Please, no gifts.
Which means that for 3/4 of a year now, my family has been front-and-center for all of you to read, the triumphs, the tragedies, the embarrassing stories, and stuff I can only classify as "evidence" has been my material in the blogging world.
Last week, my husband had enough of my one-sided stories. He called me from work and said he wanted a page of his own, so make one.
Right. His page. But I have to create it. Just like everything else.
And when I worked my magic on Facebook (the world isn't read for a Disgruntled Husband blog, nor does he have the time to maintain one, and God knows I'm not going to do it), he went on there, kicked me off as administrator, and introduced himself to the world.
I drew the picture.
|*Objects may be more disgruntled in real life.|
His first order of business? To start telling two very vague stories where I look like an idiot (at least, how he tells it). I was going to play nice and not tell any of his stories. (And believe you me, he has WAY more than I do. Just ask any couple we've ever been out to dinner with.)
So I came back with two words that I knew would shut him up: Self-Tanner.
I will not be telling that story at this time. Nor will I be telling the story of the shower cleaner, or scented Nair, or dead flowers.
But I can. And that's all the power I need right now.
In the meantime, why not go over to Facebook and "like" his page? If he hits 25 people, he gets to name his page. I have no idea what that means, but Mark Zuckerberg told me that, and it sounds like a good thing.
Also, his birthday is Sunday. He's going to be turning a number divisible by 5. And he's very upset by it. So please either cheer him up with a message or make him laugh. (Or make me laugh with a good age joke.)
This is all in good fun, I promise. You will not be seeing any FB-based marriage counseling through our pages. Vague threats and stories, probably, but nothing that's actually helpful.
Just like our real lives.