Husband Clothes

Oh dear. I just watched Steven Tyler singing the National Anthem. And by “singing,” I mean…well, I mean singing, if you will. It’s right here for anyone who who’s in the mood to feel REALLY tense and worried before a few select song lines. Then to roll your eyes and feel kind of weird after hearing those select song lines.

Why does this guy irritate me so much? Could it be that I loved him so much in high school, and due to things like this, I actually irritate myself so much? Or could it be that he paints his fingernails black, something that only “Goth” high school (or middle school?) students should be excited about? I don’t know. He just really annoys me. It also annoys me that apparently he has girls lined up to go out on dates with him–I know, I know, girls like rich guys. But come on…there are rich guys out there who are much, much, much less annoying than this dude. (Ha! Effective word choice because remember “Dude Looks Like a Lady”? Yeah, guess who wrote it. Steven Tyler, the dude who looks like a lady in the above photo.)

SO, I really don’t believe in people bashing. I’m not sure why I am breaking my rule to bash Steven Tyler. I think this version of the National Anthem was just…ridiculous, and thereby pushed me over the edge. BUT since I don’t believe in people bashing, I am going to end this post on the most positive note ever. Here are some amazing, unique traits that Steven Tyler has:

1. No matter where he is or what he is doing–David Letterman interview, singing the National Anthem, at a concert–Steven Tyler is always dressed like a pirate, yet always looks like a woman. Who else can manage that?
2. Steven Tyler looks like that (see above photo), yet has had like 10 wives. Plus, by his own admission, countless lovers. That combination of truths is impossible–yet he somehow accomplished each despite the other.
3. Steven Tyler is the father of Liv Tyler, one of the most graceful, beautiful actresses in all of Hollywood. Well, at least he has a legacy now. Aside from pirate costumes, I mean.

Mmmm, ok that’s all I can think of. Sorry for being mean. Also, sorry if you love Steven Tyler. I’m sure you have your reasons (such as that you really love pirate costumes. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA. Sorry).

PS. Ok, I just thought of an actual positive point!!! Yay! Steven Tyler wrote “Dream On.” (Sing with me, sing for the years, sing for the laughter, sing for the tears…YouTube link here.) Really, that’s a great song. AND I deleted the mean joke I just made about Steven Tyler thereby ending on a positive note! Yay!

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Remember this song? (This is the Iko Iko music video–the version of the song from the movie RainMan). How in the WORLD did I forget how sassy and sexy this video is? The lady pictured above is the singer from Belle Stars. I love this video–good scenes from RainMan, plus it’s a great version of this song.

I’ve experienced one extremely positive effect from watching this video a million times today and yesterday: I always disliked ballet until now–specifically due to the tight spandex on guys look. While I’ve always wanted to be sophisticated enough to like opera and ballet…it just hasn’t happened for me. Well, until the fancy footwork by the dude in this video. MAN. I wish I could be his type (ie, male I guess). Ha ha. I just said I wish I could be male–what a weird and un-funny joke that was!

A few other things I’m enjoying about this video:

1. How the girl in this video be SO HOT with white dreadlocks and green things hanging off her bodysuit? Also, why is it that she’s adorable when she swings HER hair, but when I swing mine like that, I look stupid? Whatever.
2. How short and tight people’s pants were in the movie RainMan–I never noticed that at the time, but wow.
3. For some reason, I always remembered the girl in the movie as the same lady who did all those “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful” commercials. Nope–totally different lady in this movie…
4. Is it just me, or does the VH1 title in the lower left corner say “Rain Main” instead of “Rain Man”? Come on now VH1.
5. I tried to do the sassy dances of the blond dread locks girl in the video. It didn’t go well, but I’m so proud that I tried.

Oh also, this video has been viewed like 1,400,000 times. I think I personally am responsible for a good 1000 of those just between yesterday and today. If you decide to watch the video–and ESPECIALLY the hot footwork at 1:39, you might keep clicking replay. You’ve been warned!

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I wish I could do more for the poor, hurt, abused, sad, and scared people in the world. Sometimes get sad because I want to do something BIG in the way of charity, something GREAT that will help millions of people, something like Bill Gates has done with his philanthropic venture to not only sign away most of his own money to charities–but convincing fellow billionaires to do the same!

