Still there? Phew! Perhaps you noticed that my first two posts back from hiatus were light on function and heavy on, “Hey people, let’s have a party and invite all my personality flaws! Last to admit something embarrassing and shameful does a keg stand!” As luck would have it, I both won and lost that game. Next time, someone (anyone!) remind me that Hemingway advised, “Write drunk, edit SOBER,” not, “Write drunk, edit drunk, publish drunk, it’ll be funny!” (Well maybe a little funny—in that dark comedy, Little Miss Sunshine, oh-sweet-baby-Jesus-WHY-is-she-doing-a-strip-tease?! kinda way.)
The point is, before the pendulum can settle in the middle (i.e. something approaching functional), it first has to swing allll the way over; in this case, allll the way to stupid! Which is where I am right now, thinking and writing in my happy, stupid place. Thankfully I’m in a marriage wherein ridiculous conversations are the preferred method of communicating, thereby offering me endless material for happy, stupid posts and you, reasons to feel better about yourself. It's a win-win, dolls!
SO, you’ve gotten a nice long drag of the deep stuff; now here’s a peak at the silly stuff. You know, the good stuff...
Background: Ranger hides, just BARELY beneath the surface, a cantankerous old man. He appears any time Hollywood, Liberals, or Hollywood can be blamed for whatever is currently pissing him off. Soo, pretty often. Though not quite the benevolently cranky grandpa of your youth, he is harmless, and when he’s not making me angry, he’s making me laugh. I KNEW I couldn’t get through a whole post without saying something I’d regret!
The scene: Phone call between Ranger and me. Enter cantankerous old man alter-ego, ranting away…
Ranger:…Ugh, sorry, that was uncalled for, wasn’t it?
Me: Yeah well, it was your crotchety old man coming out again—you can’t seem to help it. I think maybe it’s time to name him. *In my head: Hmm, Walter…Walter…why can’t I get the name Walter out of my head?! It’s not that great of a crotchety old man name; I can do better.
Ranger: What about Walter?
Me: OH MY GAWWWD, I was just thinking that! Seriously, I’m so weirded out right now I have goose bumps!
(Ranger, laughing like a good husband and riding out my dorky outburst.)
Me again: I mean, it’s not the obvious choice of names here so it has to be fate, right? Too bad.
Ranger: Why is it too bad?
Me: Because I was thinking ‘bout the dark-haired dude in Grumpy Old Men. He would’ve been perfect! Damn it, what was his name?
Ranger: Umm, I don’t know about his character’s name but (wait for it…) his real name was Walter Math—
Me, with goose bumps up to the eyeballs: SHUT UP! YOU HAVE GOTTA BE SHITTING ME!!!
Obviously, infinite cosmic powers and all the magic in Dora’s Crystal Kingdom have acknowledged Walter as a real and lawful interloper in my relationship, not just what I’d imagined was a glimpse at my future wife-beater wearing, shot-gun baring, hairy-eared husband protecting his lawn.
Not exactly the kind of threesome I was talking about, Universe.
See, stupid ;0)
PS. I was just kidding about that threesome comment. Really!