Guess what today is? Well, yes, it is Thursday. Yes, it may be your birthday or whatever. Look, I don't care about you and your feelings ok? Today is my wedding anniversary. Yep. The Wiff and I have been married for 14 years as of today. 'Course we've actually been "together" for over 18 years but that date is harder to narrow down. Do you count from the day when we first met? Do you count from the day when we started hanging out? Do you count from the day that we moved in together? Who frickin' knows? So the wedding anniversary is just an easier date to acknowledge.
"Why, dear Mark", you ask quite boldly and slightly rudely. "Why is your anniversary on November 3rd of all dates?" Are you a crazy person or perhaps thick? Our anniversary is on November 3rd because we got engaged on Halloween night, at Logan airport, more specifically in the "Cheers" bar in the airport, with Silence of the Lambs playing on the TV behind Amy's head, while we were on our way to vacation in Vegas. We then got married 3 days later which would make that day what? November 3rd, that's what. I TOLD you I was classy. Side note: I hated Vegas a lot. Like, a WHOLE lot. It was just a shithole. We did go see George Carlin perform at the MGM Grand though. That was pretty cool. And I got my first speeding ticket on this trip. That wasn't as cool.
Getting married in Vegas was our best option because it allowed us to avoid the whole wedding planning nonsense. The whole she-bang from the flights to Vegas, a week in the time-share condo the company I worked for owned, rental car, wedding silliness, day trips to Death Valley, the Grand Canyon and Zion National Park cost us under $4000. Yep. Them's 1997 dollars too. Totally the way to go. We then were able to save up enough cash to put a down payment on our house (which we still live in). No, we didn't get the "Elvis" package. Motherfucker wanted an extra $300 just to walk Amy down the aisle. And he may have been a hero to most, but he never meant shit to me.
So, yea. This whole thing is has other stories that splinter off from the main theme but I'm too lazy to get into those right now. Plus, I wanted to keep this light. After all, this is about me and The Wiff. See, I like love her and stuff and I'm proud to be her hubby. She's kinda awesome. So there.
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Existence Precedes Essence
Similar to what she did last year, The Wiff has been in Florida for the last several days hanging out with her friends by the pool at Universal Something or Other. You can see by my inability to recall the actual name of the theme park/resort that I am not a fan. Good thing too since I wasn't invited. Which is fine. I didn't wanna go to your stinky movie-themed getaway with a cool pool and hang out all day anyway. I wanted to stay in Boston where it was cold and kinda rainy. I prefer it. So there. No, actually I do. For realsies.
Day 1: The Wiff had to leave at stupid o'clock because her flight to Orlando was leaving out of T.F. Green in Providence. Have I mentioned that we live about 10 miles from Logan Airport? No? Well, we do. She wasn't thrilled about the choice of airport but this is what happens when you let other people book your trip for you. All I knew was I was going to have the house to myself for a few days and I had planned on using this time to do some serious slacking. I'm talking about bringing laziness to a whole new level. By the time I got up for work that morning she had already been gone for an hour. She had made coffee for us (awesome) which I gladly drank and then headed off to work. That night was pretty uneventful so let's just ignore Day 1 and move on shall we? We shall.
Day 2: Friday morning came and since I'm like wicked smahhhht I had made arrangements to work from home. It was a touch chilly in the house when I woke up so after my morning routine I decided to make a nice fire. Oh man, I love having that fireplace insert. It may be a pain in the balls stacking the wood and then bringing it into the house only to restack it in the corner in shape of a small pyramid, but when you get a nice hot fire rolling along and that fan kicks on and heats the house, you forget all about the bullshit. The cats took turns passing out in front of the fireplace glass and I set about my day. I have a rule when I work from home: I have to be dressed as if I am actually going into the office. Luckily where I work that does not mean a suit and tie but it also doesn't mean that I can get away with sitting in my PJs either. But at least I can sit in a super comfy chair with my feet up.