Then there’s me. It feels a little lame to think about who I’ve helped compared to the people Bill Gates has helped. Okay, let’s scale that statement down by comparing me to normal people, and I will STILL seem lame. Compare the number of people I’ve helped to…for example, those my Grandma helped, or my sister who volunteers at a home for the elderly, or my son’s teacher who takes in abandoned animals and nurses them back to health until they are adopted.

Well, it’s quotes like these below that help remind me that it doesn’t require doing millions of hours of volunteer work to help and make a difference…It’s the choices I make by the minute, the hour, the day, and the week–who do I smile at? Who do I encourage? Who do I lift up? Or, who do I tear down? Who do I listen to? Who do I talk to death? Who do I pay attention to? And who do I ignore? Do I tip well, or do I give the absolute bare minimum to that driver who’s slaving away to earn a living for his family?

These things do seem important, but even as I try really hard to be nice and helpful and not get snappy with people even when they get snappy with me (DIFFICULT), I still get sad that I can’t help more people, I can’t take away children’s pain, I can’t give homeless people a home, I can’t do this, I can’t do that–due to limitations of time, money, and other resources…

So boy did I LOVE THESE QUOTES I read by Mother Teresa:

“Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you.”

“If you can’t feed a hundred people, feed just one.”

Enjoy those words. And now it’s time for bed. (I have not been very disciplined about bedtime lately, but I am very determined, and this blog is not stopping me from going to bed this INSTANT. )

Nighty night!

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This is a very inspirational poem by Mother Teresa, and I LOVE it. My blog might start getting filled up with ALL kinds of stuff like the following awesomeness:

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway.

The good you do today people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough; Give the world the best you’ve got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and god; It was never between you and them anyway.

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RIP Steve Jobs. I can’t believe he died at age 56.

Not many people can say they impacted the WHOLE WORLD. Especially by age 56.

I’m very sad right now. The world has lost an amazing mind and visionary.

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Not surprisingly, our new city has involved some new crushes. Since I’m divorced and most excitement in my life has to take place with my small children or in my own mind (since I can’t get out because no babysitter, also no money FOR babysitter–but that’s ok, because I have a plan to get rich later)….Anyway, for these reasons, I think my crushes will make up the bulk of what I will be blogging about in the future. Somehow that seems lame and totally meaningless and stupid. Nevertheless, for some reason I’m feeling VERY compelled to write about that topic. Sometimes maybe I’ll also feel compelled to write about important things like life after death or psychoanalysis of people who puzzle me, or perhaps age old questions like why some of us are have’s and some are have not’s. Who knows? Anyway, so far here are the guys I like:

1) My hot, un-married orthodontist. Well, actually I liked him so much, but then I realized he’s one of those who has everyone under a spell due to his hotness. So now, I can’t really say I have a crush on him–he’s too aware of his own charm. But he’s still really cute, so I might blog about him when I see him for my Invisalign.

2) Cute lifeguard at pool last summer. Okay,he looked like Bo Duke (as in The Dukes of Hazard) but CUTER. My 10-year-old son made me laugh aloud from happiness one day when we were walking home from the pool. He said, “Mom, WHY did that lifeguard keep staring and smiling at you? It was EMBARRASSING.” Hahahahahh. I’m not sure there was indeed smiling or staring, but if there was, I’m definitely fine with it.

3) My old boss. This is not Hot Boss. This is Old Hot Boss. He’s my boss from many years ago whom I have never blogged about. Now, he’s what I might refer to as a HUGE “no no”. Many reasons. But he sure is cute. And super smart. I always had a crush on him. I don’t think there will be any stories about him–because he’s a “no no”, but also because I don’t suspect he and I will be in contact. Still, I wanted to mention him.

4) Republicans running for President—oh man, this entry could go on for days, but I have two seconds (have to sleep darn it, it’s almost 1:00am…what am I doing???). I need a whole PAGE just to talk about mu’ man Mitt. Let’s see…how can I sum up my thoughts on him? Oh I know–I can’t contain my love for Mitt Romney, that’s how. I am not even Republican–but he makes me feel Republican…and proud of being Republican. Only a true genius could do that. Mitt Romney, you make the world a better, more aesthetically amazing, and of course, a more effectively medically insured place to live. (We know, we know, NOT in an Obamacare way because the insurance program YOU enacted in Massachusetts is NOT like Obamacare, it’s Genius-care, and it’s perfect. Just like you.)

More on Mitt tomorrow. I might need to blog about him a few times–there’s just so much to say. I need an I HEART MITT ROMNEY coffee mug, man.

Well, I need to go to bed now. Nighty night.

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WOW. I can’t believe I haven’t blogged since December! Well, there’s so much to share! Let’s see…where to begin. First, is it ok if I toot my own horn a little? I’m feeling rather proud of the homemaker coming out in me. Now, don’t let that statement confuse you–I have ALWAYS loved cooking. And I guess the house is always tidy–but very limited deepcleaning…in other words, you won’t see a lot of junk lying around everywhere, yet you’ll always want to avoid the corners, nooks, and crannies when visiting my house.

By “house” I mean condo.

OH, and by “my” I do mean “my” and not “our”! That’s cause I’m divorced! I’m working on changing the …what do you call it…oh yeah, the tagline of my blog. I can’t think of a good one yet. I might just leave it as it already is. Who cares? It’s a blog title, not a college diploma.

What else was I going to tell you? OH, homemaker. OH wait, a few more divorce details first. Let’s see, what would anyone reading my blog want to know? Did the things I blog about cause our divorce? NO. Those things were funny. It was stuff that I did NOT blog about that caused the divorce. But don’t worry–this wasn’t one of those horrible and devastating separations. As you know if you read a few postings, my husband (oopsey, keep calling him “husband” and not “ex husband” and also when I talk to him, sometimes I call him “honey” by accident. But he does the same thing, and neither of us cares of feels confused by it, so I guess it’s fine.) was gone all the time, and when he moved out, it felt very similar to what life had always felt before. Now, I SUSPECT that’s not how a separation from your spouse is supposed to feel–and there, most likely, lay the heart of the issue.

Let’s see, what else might people want to know that I feel comfortable putting on a blog that my ex husband (yay! I remembered to write “ex” this time!) or his mom or his best friends or my mom or my best friends could read? Ummmm. Nothing. Okey dokey. So, long story short, we’re both really happy to be on a new path, I moved closer to family, and my ex husband STILL im’s me all the time with questions like “hey, when did I come to the US”? (He means what date did HE come to the US. Yeah. He can’t remember. Hello, can you say “look at your passport, the date is stamped in there?” No.  So he asks me. Lots of im’s like that.)

Ok…OH. I was going to tell you how homemaker-y. Not just THAT. Also I’ve gotten very handyman-ish-y.  There are so many, I’m just going to go ahead and make a long list for you:

1) Hemmed four pairs of jeans and one pair of pants. Though I poked a needle in my hand five times–and bled all five times–BUT the clothing doesn’t look half bad, and the jeans were for my son so they’ll be too short by like Christmas, so I hemmed them in a way that I can UN-hem them and RE-hem them. Have you ever met anyone who did THAT? You have now.

2) Installed my own printer. AND the wireless component WORKS. It never worked when my husband (oops, ex husband) installed it. HA.

3) Screwed a water filter onto a faucet.

4) Dismantled a REALLY heavy shelf thing that was old and dangerous because it leaned over. AND made a million trips to the dumpster carrying shelves that were way taller than me and way longer than my arms. It looked stupid, and it almost killed me because my arms kept cramping up and it was squishing my fingers to carry it–hard to explain. I was trying to get this handyman to let me pay him to carry it away, but I guess he’s too GOOD for that type of dirty work. So this girl did it herself.

5) Refinished a table and four chairs. I’m talking stripped those things down to the BARE wood. Bare beautiful wood. Then sanded, stained, and sealed them. There are like a million layers of paint on those things. But they do look pretty nice. OH, and my hot neighbor–remember the one who heroically yelled at crooks trying to steal my GPS out of my car? Well, he is a master refinisher showed me how to use the RAZOR technique to smooth out a finish. Anybody know that the RAZOR technique entails? No? Oh. Well, send me an email if you need any RAZOR finishing technique tips. Or general refinishing tips. I went to the local DIY store 80 million times and kept buying stuff and exchanging it–I’m serious, it went on like every day for a month. They hate me at that store. But it’s ok–I no longer live in that city. Bye bye DIY store; I learned a lot from you.

7) Changed the light bulb IN mu TV. (I spelled “mu” that way on purpose. It rhymes with “hu”. Do you say that? My favorite way to use “mu” is to say that I’m driving in “mu” Mustang. I don’t have a car right now though, but if I did, I’d want it to be a Mustang.)

OH, circling back to #1, I set up my printer to work as a fax AND the fax is also WIRELESS. There were a few steps forward and a few steps back during that fax process, but we’re all good now.

9) I baked  I got a bunch of REAL pretty summer clothes. No more of that same outfit every day stuff. I had like FOUR smokin’ outfits. (Only two pairs of shorts, but due to the FOUR shirts, it looked like lots of outfits.) Dang, you should have seen me. And I had some cute high heel sandals.

10) The tough mover guys put together my desk bench incorrectly, and the legs kept falling off the bench. I figured out how to screw them on correctly. In other words, I fixed…no, repaired…the bench that the tough guys put together in correctly. Take THAT mover guys who put furniture together on a daily basis. If you have any assembly questions, you can find me right here.

So these are the homemaker-y and handyman-ish things I’ve been doing. Now I want to blog about my recent crushes. Then I have to go to bed. CRAP. It’s 12:40am. What the heck??

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Dear Round Table Pizza Delivery Boy,

It was so nice to see you again tonight! I am sorry I “bailed” on you last Friday…my children INSISTED on getting pizza from Papa John’s…Does that disappoint you? Well, it disappointed me. Not only because Round Table pizza is so incomparably superior to Papa John’s pizza in every possible way from cheese to sauce to toppings, but also, well, let’s just say it like it is–they know how to pick their pizza delivery boys.

Don’t go getting the wrong idea now. I actually meant that Round Table pizza delivery boys are polite. Unlike the guy from Papa John’s who always gets kind of…I don’t know…testy…like I’m trying to get one over him when I ask for Parmesean cheese packets. (Come on, if I wanted to dupe the guy, I think I could find a more profitable means to do so.) Or perhaps the Papa John’s guy got irritated because he was tired of my porch light being broken, and therefore he couldn’t see where to knock(?) Wehehellll, soooo sorry! My husband BREAKS things, and happens to procrastinate with alarmingly invincible steadfastness…So he broke the porch light by crushing the bulb last time he tried to change it–leaving just the metal stub screwed tightly in place. I tried for months to unscrew that thing without cutting my hand…as my husband promised time and time again he’d take care of it…Oh yes, he’ll take care of it. After I freaking die, probably.

While YOU, on the other hand, Mr. Round Table Pizza Delivery Boy, were ever so patient about the porch light situation …Then that one evening, you even offered to fix the porch light. Remember? I said no, don’t worry, I’m totally on it, it’ll be fixed next Friday. And then you said no, it’s no problem at all, you’d need is a hammer or another tool. And I said no, and you said, it’s ok really. (Oh, I meant to ask…how could you fix the broken bulb using a hammer? Are you one of those guys who can literally fix anything with anything? I LOVE THAT. Oh no matter…)

Prior to that evening, I must admit, while I had noticed how polite and modestly nice-looking you were, I’d never picked up on your…how shall we say this subtly…the fact that you obviously exercise. By that I mean, the fact that you obviously lift a LOT of weights and probably also do a TON of sit ups…I somehow picked up on this during our brief, five-minute lightbulb chat (probably because I was staring at your arm and abdominal muscles through your somewhat snugly fitting shirt–very sorry about that!!!). I also picked up on the masculine shape of your dark eyes, your strong angular jawline, and the cuteness of your shy smile. See what happens when you offer to help a girl with something she just can’t resolve on her own as others ignore her pleas, pizza boy?

Well, after all that, obviously, I could not allow you to fix my lightbulb–I simply can’t let sweet, hot boys be repairing stuff around my house (though you are likely in your late 20’s, so technically a man, not a boy, but that’s neither here nor there.) And the no-hot-boys-fixing-things rule will stay in effect no matter how many days, weeks, months, or let’s be serious, years, it takes for my husband to get around to it.

Why? Well, when you are married one day (oh, sorry are you married already? just curious), you will understand that this is how you avoid trouble. You keep all the hot, nice people far, far away. Any hot guys who tell you that your hair looks nice? Far away. Any hot guys who comment on what a good job you did on something? Far away. Any hot guys who ask you how your day is going? Far, far away. Oh, but we’re talking about you, not me…so anyway, if you were really ugly and gross (like Papa John’s dude), you could offer to fix anything in my home.

Oh, and I do realize you weren’t even trying to be flirty–just trying to be helpful, and I am so very grateful for that…By the way, tonight when you stopped by tonight (pizza in hand, yummy!), wasn’t it so nice to have light? And just how did the light get fixed, you might ask. I finally called our apartment manager to help me after the light had been broken a total of 6 months–and wouldn’t you know it, he fixed it in only two seconds…Isn’t that just so darn funny?

