Do you know why most rich and famous people don't stay married? Because they don't have to, that's why.
Logistics for the commoner are a bitch. I'm forced to think long and hard about details and in that time we usually come around to something worth remaining together for -- enough to justify staying without feeling like a complete moron for doing so anyway.
I created this blog specifically to have a place to vent when my husband pisses me off. I know I haven't fired off a substantial rant in a good long time, but that's not because he hasn't hacked me off -- it's because, fuck him, he can get his own blog.
This week his thoughtlessness has convinced me that I married a medical miracle, because he is obviously brain dead.
The details go on and on and are beyond proving he can be a real schmuck -- they make me look and feel stupid for being in this relationship.
He's pissing me off anew, right now, as I try to type he keeps interrupting me -- further evidence of a non functioning brain, because it would only require one working cell to figure out to shut the fuck up and stay the fuck away -- cause bitch ain't throwing things or yelling or trying to make conversation or anything like that. Bitch has gone quite, which means you are dead to her right now -- she's got nothing but cold and empty and now is not the time to see what's behind the ice.
People with brain function, what's behind the ice? Anyone? ...Bueller?
It's not love and forgiveness -- it's a little ditty I like to call, "Okay, you want to know what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong -- let's spell this motherfucker out, shall we?"
Since that particular activity would be a pointless waste of energy, how about you just give me some space right now. Make a call to someone and have them make you feel better about yourself.
I have a few versions in my head of my exit from this relationship. All of them have Sinead O'Connor singing The Last Day of Our Acquaintance and involve the door being nowhere near my ass on the way out.
Today's version doesn't find gravel spitting from the tires as I burn out of the driveway -- hu uh, nope. Today I am in the house and he is not, Sinead is singing from the bedroom stereo and I'm looking up numbers of realtors to see how much we can expect to split between us.
Thin line indeed.
I created this blog specifically to have a place to vent when my husband pisses me off. I know I haven't fired off a substantial rant in a good long time, but that's not because he hasn't hacked me off -- it's because, fuck him, he can get his own blog.
This week his thoughtlessness has convinced me that I married a medical miracle, because he is obviously brain dead.
The details go on and on and are beyond proving he can be a real schmuck -- they make me look and feel stupid for being in this relationship.
He's pissing me off anew, right now, as I try to type he keeps interrupting me -- further evidence of a non functioning brain, because it would only require one working cell to figure out to shut the fuck up and stay the fuck away -- cause bitch ain't throwing things or yelling or trying to make conversation or anything like that. Bitch has gone quite, which means you are dead to her right now -- she's got nothing but cold and empty and now is not the time to see what's behind the ice.
People with brain function, what's behind the ice? Anyone? ...Bueller?
It's not love and forgiveness -- it's a little ditty I like to call, "Okay, you want to know what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong -- let's spell this motherfucker out, shall we?"
Since that particular activity would be a pointless waste of energy, how about you just give me some space right now. Make a call to someone and have them make you feel better about yourself.
I have a few versions in my head of my exit from this relationship. All of them have Sinead O'Connor singing The Last Day of Our Acquaintance and involve the door being nowhere near my ass on the way out.
Today's version doesn't find gravel spitting from the tires as I burn out of the driveway -- hu uh, nope. Today I am in the house and he is not, Sinead is singing from the bedroom stereo and I'm looking up numbers of realtors to see how much we can expect to split between us.
Thin line indeed.
Labels: rich
posted by kim at
8:55 AM
9 Comments:
Nevermind him. How 'bout you come on down to Texas and drown your sorrows in Flirtinis! They fix everything!
Wouldn't that be great?!
You and Mel make it sound fun.
I should change the name of my blog to "If You are Thinking of Getting Married, Read this First".
He's worming back into my good graces, but for the love of Pete...
we should swap stories some time....i'll bet i could beat you on a topic or two! :)
and yes, the flirtinis are great fun, and oh so easy to drink. so come on down. leave the hubby with the kids for a weekend....that'll teach him!
I've gathered hints a time or two from your stories -- I'm sure we could talk.
I wish I could have a flirtini, I wouldn't have to get so mad if I could take the edge off with a shot of something. Unfortunaltely, I'm one of those addictive types who has gotten rid of all of her vices over the years. Bitching via the blog and the occasional intake of sugar are about all I've got left -- oh, and movie popcorn -- love movie popcorn.
And coffee -- I love coffee.
Girl, we can have fun sans Flirtini's! There's lots to do here and Mel and I can certianly dig up an adventure!
Now, since this post you've written some nice things about your husband, so it sounds like the storm has blown over. I'm just sayin' for future turbulance, you have an outlet!
I'm just saying nice things so I like him by the weekend b/c we are going on a little trip just the two us.
I mostly vent on my blog so I'm not a lunatic IRL, but we've sure got issues. I wouldn't work so hard at it if it were not for the kids -- isn't that sad?
I think we have something worth saving, but again, the amount of work to make it into something decent is a bunch of bullshit. It definately should not be this hard.
I should take a trip just for the fun of it anyway! I'm kind of a home body and a chicken about traveling new places alone, but I should just get over that. I'm sure it would be a riot. We could get TGD to chauffeur us around in that boat!
Or if you are ever in Chicago again, that's two hours from me. My sister's a Chicago woman -- she could steer us to the must see stuff.
...and cable, I love cable.
...and the internet. I love the internet.
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