While I was sitting there I noticed a rather large and evil-looking spider making its way across the rug and headed in my general direction. "Stupid firewood's all full of creepy crawlies I bet," I thought to myself and looked around for something to squash said spider if it came within striking distance (I may not like spiders and their ilk but I'm also quite lazy). Luckily for me, Oliver also spotted the spider and swooped in like a gallant furry knight and gobbled the little bastard up. Huzzah, Sir Oliver! Well played! He sat there on the rug looking pleased with himself while scanning for other little moving snacks. Cut to a half hour later and Good Sir Oliver is barfing up a hairball in the dining room that had a not-so-subtle spider theme. Nasty. Is there a worse sound than a cat horking up a hairball? I'm sure there is but I can't think of one right now. I revoke your knighthood Oliver. You are just a gross cat now.
Day 3: Saturday. Glorious, glorious Saturday. This was a day where I had nothing to do. The calendar was completely open and the possibilities seemingly endless (within reason of course). What to do then? How about sleeping in until 9:30 or so and then pad downstairs to play some video games while drinking really strong coffee? Awesome. Let's go do that right now. I even made myself some breakfast. I made some hash and a couple eggs (sunny-side up thank you very much). Plus, the chill was still in the air so I got to make another satisfying fire. Perfecto. Then, at around 2pm, I got bored. Like, super bored. I didn't want to watch anymore TV or play any games. The interwebs was boring me too. So I took a nap in my chair. With a cat in my lap. I am officially an old woman.
Day 4: Ok, this is getting ridiculous. I have to make the coffee AGAIN? Fuck me. And I have to feed the cats and the fish as well as make sure the snake (yes, the snake. We have a ball python named Charlie. It's ridiculous) has enough water or whatever (cuz I sure as hell am not feeding him his favorite food. I'm far too squeamish for that shit). I bet this means I'm going to have to make breakfast for myself too. Sheesh. I know that sounds like I'm a sexist pig but honestly it's just that I'm a terrible cook. My hash and sunny-side up eggs that I had the day before weren't very good and took a lot more talent than I had anticipated. There is a skill set here that I simply do not possess. I am the cleaner. I clean things. I cannot cook things. Well, not very well anyway. Look out dry cereal in a bowl, here I come (I don't really like milk y'see). The rest of this day was spent avoiding doing laundry. I did use the dishwasher though. That was an event. This is literally the first time in my life that I have ever used one. Sure, I've helped load and unload them in the past but I've never put in the soap and turned the fucker on before. I broke my dishwasher cherry. And at the tender age of 40 too. Hope no one calls me a Cascade whore.
Day 5: Monday. Back to work. The Wiff texted me that her flight was going to be delayed and that she figured she'd be home by 9:45 or so. I had planned on going to bed early and finish my book but I realized that I'd probably just pass out and I'd miss her grand arrival. And most likely she'd just wake my sorry ass up anyway so I just watched Top Gear and waited up for her. Aren't I swell? Of course I am. We've established this already.
And so that was the end of my alone time at ye olde homestead. I have never lived alone so getting a couple days to putter around and think my own thoughts while staring at nothing in particular was nice. I even had a bit of an existential crisis which I may or may not explain in a later post. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet. Not to make that a teaser or anything, I just tend to over share sometimes and I have to remind myself that there can be certain boundaries. Fuck, I dunno. I'm just really glad Amy is back home. I missed my lady. I don't even mind that she hogs the covers.
Day 1: The Wiff had to leave at stupid o'clock because her flight to Orlando was leaving out of T.F. Green in Providence. Have I mentioned that we live about 10 miles from Logan Airport? No? Well, we do. She wasn't thrilled about the choice of airport but this is what happens when you let other people book your trip for you. All I knew was I was going to have the house to myself for a few days and I had planned on using this time to do some serious slacking. I'm talking about bringing laziness to a whole new level. By the time I got up for work that morning she had already been gone for an hour. She had made coffee for us (awesome) which I gladly drank and then headed off to work. That night was pretty uneventful so let's just ignore Day 1 and move on shall we? We shall.
