The “Bad Husband” Chronicles

Just another day for you and me in Paradise

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Chapter 21

Posted by mozziestarlet on October 8, 2008

8am: I arrive to the office and receive an IM from my favorite co-worker, ‘Mack the Knife, that truly hard-working fella that arrives before 7am every morning. He tells me to come to his office ASAP for the funniest story in the world. Being a fan of comedy, particularly in regard to my imbecile co-workers, I quickly make my way to his office. He proceeds to tell me that he accidentally called ‘Deer in Headlights’ on her cell phone instead of her office phone at 6am. Unbelievably, she answered the phone between snores. The absolute kicker of the story is that even though she was awake at 6am, she still couldn’t make it to the office until 9:45. Classic!

10am: An hour has passed since my 9am deadline to the involved parties in the office to send me their input for a proposal to a client. Reluctantly, I send out another email requesting their information ASAP. Two more hours pass and I haven’t heard a peep out of them. It looks like another all-nighter is in store for me.

1pm: ‘Deer in Headlights’ stops by my office to tell me that ‘Clueless VP’ is just now reviewing the proposal, despite the fact that he’s had it in his possession for nearly three weeks. I’ve said it many times, but I’ll say it again: “Poor planning on his part always constitutes an emergency on my part.” God bless him.

3pm: I leave my office to head out of the office suite to the lobby restroom. The property managers for our office building have been working on renovations to the building for over three months now. I am immediately knocked off my feet by the paint fumes filling the air. ‘Old Mother Hubbard,’ the Executive Assistant to the CEO, informs me to use the downstairs restroom because they have broken up the floor tile in the upstairs restroom and it is not suitable to use. ‘Old Mother Hubbard’ and I step aboard the elevator together to head downstairs. The elevator doors close and she begins to tell me how nauseous the paint fumes are making her. I completely agree with her and smile in return. After thirty seconds pass, she begins to gag and dry heave. Being on an elevator in transit with another person who is about to hurl is my favorite place to be.

5pm: The CEO, who practices a strict ‘closed door policy’ as far as he is concerned, emerges to circulate among the slaves for the first time in nearly six months. He does his trademark ‘Mr. America’ stroll through the office, waving and blowing kisses at all of us. I have to bite my lip to keep from saying, “Hey there, have a good Christmas!” Keep in mind, my friends, it is only October.

“My future starts when I wake up every morning.  Every day, I find something creative to do with my life.”

– Miles Davis

Posted in "Bad Husband" Chronicles, Bad boss, Bad Husband, bad marriage, bad spouse, Comic Wit, Difficult Spouse, Divorce, Dogs, family, Funny, Humor, Irony, Life, Marriage, marriage problems, Morrissey, Office drama, office humor, office politics, Pets, poetry, relationships, sarcasm, Spouse, wives | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

A Dog’s Purpose (from a six year-old)

Posted by mozziestarlet on October 3, 2008

A touching story so worthy of sharing…

Being a veterinarian, I was called to examine a ten year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker’s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, “I know why.”

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, “People are born so that they can learn how to live a good Life — like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The six year-old continued, “Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

Live simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure Ecstasy.

Take naps.

Stretch before rising.

Run, romp, and play daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

Be loyal.

Never pretend to be something you’re not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.

And most of all, enjoy every moment of every day.

Posted in "Bad Husband" Chronicles, Bad Husband, bad marriage, bad spouse, Comic Wit, Difficult Spouse, Divorce, Dogs, family, Funny, Humor, Life, Love, Marriage, Office drama, office humor, office politics, Pets, relationships, sarcasm, Spouse, wives | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Chapter 7

Posted by mozziestarlet on September 25, 2008

9am: It’s Saturday morning and I am looking forward to a quiet and peaceful morning spent in recovery from managing the Goat Ropers’ Rodeo in my office. The husband meanders downstairs and brightens my early morning routine by proclaiming: “Babe, check it out! Look what I found!” My curiosity is naturally peeked so I glance over to see what hidden treasure he has undoubtedly unearthed from the clutter of his living quarters. “It’s my high school class ring! Isn’t that SO cool?” I smile and give him my ‘Aww, isn’t that SPECIAL?’ look when I notice that not only has he found his high school class ring from 1982, but is now also WEARING it. Given that we are all the exact same size as we were during our high school years, this makes complete sense that he has squeezed his 1982 high school class ring onto his chubby finger.

10:30am: The husband is beginning to show signs of loss of circulation in the finger now sporting his 1982 high school class ring. He’s trying to remain cool and collected like every man does, but I detect the panicked look in his eyes. In my peripheral vision, I notice that he is now twiddling and maneuvering the ring in a desperate attempt to get it off his finger and with no such luck.

11am: The husband is now in the bathroom trying to locate any and every possible form of household lubricant to remove the high school class ring. I give myself a ‘thatta girl’ pat on the back for purchasing the family size container of liquid soap a few days earlier that is now a dire necessity. The husband begins groaning and moaning because the class ring simply will not budge. His finger has now completely swollen over the entire circumference of the ring and is a lovely shade of burgundy.