Well, anyway, mainly I just wanted to thank you for that nice gesture. Since you’re so cute, though, just don’t get any nicer than you already are–because if you do, I might develop a crush on you, in which case I would have to start calling a different Round Table. But for now, I will see you again the Friday after next. (Next Friday, I will have to deal with the Papa John’s jerk again, or the kids will complain that I’m being unfair.)

Until next time, dear pizza boy!

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Welp, my husband got a new Mustang. I was so thrilled when he told me on the phone that he got it at the price we decided on…till I saw it, that is. There’s some bad news. Very bad…My husband told me on the phone that the Mustang is white. He failed to mention that it has blue metallic racing stripes. We don’t need racing stripes because we don’t drive in races. Also racing stripes are flashy and a little on the…car hobbyist type side. We aren’t car hobbyists. We were just shooting for a nicely priced used Mustang. Or at least I was. So, when I saw the racing stripes on the car in our driveway, I became very sad. All I could think about for the next three days was how much the car reminded me of that orange General Lee car from the show the “Dukes of Hazard.” The car made me feel very at one with the Duke boys.

I guess that’s not such a bad thing. After all, I have always felt a certain kinship with the Dukes. The Dukes were Southern. I’m Southern. Uncle Jessee made moonshine. Some of my relatives made moonshine. (Not to sell, to give to children who were sick to help them stop coughing–which is probably more harmful than selling it, but that’s all in the past now.) Okay, so I’m Southern, the moonshine thing, and also I now have a car that in my opinion resembles the General Lee. Realizing how much I have in common with the Dukes of Hazzard, I’ve been thinking a lot about them. Unfortunately, this has lead me to a lot of questions that have gone unanswered since my younger years:

1) Why would they name a character Enos? Is that a real name? Enos was really sweet and really in love with Daisy Duke. But he kind of looks like my Cousin David, and I just can’t bring myself to say his name aloud.

2) Remember the character Cooter? Now there’s another odd name. Who thought up the names for these characters? Also, I always thought Cooter looked like this family friend. That confused me because the family friend was really handsome, but Cooter was kind of like an ugly version of him–yet Cooter was the one on TV with the hot Duke boys.  It seemed unnatural. He seemed unnatural. He was always waving out of his truck window, never walking around or sitting in a room like a normal person. Always in or under a vehicle (repairing it). His name was strange, and he was just strange. I didn’t know what to make of him. Did you?

2) Is it my imagination, or was Boss Hog always eating chicken? And, if he was always eating chicken, why would they name him Boss Hog? Was this supposed to be ironic? I mean, personally, I would have named him Boss Hog, but I would have made him eating pork ribs or other type of pig (aka, hog) meat…His name just makes no sense. Also, his white suit makes no sense.  Didn’t he (or at least the costume designers for the show) know the thing about how dark colors have a slimming effect? Obviously not…. Finally, why would you always wear white if you’re going to eat chicken all the time? It’s not smart. Boss Hog wasn’t smart. And he was mean. And he had a strange car with horns on it. I didn’t like him. I wanted him to get kicked off the show.

3) Luke Duke. These names won’t stop. It’s fine that it rhymed I guess. But why did everyone think of Luke as the “ugly Duke”? Luke was NOT ugly. But even I thought of him as the ugly Duke boy. I wonder if that hurt Luke (I mean, Tom Wopat who played Luke)? Or was he just happy to be famous and rich? Well Luke, you were just as hot as Bo. Well, okay, not really, but I mean, you were definitely handsome. Also, you were the smart one. The one who looked before you leapt. (By the way, Is leapt a word? You were the smart one, so you probably know. Bo, on the other hand…doubt it. )

3) If Bo was a Duke, why did he look so different from the other Dukes? Look at Daisy and Luke–total brunettes. Bo…bleach blond hair. Kind of like Uncle Jessee (Diasy’s dad). Is it me, or is something’s not fitting together here? Hey, and why are three cousins living together in the first place? I mean, come on. If you need to live with someone, you move in with your brother, not your cousin. And definitely not with your female cousin if you’re a male. The whole family set up…just really bizarre.

