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Tue 28 Feb, 2006 08:39 pm
I haven't tried to pawn off Mr. B in a few years. Some of you might remember the pantry incident and how that was resolved in my favor. Things have been coasting along a-okay-ish for years now.
But the time has come to find him a new home.
At least temporarily.
Here's what you should know about him:
He really is a good guy. Really.
(Really.)
He has a good sense of humor.
(Sometimes it is a little hard to understand. It will always be a good idea to keep up with current events.)
He has a good job. He works hard. He's successful by most standards.
(And he won't bore you by talking about it all the time.)
His looks have often been compared to Hugh Grant.
(Okay, he's put a little weight on this year but he's not nearly as twitchy as Hugh Grant and (as far as I know) he doesn't frequent prostitutes.
Imagine Hugh Grant as a huskier, unfamous, Norwegian/Cherokee. Mr. B looks like that.)
He likes children, animals and low-maintence women.
(Seriously. I know how to pick 'em.)
He showers daily.
(And the bathroom will smell wonderfully masculine for a good bit afterwards.)
He has put up with me for 20-something years.
(Need I say more?)
The problem?
When he gets sick he is the biggest fricken pansy, arsehole, in the entire frikken universe. (I'm pretty compasionate but I am SO not kidding here.)
It was Phillip Roth (I think) who wrote in "Portnoy's Complaint (I think) that "when a man is sick he wants his mother. If he can't have his mother then any woman will do."
So I'm out cruising for Any Woman other than me to come hold his clammy, insensitive hand.
In exchange, you can keep him.
But I get visiting rights.
Any takers?
Why is he against seeing prostitutes?
Well, at least he won't be soul-sucking-sick for more than a couple days, yes?
Can somebody be "against seeing" anything?
Would that mean people who intentionally blind themselves?
I don't know anyone quite that crazy.
Why don't you come find out littlek!!?
I don't remember the pantry incident. Is is documented here somewhere?
I'm sorry to hear that you have a giant baby to care for, boomer. I wish him a swift recovery so you can get back to real life.
The pantry incident was WAY back on Abuzz.
I could probably deal with a giant baby, mac, it's the arsehole part that always gets me.
I'm against seeing boogers. Don't like 'em. (We're winding up a sick patch ourselves. E.G. goes the stoic route -- he's either "fine" or needs to go to the ER [which has happened, more than once]. However, while that has its charms, it's paired with a profound LACK of sympathy when anyone else is sick -- even if we're not total pansies about it.)
Boomer - no thanks! Got sick kids and needy animals in my life already.
Ohhhh......!!!!!!
It's that lack of sympathy thing.....!!!!!!!
I've got to go give Mo a bath so everyone is lucky I can't get started right this minute on the LACK thing....!!!!!!
(Are you really, really sure that EG and Mr. B are not the same person?)
When I grow up I'm going to be littlek.
Mr B, EG, and my sister could all have been seperated at birth.
Yeah, it's the lack of sympathy that I have trouble with. I once had a boyfriend tell me to call him when I was well - I was too sick to tell him off, though I did a few days later.
boomerang wrote:When I grow up I'm going to be littlek.
Sarcasm is so hard to read online.
Oh. So, you want to be a silly person like me?
As Kurt Vonnegut might say...
Listen:
Mo and I have been sick for the last many days. I mean really sick. Being sick makes Mo mean. Being sick makes me want to not move.
Mo gets to be mean but I still have to move.
Mr. B asks us each morning how our "cold" is on his way out the door to work.
Today he caught our "cold", the poor dear.
He called me whining. I told him to come home.
He came home.
I said "DO YOU NEED ME TO GET YOU ANYTHING SPECIAL AT THE STORE? PLEASE TELL ME NOW IF YOU DO. I'LL BE HAPPY TO GO GET IT."
(I wasn't yelling but I was being serious.)
He: No.
Me: Are you sure? Nothing?
He: No.
One hour later.....
He: Could you go get me some stuff from the store?
Me: (Checking clock -- 5:15 -- the ultimate crowded grocery store time (not to mention traffic).)
Ummmm...... okay......
He: Blah. Blah. Blah. Blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblah.
Me: (Taking notes) This is how I want to be treated the next time I say "I'm sick".
He: (jaw drops)
Me: (Driving to store... singing Meatloaf's "Two out of three", devising way to pawn him off on some unsupecting female, banging head on steering wheel) When I grow up, I'm going to be littlek.....
......and..... what exactly is good about my life? That I am single? You can't (said like the old black and white movie stars would say it) be serious!
I think you should video tape him being a poopity head.
C'mon littlek.
Take a chance.
You have family here. You'd be happy in Portland!
He's not that bad!
Really!
A video tape?
He'd be Mr. Charm Boy.
His nickname wasn't "Hips and Lips" for nothing, you know.
I'm a sucker for a pretty face.
(And a few other things.)
I'm gonna call his momma in the morning and blame her for his poppity-headness.
(But I LOVE his momma. Honestly.
He comes with some incredible in-laws.
Bonus!!!!)
I think you should call his momma! That'd be great.
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