Day 2: Friday morning came and since I'm like wicked smahhhht I had made arrangements to work from home. It was a touch chilly in the house when I woke up so after my morning routine I decided to make a nice fire. Oh man, I love having that fireplace insert. It may be a pain in the balls stacking the wood and then bringing it into the house only to restack it in the corner in shape of a small pyramid, but when you get a nice hot fire rolling along and that fan kicks on and heats the house, you forget all about the bullshit. The cats took turns passing out in front of the fireplace glass and I set about my day. I have a rule when I work from home: I have to be dressed as if I am actually going into the office. Luckily where I work that does not mean a suit and tie but it also doesn't mean that I can get away with sitting in my PJs either. But at least I can sit in a super comfy chair with my feet up.
While I was sitting there I noticed a rather large and evil-looking spider making its way across the rug and headed in my general direction. "Stupid firewood's all full of creepy crawlies I bet," I thought to myself and looked around for something to squash said spider if it came within striking distance (I may not like spiders and their ilk but I'm also quite lazy). Luckily for me, Oliver also spotted the spider and swooped in like a gallant furry knight and gobbled the little bastard up. Huzzah, Sir Oliver! Well played! He sat there on the rug looking pleased with himself while scanning for other little moving snacks. Cut to a half hour later and Good Sir Oliver is barfing up a hairball in the dining room that had a not-so-subtle spider theme. Nasty. Is there a worse sound than a cat horking up a hairball? I'm sure there is but I can't think of one right now. I revoke your knighthood Oliver. You are just a gross cat now.
Day 3: Saturday. Glorious, glorious Saturday. This was a day where I had nothing to do. The calendar was completely open and the possibilities seemingly endless (within reason of course). What to do then? How about sleeping in until 9:30 or so and then pad downstairs to play some video games while drinking really strong coffee? Awesome. Let's go do that right now. I even made myself some breakfast. I made some hash and a couple eggs (sunny-side up thank you very much). Plus, the chill was still in the air so I got to make another satisfying fire. Perfecto. Then, at around 2pm, I got bored. Like, super bored. I didn't want to watch anymore TV or play any games. The interwebs was boring me too. So I took a nap in my chair. With a cat in my lap. I am officially an old woman.
Day 4: Ok, this is getting ridiculous. I have to make the coffee AGAIN? Fuck me. And I have to feed the cats and the fish as well as make sure the snake (yes, the snake. We have a ball python named Charlie. It's ridiculous) has enough water or whatever (cuz I sure as hell am not feeding him his favorite food. I'm far too squeamish for that shit). I bet this means I'm going to have to make breakfast for myself too. Sheesh. I know that sounds like I'm a sexist pig but honestly it's just that I'm a terrible cook. My hash and sunny-side up eggs that I had the day before weren't very good and took a lot more talent than I had anticipated. There is a skill set here that I simply do not possess. I am the cleaner. I clean things. I cannot cook things. Well, not very well anyway. Look out dry cereal in a bowl, here I come (I don't really like milk y'see). The rest of this day was spent avoiding doing laundry. I did use the dishwasher though. That was an event. This is literally the first time in my life that I have ever used one. Sure, I've helped load and unload them in the past but I've never put in the soap and turned the fucker on before. I broke my dishwasher cherry. And at the tender age of 40 too. Hope no one calls me a Cascade whore.
Day 5: Monday. Back to work. The Wiff texted me that her flight was going to be delayed and that she figured she'd be home by 9:45 or so. I had planned on going to bed early and finish my book but I realized that I'd probably just pass out and I'd miss her grand arrival. And most likely she'd just wake my sorry ass up anyway so I just watched Top Gear and waited up for her. Aren't I swell? Of course I am. We've established this already.
And so that was the end of my alone time at ye olde homestead. I have never lived alone so getting a couple days to putter around and think my own thoughts while staring at nothing in particular was nice. I even had a bit of an existential crisis which I may or may not explain in a later post. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet. Not to make that a teaser or anything, I just tend to over share sometimes and I have to remind myself that there can be certain boundaries. Fuck, I dunno. I'm just really glad Amy is back home. I missed my lady. I don't even mind that she hogs the covers.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
I'm All On My Own...Someone Alert the Authorities
Since this past Friday (the 5th) The Wiff has been out in the Berkshires with her friends doing some crafty things and then spending a day at a spa. This leaves me to my own devices, rattling around our house and farting at will (wassup ladies? sorry, this prize is taken). I've never actually lived all by myself (like with no roommates or y'know, a wife) and so I was kinda looking forward to having the place to myself for a few days. Plus, I'm a reasonably mature adult so how hard could this be? I mean, at my age my father had 4 kids and a horribly difficult job driving a truck around Boston all day. Surely I can make my own lunches and throw food at the cats, all without burning the house down until Wednesday right?
