Keepn' it real

Since getting married, my boundries for joke-telling have certainly stretched. Especially with friends that are also recently married. Take, for instance, the following examples. (Forewarning, some examples may contain TMI.)

Example one: While on our honeymoon, Prince Charming and I were casually meandering up and down the festive wintery streets, window shopping. There were plenty of cute trinkets, delicate knick-nacks, appetizing candy and whatnot. And then we stopped in front of the store. The store with amusing, clever, suggestive, entertaining shirts, cups, playing cards and anything else you could decorate with sarcastic blather. Up in the corner of the window, my beloved Prince Charming pointed out a onsie. A onsie that was clever, amusing and suggestive. A onsie I would have never thought of purchasing and giving to another mother-to-be. A onsie I now insisted that we go in and purchase immediately for his best man and his wife who are recently married within the last year and already expecting a baby in April. A onsie we did purchase and that I took great enjoyment in sending to the couple. A onsie that read: "Surrender the Boobie" With a pirate smiley face directly beneath the printing. And even now, I get a good giggle out of the saying and only wish I could have been present when they opened the gift, to see the looks on their faces. I'm sure they were overjoyed.

Example two: The second example has to do with my twisted husband. One of his groomsman got married two weeks after we did and when they came back from their honeymoon, they moved to our city and said they would be here on Sunday. We agreed to meet them at their new place and help move them in. Sunday came and after church, Prince Charming and I went back to bed. (We'll just leave it at that.) Later, we were lying in bed when his phone starts ringing. We weren't going to answer it, but it was said groomsman and he was calling to let us know their progress and when to meet them. So, I answered it. A couple sentances into the conversation, my Prince Charming spouts, "Hey! You are interrupting some hot sticky magic!" Mortified, I couldn't say anything else and just tossed the phone to him, while make sure I slugged him good in is stomach. I barely had time to recover and hope that maybe the indelicate comment hadn't been heard by the groomsman, when Prince Charming answers "No, we just finished. We're in the cuddling stage now." Ahhh....how romantic. And, I admit, how very funny. Mom? I'm sorry I've become so un-ladylike. I know you taught me better. But I couldn't help but laugh. And now it is an inside joke between our friends and us. Again, I'm sorry.

There are other examples, but in the hopes that you haven't already run away screaming, then hopped into a hot shower to try to feel clean again and arranged to have your computer ceremonially burned by illiterate eunichs, I'm going to stop now and leave you with a happy, warm and fuzzy picture. Do you forgive me now?

Drowning in Forms

Ahhhh....now to the less glamorous side of getting married. Forms. Everywhere. IRS, SS, Driver's Licensing, Vehicle Licensing, Bank, Insurance, Post office...forms, forms, forms, Forms, FORMS!!

And they all need to be filled out in the right order, with the right color ink and submitted in the right way, at the right time. Otherwise the disgruntled, hates-his-job government worker will come and eat your eyeballs. Then laugh at your misery because making life difficult for the general public that needs his help is the only thing that makes him feel good. He's not nice, I tell you.

I have decided that I will never get divorced if for no other reason than I don't want to have to fill out all these forms again!! Oh, and Prince Charming (PC) can't die first either. I made sure he was aware of that. Because besides the traumatic and overwhelming grief that accompanies such a disaster, do you know what makes it worse? What is the terrible icing on the already terrible cake? FORMS!

I tell ya, we may have a great democracy that is of the people, by the people for the...blah, blah, blah, but Britian got the last laugh. Because even to revolt against them required a form! And I bet that if Thomas Jefferson had written it in blue or red ink instead of black, they would have returned it and charged him for refiling.

From Single To Married

I guess this is supposed to be the blog where I introduce myself, give a brief history, list my goals and reasons for this blog and generally try to be interesting enough that you might come back once every year of the rat and validate my blogging world with a comment or two.

Well, I'm me, I've lived a couple decades or so, my goal is to ramble, and I started it because I wanted to.

I never was good at formalities.

I'm married. Just recently. As in, that mystery "leftover" that has been living in the back left corner of your fridge in the tupeware with the missing top, so you wraped it in 12 feet of plastic wrap and cut yourself on the sharp edge of the plastic wrap box, causing you to curse not only the manufacturer, but also his (or her, we are equal opportunity on this blog) mother, dog and the dog's fleas, that leftover has probably been scaring away hungry scavengers longer than I've been married.

When little girls play dress up in anything white, watch every disney princess known to man, and practice a kind of march that if done in any normal public setting would have you classified as either a stroke victim or "special," they are typically dreaming of prince charming. As we all know, Prince Charming is generally European, about 6'1", has dark hair, blue eyes, and dimples. He wears pressed pants, shining shoes, and pom-poms on the shoulder of his shirts. Oh, and he rides a horse. A white horse. At least, that is what most little girls picture when they line up their stuffed animals to witness the wedding of the century.

I've got news for you. Prince Charming is allergic to horses, is 5' 11", has brown (well, more honey-colored) eyes, a goatee, and wears carhartts and hiking boots. He also carries a knife and leatherman on his hip.

Reality is so much better than fiction.