Complaining Ahead

If I had five husbands, one of them could bring me lunch.  I can’t fix lunch because there are no clean dishes.  I can’t clean the dishes because standing that long is out of the question.

In fact, I think I need to go lay down.  I really hope the Butcher gets off work early.

Here’s How I Die

Not in the near future, even though this cold/flu has done me in, but, you know, when the time comes.  After all, a girl can’t die until she finally runs into Little Old Kleinheider at a bar where he introduces her to his husband, Harold Ford Jr., and she has to have a drink because she both can’t imagine anything more perfect and never saw that coming.

I keep having this dream that Sarcastro and the Butcher have created a pill that will cure me of this cold/flu.  The only drawback is that it gives me incredibly noisy, nonstop farts, which they think is hilarious.  I wake up from this dream realizing that I’m choking on my own innards; that’s the noise.  Even now, I can do it, if I tilt my head forward enough, I can’t breathe.

I think that’s why I get more rested when I sleep on the couch–I’m sitting almost upright and everything stays open.

Anyway, that’s how I go.  I either drown or suffocate in my own self.

I’ve had pneumonia six times, all before I was 25, and every time I get a chest x-ray done, the doctors tell me I have to quit smoking because my lungs are shot.  I don’t smoke.  There’s nothing to quit.

I hope to be old when I go, but if I go naturally, I bet it’s because I can’t breathe.

God Has Commanded Me to Take Five Husbands

Via Pandagon, I have learned of this sect in Mississippi which practices polygamy.    As some of the commenters point out, it sure is strange that God never commands women to take multiple husbands.

No, it seems that, whenever there are religiously mandated multiple spouses to be taken, it’s we women who are supposed to lay there in a big pile quietly with our hands where everyone can see them while the lone husband fails, yet again, to keep any of us fucked as often as we would like.

So, I decided to go have a talk with God about this and off I went.

Getting in to see God is kind of a pain in the ass.  You’ve got all these guys lined up in the waiting room, which, as you an imagine, sits at the top of a lofty mountain overlooking the most spectacular views of Earth you’ve ever seen.  And they’re all convinced they’ve got some ‘in’ with God so they’re all sauntering over to the secretary saying "Yeah, me and the Big G, we go way back.  He’d love to see me, I know." and trying to push whoever’s in line ahead of him out of the way.  Or they’ve decided to not bother with actually seeing God; they just shout out the window "Hey, God, yeah, is it okay if I beat my kids?" and the echo off the valley below rings back "yeah… beat… kids…" and they jump up all satisfied that their question has been answered.

I get up to the secretary, finally.  "Hey, can I get in to see God?"

"Do you have an appointment?"


"What?" the secretary looks a little startled.

"I don’t.  I just showed up."

"Well, goodness.  Come on in.  You’re the first person all day to answer that question honestly.  Can I bring you some tea?"

"Oh, no, I’m fine.  I brought a Diet Dr Pepper."

And with that, I was ushered into God’s office, which is, as you might imagine, filled with a lot of toys, coloring books, and M&M dispensers, as if, at any minute, a lot of children might come bursting in and need to be made welcome.

"Hey, God." I say.

"B.  What are you doing here?  It’s been a long time."

"I have a question."


"Do you really give a shit who marries whom?"

"Well, I am love and love is…"

"Hey, now, let’s not get all theological…"

"Up here that’s ‘meological’."

"Very funny.  Just tell me this, how come a bunch of men who follow you get to have multiple wives and I can’t have multiple husbands?"

"Where are you going to put multiple husbands?  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha."

"Oh, that’s great for the old self-esteem, to have God laugh at you."

"I’m just wondering what kind of schedule for the shower you’re going to work out.  Seven people through one shower in a morning."

"I could marry a carpenter who could build me a house with more than one shower."

"I do have a soft spot for carpenters…"

"Wait, seven people… Does this mean I can have six husbands?"

"No, five.  You can have five.  The Butcher’s not going to move out just because you marry five men.  I think we both know that."

"Seriously?  You’re cool with me having five husbands?"

"I’m cool with humans trying out all kinds of arrangements that bring them happiness.  Hell, I tried to convince Elizabeth Taylor and Marilyn Monroe to just take multiple husbands, but they wanted to do it the old fashioned way and get divorced between each wedding."

"So, if I can find five guys to marry me, it’s okay with you?"

"B., if you can find five guys willing to marry you, you have my blessing."

"All right."

"At the least, it’ll stop your dad from nagging me nightly about getting you married off."

So, there you go.  I have God’s blessing to have five husbands.  If you’d like to be considered, please answer the following questions:

1.  Will you keep my house clean?

2.  Are you good with children?

3.  Will you treat my dog like the amazing gift she is?

4.  Will you keep my fridge and cupboards stocked with food?

5.  Can you do minor household repairs?

6.  Are you willing to keep your facial hair at a delightfully scruffy length?

7.  Do you have, or are you willing to procure, a pick up truck?

8.  Do you get along well with other men?

9.  It’s probably unfair of me to ask five men to remain sexually faithful to me while I have the fun of having sex with all five of them.  Edited to add: But tough shit.  Will you promise to pretend like I’m the wittiest, cutest, most charming girl you have ever had sex with and all those other girls are were fun, but boy are you glad you married me?

10.  Would you be willing to dress up like a baseball player, specifically a catcher, just for fun?

11.  Can you score the whole family good tickets to hockey games?

12.  Will you build me a house?

13.  Can you cook?

14.  Will you be insanely jealous if you see any of your other brother-husbands gently kissing my boob freckle?

15.  Would you have no qualms about using your paycheck to support my God-blessed lifestyle?

A Minor, Yet Weird, Miracle

I just broke a glass in my drugged out state.  I reached down, picked up the pieces, and stood up to throw them away.  I heard a loud crack under my heel, like I’d stepped on a potato chip.

No such luck.

I’d stepped on and further broken a large piece of broken glass.

And yet, I was unhurt!

Isn’t that weird?