Day 1: Technically not a full day since she left on Friday and she was still around when I left for work, but whatever. That night, after getting home from work, I treated myself to a pizza and a couple of beers (ok, 3 beers), plopped myself down in front of the ye olde boob tube to watch some TV. I had thought briefly about maybe going into town to see if there were any interesting bands playing but then I remembered who I was and dismissed that idea as ludicrous. I blasted around the channels, flipping so fast that I barely had time to process what show may or may not have been on that channel before zipping on to the next one. That got old faster than I had anticipated and so I settled on something that would have bored The Wiff to tears and made a night of it.
That night I spent rolling willy-nilly around on the bed since I did not have to stay on my assigned side (the right-hand side of the bed Nosy Nelly). "Whole-bed" privileges mean that I could in fact sleep however I saw fit. I lounged across the bed at a truly radical angle and set about trying to fall asleep. No go. I ended up back in my usual spot with Molly the cat adhered to the back of my knees. Go away Molly, your girth will push my whole back out of alignment silly animal. Molly usually smashes herself against The Wiff, you see.
Day 2: Saturday morning came and I was awakened by four hungry cats making their case known. Morticia, a.k.a. the "bowling ball with feet", sat on my chest while keeping an keen eye on Molly (whom she hates with the white hot fury of a thousand suns). Molly of course thinks this is funny and will taunt Morticia. So, Morticia hisses at Molly and I am subjected to evil, evil cat breath at 7am. I guess if you don't brush your teeth for 15 years you end up with really horrible breath. Morticia has it in spades.
The other cats (look, I know ok? Four cats is borderline crazy town. Lay off it ok?) don't do the sit on you and stare thing. No, they cry and cry and cry. Especially Mugsy. Oliver does this thing where he finds a really vulnerable part of your arm and licks it until you toss him across the room and/or get up. All of the above tactics are incredibly effective in at the very least waking the sleeping human. Usually it is The Wiff who will get up and feed the little beasties so that they'll leave us the fuck alone for maybe another hour or so (and I get the glorious whole bed for a little bit while she does so), but since she's not there, I had to go do it. And by the time I had finished dealing with all that nonsense, I was wide awake. Stupid cats ruined my sleep-in Saturday time.
So I make coffee and some breakfast for meself and now what? Hmm. Got the whole day here to do whatever I want. Yep. Mmm hmm ... [crickets] ...Video games on the new giant TV? Well now! Don't mind if I do!
And that was an entire Saturday. Some people would call that an entire Saturday "wasted" and I call those people "women". I had a grand old time. I think I bathed but I honestly don't recall. And does it really matter? Nope. Oh, and did you know that cats demand to be fed more than once a day? Well, they totally do. When is The Wiff coming back anyway?
Day 3: Ok, this "Feed us!" rigmarole is really getting on my nerves. Don't you fuckers have thumbs? Get yer own food. Marky sleepy time now. Sunday came up way faster than I had expected and I kinda felt a little guilty for not doing anything on Saturday. I know! I'll purge some junk out of my office upstairs! Oooh! Maybe I'll even go up into the attic and try to make that somewhat organized (a chore I have been steadfastly blowing off for going on 6 months now). Plus, I should totally install the window unit air conditioners now while it's nice out so that when the icks of summer finally get here and punch me in the balls I can retreat into one of the A/C rooms (we now offer 3 different air conditioned rooms for your convenience by the by).
Yea, I didn't do any of that stuff. Oh fuck you Mugsy, I'll feed you in a second. Jeez.