11:30am: The husband has begun to employ desperate measures to remove the class ring and restore proper circulation to his right hand. He has now made his way outside to rummage through his survival kit of random tools and necessities that clearly includes a tool labeled as ‘What to use when you are a complete imbecile and nothing else is working.’ He makes his way back into the den with a tiny, thread-like survival saw in his hand. He then proceeds to loop the thin thread beneath the space between his class ring and now swollen finger and begins to saw back and forth. I temporarily excuse myself to the bathroom where I proceed to pee in my pants from the absolute comedy unfolding.

12:30pm: After an hour of employing the ‘What to use when you are a complete imbecile and nothing else is working’ survival saw, I recommend to the husband that we call 911 before the situation gets any more serious. Within 10 minutes, the paramedics arrive to assess the dire situation involving the husband and his newfound appreciation for his 1982 high school class ring. Given that paramedics are trained in truly unpredictable events and to ‘Never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups,’ I know that they will be able to immediately rectify the problem.

1pm: After 30 minutes of trying to remove the class ring, the paramedics concur that the husband will need to be taken to the hospital where appropriate removal measures will be taken. The husband reluctantly climbs aboard the ambulance and begins sharing the truly nostalgic notion that led him to try on his 1982 high school class ring in the first place. All of the paramedics are completely moved and touched by the husband’s heartwarming tale and total grasp of good judgment.

1:15pm: I stand at the front door and wave goodbye to the husband, his swollen finger, and his 1982 high school class ring as they head off to the hospital. It’s always good to know that your family has helped the local medical community reach their daily imbecile quotient.

5pm: The husband arrives back home from the hospital with his finger in a splint. Apparently, during all of his desperate maneuvering earlier in the day, he managed to break the finger that sported his 1982 class ring. I take one look at the broken finger, now supported by a metal splint, and completely lose all composure as I break into a hysterical laughing spell. Between the class ring, the liquid soap, the survival saw, the paramedics, and now the splint…it’s just too much, even for me!

Posted in "Bad Husband" Chronicles, Bad Husband, bad marriage, bad spouse, Comic Wit, Difficult Spouse, Divorce, family, Funny, Humor, Life, Love, Marriage, Morrissey, Spouse, wives | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Chapter 5

Posted by mozziestarlet on September 24, 2008

8am: I practice the clever ‘boot scootin’ boogie’ from the front door of the house to my car. The husband’s parking talents continue to amaze me as he leaves just enough room between his car and mine to put a really impressive dent in my car door. My ‘custom’ paint job is the envy of all my neighbors.

8:15-8:45am: I retreat into my daily lyrical bliss of my true husband, Morrissey. I count the reasons in my head of why I’m convinced he should marry me. I will definitely need to chronicle these reasons later in the day because I’m 100% certain that I can present a worthwhile argument.

9am: I do the ‘happy, happy, joy, joy’ skip from my office to the conference room for the Monday 9am staff meeting. ‘Clueless VP’ has impeccable scheduling abilities and always takes into account the Monday morning commute for everyone in the office.

11am: The husband phones me at the office to tell me his car won’t crank. Given that I apparently keep an Auto Repair Guide on my hip at all times, I immediately know how to solve the problem.

12:30pm: The husband phones me at the office again to ask if I can “have lunch with him.” My husband ‘lingo and behavioral translator’ immediately decodes the message to mean that he wants me to spend my hour lunch by bringing lunch to him.

2pm: Time for a meeting with my favorite co-worker, ‘Deer in Headlights,’ a real dumb as a stump girl who always has a surprised look on her face no matter what we are talking about. She amazes me how she can live in a constant state of exhaustion from chatting on IM all day. My sympathy is beyond expression.

6pm: I arrive home to be greeted by my ‘Chatty Kathy’ neighbor next door. I’m convinced that she must work for the CIA, as she is able to predict the precise moment every evening that I pull into my driveway. I smile as she makes her way over to my yard. Heavy briefcases and arms full of filing folders are no deterrent to a woman with nothing but time on her hands.

7pm: Praise, the Lord for Easy Mac dinners. The husband and I would certainly starve to death without them on a regular basis. 100 ways to make Mac-n-Cheese ranks higher than The Catcher in the Rye in terms of required reading material.

9pm: I decide to attempt a meaningful conversation with the husband who is exhausted and drowsy from surfing the net all day. I’m astounded that a person can be asleep, but still manage to increase the volume on the TV while I’m talking. Surely, the odds surrounding that are staggering!

11pm: Time for a brief episode of the ‘Let Mama love the puppy game’ with the dog. This is when I say, in my best beck and call voice, “Come see Mama and let’s play the Let Mama love the puppy game.” This is, without a shadow of a doubt, the highlight of every day as I am showered with puppy affection that is almost entirely unsolicited. The best part of the game is that he manages to stay awake until I am finished!



Posted in Bad Husband, Comic Wit, Divorce, family, Funny, Humor, Life, Love, Marriage, Morrissey, Spouse, wives | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »