Rewind Wednesdays

I am trying to post an old blog every wednesday, but ya know... it really COULD be wednesday by my standards. Here's something quite old.

ps - Reality check, oh wait I live in one and don't need to name myself such so to prove it.... hm. Guess what, it's my perogative, make my own decisions, I can do what I wanna do, why can't I live without all the things people say? Suck it love, and give a good listen to lyrics... I rarely don't mean them emphatically. Go ahead and look that up.

Moving on....






-DM
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Being Married

I suppose this entry’s title is wrongly named, because one doesn’t technically have to be married to go through the ups and downs of it, the license and rings just tend to raise the stakes a bit.

Mr. Morgan and I have been married almost two years now, after a careful courtship where we sniffed each other’s asses and made sure we were not just overwhelmed with wanting to fuck, but actually had a deep affection for another. Turns out we still just want to fuck, but get along pretty well during the times we aren’t naked.

Being married offers a variety of challenges, while presenting the comfort of having a warm body next to you at night, and someone who will forever listen to your bitching because they live there and have no where to run.

I had roommates once, a couple who shared one room and I had the other. I didn’t see the scope of how hard it was to live with another person at that time, mostly because I didn’t give a fuck what they did as long as they stayed out of my cereal and dill pickles.

I married Mr. Troll, and it still didn’t quite occur to me. I tended to just ignore him and do my dog rescue thing. I never cooked, cleaned and rarely fucked anything that didn’t take batteries.

Then I met Mr. Morgan. I turned Betty-Fucking-Crocker overnight. I cooked (just because I didn’t for Mr. Troll does not mean I do not know how, I just generally don’t) I cleaned. I learned to chase his fleeing socks with a giant net and wrestle them into the washing machine. I did all of these things with a sense of pride. I’d say to self “My man worked all day, he deserves a clean home, a hot meal and a sexy bitch for a wife!”

I still think these things, and do those things, but it is funny how the little shit changes. Back when I was new ass to him there was no bickering, he would laugh and find my weird shit endearing. Now it’s grounds to banter back and forth until one or the other snaps and starts a pinching war. This happens frequently, the latest being on the road to Marine World.

Being petty, while one of my biggest faults, is a trait I can’t stand in others. Ah…. The irony.

We were driving along and I saw a lot of something I don’t see often. So I pointed and exclaimed happily:

“Cotton!”
“Fog.”
“Cotton.”
“Fog.”

As if he is unaware I name things whatever I feel like when I see them. I’m not a retard who doesn’t know it’s correct term, thus petty to banter me. I have a stuffed animal at home named Generous, so I’m pretty fucking spontaneous and I like finding words that are more suitable than what they are really called.

“Cotton fucker!”
“Fog bitch!”

/pinching war

“Are you done now?”
“Cotton. Hmph.”
“Jesus…. “
“Can you see through the field of COTTON?”
“Are you driving?”
“Well maybe I should be.”
“And maybe you should shut up too.”
“You wish.”
“GET OFF THE PHONE!”
“D… seriously quit screaming that at every person who goes by talking on a cell phone.”
“They should not be on the phone, or passing in the right hand lane.”
“Are you fucking driving or what?”
“Well maybe I should be.” Slumps into seat and sighs audibly.

/vroom…..

“GET OFF THE PHONE!”
“Mother fuck…”
“I couldn’t help it! She was actually DIALING it man. She is selfishly trying to kill us.”
“One more outburst from you….”
“And I can drive?”
“No. One more and you can beg someone to pay for your ticket into marine world.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Would.”
“Then I’m gonna…. I’m gonna hm, I’ll do something buster!”
“Ok D.”

This continued the entire drive for four long hours.

“Ever wondered what it’s like to be a zebra?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Are you talking to hear yourself talk?”
“Yes?”

/silence

“So?”
“So what?”
“Ever wondered what it’s like to be a zebra?”
“God help me…”

So run and get your marriage licenses kids!

-DM