Day 4: Monday, and so back to work I go. Hmm, maybe I won't make a pot of coffee instead opting to wait until I get to the office to partake of the lovely free gruel we have there. Wow, I kinda like the fact that The Wiff likes to cook. She will whip up a tasty little egg sammich in the morning that sustains me all the way until lunch. Oh yea, and she usually makes me a lovely lil' sammich for my lunch too (PB&J or maybe ham and cheese and a snack! Saving cash! Lookit us!). Wow. I'm a child. I am a giant, cranky child with a driver's license and a taste for scotch. How the hell did I convince her to talk to me let alone marry me? God, she must have been really fucking desperate. And thank jeebus for that! Whoo-hoo! Here's to lowered expectations!
For dinner I had planned to make myself a couple of buffalo burgers but of course I forgot to take the stuff out of the freezer. Awesome. What did I have instead? PB&J of course. Isn't that the obvious choice for a substitute? That night Molly finally figured out that if she doesn't lay across my legs she won't get flung off the bed in the middle of the night when I roll over. Sorry Molly, it's a little thing called inertia. Look that shit up.
Day 5: That would be today, Tuesday. This morning was another exercise in intricacies cat nutrition (hey, they sure do drink a lot of fucking water...didn't know that) as well as the always difficult decision of whether or not a particular shirt was ok or should be ironed. You've probably figured out by now that the shirt was determined to be not that wrinkled. Another victory for time management.
So what's for dinner? Yea! The buffalo burgers that I was going to have last night! That'll be great! Oh, except that I didn't think of it until I was in the goddamn Sumner Tunnel. Stupid tiny brain failed me again. Luckily for me, The Wiff knows full well that I'm just this side of retarded and had stocked the freezer with all kinds of simpleton-proof dinner choices. Mmmm, frozen turkey sausage Stromboli monstrosities. Yummy (they're quite good, for realsies)! Oh fer the love of Pete, I will FEED YOU IN A GODDAMN SECOND you frickin' cats you. Must prepare this stuff now before something shiny distracts me and I forget to heat these things up. Just relax and fight amongst yourselves. And will somebody please fill that water bowl already?! Oh, right, that's me too. Dammit dammit dammit.
Day 6: This will be tomorrow morning only and then The Wiff will make her triumphant return later in the evening. I just have to remember to wash all my dishes before she gets home so that she doesn't sigh all disappointed-like at me. Ooooh! I hope she brings me a toy!
Day 1: Technically not a full day since she left on Friday and she was still around when I left for work, but whatever. That night, after getting home from work, I treated myself to a pizza and a couple of beers (ok, 3 beers), plopped myself down in front of the ye olde boob tube to watch some TV. I had thought briefly about maybe going into town to see if there were any interesting bands playing but then I remembered who I was and dismissed that idea as ludicrous. I blasted around the channels, flipping so fast that I barely had time to process what show may or may not have been on that channel before zipping on to the next one. That got old faster than I had anticipated and so I settled on something that would have bored The Wiff to tears and made a night of it.
That night I spent rolling willy-nilly around on the bed since I did not have to stay on my assigned side (the right-hand side of the bed Nosy Nelly). "Whole-bed" privileges mean that I could in fact sleep however I saw fit. I lounged across the bed at a truly radical angle and set about trying to fall asleep. No go. I ended up back in my usual spot with Molly the cat adhered to the back of my knees. Go away Molly, your girth will push my whole back out of alignment silly animal. Molly usually smashes herself against The Wiff, you see.
Day 2: Saturday morning came and I was awakened by four hungry cats making their case known. Morticia, a.k.a. the "bowling ball with feet", sat on my chest while keeping an keen eye on Molly (whom she hates with the white hot fury of a thousand suns). Molly of course thinks this is funny and will taunt Morticia. So, Morticia hisses at Molly and I am subjected to evil, evil cat breath at 7am. I guess if you don't brush your teeth for 15 years you end up with really horrible breath. Morticia has it in spades.
