this week = grounds for divorce (days 353 – 359)

this week = grounds for divorce (days 353 – 359)

DAY 353

I’m ghost-writing a book.  Unbeknownst to me, my husband writes the following in the manuscript:

The toilet.  This is where you go to poo or pee.  If you poo, wipe your butt.

Which would’ve been funny if I had noticed it before I sent it to the CEO I’m writing the book for.


DAY 354



Him in a small voice:  “What’s going to happen to me?”

Me:  “I will be drafting an apology e-mail to the CEO.  You will sign your name and send it from your e-mail address.  And that will be that.”

Here’s the e-mail:

Dear Mr. Amrack:

My name is Joe, and I am Alice’s sorry excuse for a husband.  Nice to meet you!  Alice mentioned that you received a draft of the manuscript with some nonsense in it.  That was my fault.  I was goofing around on her computer when she wasn’t looking.

Why would I write something so idiotic?  Basically, because sometimes I can be a maniacal, pinheaded nutfarmer who finds anything to do with the anus, dick, balls, toilets, poop, semen, and pee funny.

I meant it to be a joke.  Instead, it turned into evidence supporting my wife’s long-held theory that I might suffer from a slight strand of Asperger’s.  Or full-blown mental retardation.

She says that nothing but a chemical imbalance could explain why I do things like tell my three-year-old cousin the graphic details of his bris.  Or why I think it’s okay to act out someone “double jerking it” into my parent’s Labrador Retriever’s open mouth Christmas morning.

Mr. Amrack, in one week (if I make it that long), my wife and I fly to Paris to celebrate our one-year anniversary.  That is 14 HOURS OF BEING ON A PLANE TOGETHER.

As a married man, I am sure you realize that I will be punished far beyond what is necessary or reasonable.  I acknowledge that I will be living in my own, personal Hell, orchestrated by my stupidity and carried out by my wife — a woman who the government could rely on to execute kittens or baby lambs if humanity suddenly needed their meat for some reason.


DAY 355

Today I was fired.

The best part about your partner fucking up so badly is that every bad thing you’ve ever done is now obsolete.

#payback  #pooandpeeintoilet


DAY 356

Him:  “There’s a poisonous snake in the garage!”

We go to the garage.

Him:  “I’m going to trap it.”

I sever the snake in half with a shovel.  I look at my husband pointedly.  Then I go back inside.

#payback  #pooandpeeintoilet


DAY 357

I bring home his favorite Baskin Robbins ice cream sundae.

His eyes lite up, and he shouts, “Thanks, babe!”

Then I smash it into the floor.

#payback  #pooandpeeintoilet


DAY 358

He’s watching the season finale of “Game of Thrones.”

I casually walk into the living room, casually announce the ending and casually walk back out.

#payback  #pooandpeeintoilet


DAY 359

I tell him that I’m over it.

But first I make him buy me a scarf from Anthropologie.

#payback  #pooandpeeintoilet


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