-Halloween airing of every horror movie ever made is finally over, so no more temptation there.
In short, we’re back the the DINK lifestyle that we’ve come to know and love. I didn’t realize I’d miss it so much.
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Dear Creature Scratching Around in my Attic at 3:30 a.m.:
Meet Yang. He will crush you, see you driven before him, and hear the lamentations of your women.
Come on downstairs for some cat food and water. He’s looking forward to meeting you.
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In every relationship, there are schisms, disagreements over past events that will never be resolved. These can run from the minor to the catastrophic, from aggravating to infuriating.
Also, apparently, there are events that are not your fault at all, but you end up being held accountable for them anyway.
My little brother got married on the same night that AC/DC played at the Mississippi Gulf Coast Coliseum in Biloxi. In fairness, the wedding was scheduled months before the concert was scheduled.
My husband did not get to go to the concert. To add insult to injury, we stayed at the casino nearest the coliseum, and had to see the fans leaving the next morning, resplendent in their black concert T-shirts and hangovers.
In retrospect, I should have dropped him off at the coliseum on the way to the reception.
For several years, any time AC/DC has come on the radio, any time Rolling Stone runs an article on AC/DC, any time the topic of concerts comes up, Bill reminds me of the hole in his concert roster. I remind him that it’s not my fault, and silently remind myself to be quicker about changing the radio station or hiding the Rolling Stone next time.
So I’m happy to announce that AC/DC is on tour yet again, and we have snagged tickets to the Nashville show. I can finally stop censoring magazines and radio broadcasts.
Thank you, AC/DC, for touring again. And thank you, Rob, for staying married so I don’t have to hear about what a waste of time it was to go to that wedding instead of AC/DC.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged brother, casino, concerts, husband, marriage, mississippi, music | 1 Comment »