The other cats (look, I know ok? Four cats is borderline crazy town. Lay off it ok?) don't do the sit on you and stare thing. No, they cry and cry and cry. Especially Mugsy. Oliver does this thing where he finds a really vulnerable part of your arm and licks it until you toss him across the room and/or get up. All of the above tactics are incredibly effective in at the very least waking the sleeping human. Usually it is The Wiff who will get up and feed the little beasties so that they'll leave us the fuck alone for maybe another hour or so (and I get the glorious whole bed for a little bit while she does so), but since she's not there, I had to go do it. And by the time I had finished dealing with all that nonsense, I was wide awake. Stupid cats ruined my sleep-in Saturday time.
So I make coffee and some breakfast for meself and now what? Hmm. Got the whole day here to do whatever I want. Yep. Mmm hmm ... [crickets] ...Video games on the new giant TV? Well now! Don't mind if I do!
And that was an entire Saturday. Some people would call that an entire Saturday "wasted" and I call those people "women". I had a grand old time. I think I bathed but I honestly don't recall. And does it really matter? Nope. Oh, and did you know that cats demand to be fed more than once a day? Well, they totally do. When is The Wiff coming back anyway?
Day 3: Ok, this "Feed us!" rigmarole is really getting on my nerves. Don't you fuckers have thumbs? Get yer own food. Marky sleepy time now. Sunday came up way faster than I had expected and I kinda felt a little guilty for not doing anything on Saturday. I know! I'll purge some junk out of my office upstairs! Oooh! Maybe I'll even go up into the attic and try to make that somewhat organized (a chore I have been steadfastly blowing off for going on 6 months now). Plus, I should totally install the window unit air conditioners now while it's nice out so that when the icks of summer finally get here and punch me in the balls I can retreat into one of the A/C rooms (we now offer 3 different air conditioned rooms for your convenience by the by).
Yea, I didn't do any of that stuff. Oh fuck you Mugsy, I'll feed you in a second. Jeez.
Day 4: Monday, and so back to work I go. Hmm, maybe I won't make a pot of coffee instead opting to wait until I get to the office to partake of the lovely free gruel we have there. Wow, I kinda like the fact that The Wiff likes to cook. She will whip up a tasty little egg sammich in the morning that sustains me all the way until lunch. Oh yea, and she usually makes me a lovely lil' sammich for my lunch too (PB&J or maybe ham and cheese and a snack! Saving cash! Lookit us!). Wow. I'm a child. I am a giant, cranky child with a driver's license and a taste for scotch. How the hell did I convince her to talk to me let alone marry me? God, she must have been really fucking desperate. And thank jeebus for that! Whoo-hoo! Here's to lowered expectations!
For dinner I had planned to make myself a couple of buffalo burgers but of course I forgot to take the stuff out of the freezer. Awesome. What did I have instead? PB&J of course. Isn't that the obvious choice for a substitute? That night Molly finally figured out that if she doesn't lay across my legs she won't get flung off the bed in the middle of the night when I roll over. Sorry Molly, it's a little thing called inertia. Look that shit up.
Day 5: That would be today, Tuesday. This morning was another exercise in intricacies cat nutrition (hey, they sure do drink a lot of fucking water...didn't know that) as well as the always difficult decision of whether or not a particular shirt was ok or should be ironed. You've probably figured out by now that the shirt was determined to be not that wrinkled. Another victory for time management.
So what's for dinner? Yea! The buffalo burgers that I was going to have last night! That'll be great! Oh, except that I didn't think of it until I was in the goddamn Sumner Tunnel. Stupid tiny brain failed me again. Luckily for me, The Wiff knows full well that I'm just this side of retarded and had stocked the freezer with all kinds of simpleton-proof dinner choices. Mmmm, frozen turkey sausage Stromboli monstrosities. Yummy (they're quite good, for realsies)! Oh fer the love of Pete, I will FEED YOU IN A GODDAMN SECOND you frickin' cats you. Must prepare this stuff now before something shiny distracts me and I forget to heat these things up. Just relax and fight amongst yourselves. And will somebody please fill that water bowl already?! Oh, right, that's me too. Dammit dammit dammit.
Day 6: This will be tomorrow morning only and then The Wiff will make her triumphant return later in the evening. I just have to remember to wash all my dishes before she gets home so that she doesn't sigh all disappointed-like at me. Ooooh! I hope she brings me a toy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)