4) Roscoe P. Coletrain. I really liked the way he coined the mean name “dipstick.” Did everyone use this term to insult people in the 2nd grade, or was this just a Southern thing? I have to say, though, other than this, I felt Roscoe contributed very little to the show. I mean, the town had like five people in it. How could you be a police officer (as Roscoe was) and never manage to catch two people in a town with a total population of five? Also, Roscoe talked way too much on his CB.  Perhaps if he had put his dumb CB down, he could have caught the Duke boys at least ONCE or TWICE. I wanted Roscoe off the show along with Boss Hog. I wanted it to just be Daisy, Uncle Jessee, the Duke Boys, and Enos (except with a normal name like Jeff or Randy).

5) Remember that song? That song seriously rocks. I’m singing it right now. “Just a good ole boys, never meanin’ no harm”…Well, those words don’t make sense. Did I get the words right? Whatever, it’s a hot song. Someone needs to remake that thing.

Well, I think this covers my questions for now. Unfortunately “getting them out” didn’t help me feel any better. AND as I was thinking through these issues, I somehow started remembering the show “The Love Boat” (I think because at one point it came on the same night as the Dukes–on Fridays)…and then “Fantasy Island”…that show didn’t have issues–it pretty much was just one big dark void of eeriness and confusion, but I loved it for that reason. Also there were good love stories on it, unlike on the “Love Boat,” which SHOULD have had good love stories but didn’t.

Well, thank you for letting me air these concerns. I do hope at some point I can resolve these questions and just kind of move on with coping with the car I now have that has racer stripes.

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Man, cars have caused me a lot of up’s and down’s lately. We finally got rid of my husband’s %&$# BMW. It made me so happy. I was cruising in my crashed up Impala feeling so free. Free of car payments, that is… For maybe 6 months. Then, out of the blue, my husband suddenly he started talking cars again. Hu? But we’re free. If you had the key to a jail cell, would you use the key to let yourself back in? No, of course not! You’d use the key to get out and stay out.

But not my husband. He suddenly not only decided that he needed a car. He needed a big car. He actually got over the whole BMW or Mercedes type car…He always felt afraid of scratching it or something like that. So he decided the next car will be tougher, a more standard brand, and big.

That would all be fine, except that he can’t just have a big car. It literally has to be the biggest car in the world. Which one? Chevy Tahoe. I think those cars look great. They are very comfortable. But hi, you need to have space to park it. Space is something we don’t have.

So I refused to agree with this purchase. It’s too big. It will use too much gas (my husband’s commute is over an hour each way). And who would be paying for this thing during the months my husband doesn’t work? Me. But not me. Because as I said, I refused to agree with this purchase.

Every time we were out, I kept pointing to other cars, trying to find cars that are big, yet slightly smaller than the biggest car in the world. For example, Toyota Highlanders. Those things are huge. I was ready to compromise. I could have gone for a Highlander. But nooooo. No. Not big enough. How about a Ford Explorer? Those are pretty big. Nooooo. Those aren’t made anymore; also, they don’t have the 3rd seat in back like mini-vans have.  We need that so we can fit our family in the car, plus other people. (What? Who? Why?)  How about a smaller Chevy? Like an Equinox. Those things are hot. And they are big. But nooooo. No, says Husband-With-Void-That-Cannot-Be-Filled-No-Matter-How-Big-The-Car-Is, the Equinox is just like our Impala. Hey! Good idea! Let’s just get another Impala! A used one for like $10,000. Talk about a great idea. But again, no.

Then I got fed up with trying to negotiate. We didn’t talk for maybe 3 weeks, and I wanted to divorce him and move back to Tennessee. Those were some very exciting weeks for me. And I think for him as well! However, as fate would have it, we began speaking again. And I will not be moving to Tennessee as I’d fantasized. And I will not be marrying Hot Boss as I also fantasized. Oh well. Those dreams were fun while they lasted.

Then a miracle happened. The car conversations suddenly took a turn for the better. In fact, it was pretty much a 360-degree turn that made me go from feeling disgusted and sad to really excited. My husband said these magic words: “What about a Mustang?”

What about a Mustang, it IS. I instantly loved the idea. And you know, literally any Mustang will do. I think he’s going to go for the most expensive possible Mustang, probably some type of collector’s edition (is that the right term) mint type gem. Whatever. We determined the price limit. Whatever he finds in that is GREAT. I can’t wait to own that thing.

But wait–then I told him I’m going to drive it. His face fell so fast I thought he was going to faint. Get outta here. So I run cars into walls when I try to park. Big deal Buddy. Mustang’s are tough. That’s why you get them!

And I realized something…I think I’m going to need my own Mustang.

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