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Okay Okay I Lied…Sue Me

There’s nothing worse than a long, drawn out bunch of snivel in a confession – so I’ll keep this short.

I lied. I misrepresented myself. I misspoke.

I said that I have always been unfunny.
Technically speaking, this statement is untrue.

I WAS funny…once.

And no, I don’t mean that I used to be funny once upon a time. I mean that I was funny ONE time, and one time only. This singular event took place long ago, in a land of bliss, far, far away…

It was 1997. We were living in a little townhouse on post, making our way through the world to the tune of an Army soldier’s pay. I was pregnant (again) and ready to pop at any moment. There were no surly teenagers in our life, no slamming doors, no soccer carpools, no homework, and no peanut-butter sandwiches to make every morning with the crust cut off just so. Life was simple, and we were happy.

I remember that day quite clearly.

I was standing at the sink washing dishes. Sunlight was streaming through the window. Our three-year old was taking a nap and I was looking forward to a lazy Saturday afternoon. Todd got up off the couch and was headed for the fridge I’m sure, when he was distracted by the vision of his lovely wife – barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.

He walked up behind me and slipped his arms around my pumpkin belly. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear. I smiled at the memory of a similar kitchen event that landed me in my current condition. I leaned back against his chest. I tilted my head up for a kiss. He angled his head down to meet my lips…

and then I saw them.

Dozens of enormous black tentacles reaching out at me. They grew longer with every passing millisecond, each one a thick, dark spike threatening to impale my face. I froze in absolute horror. At that precise angle I had a perfect, straight up view of my husband’s long-overdue-for-a-trim nose hairs.

Slowly, I began to realize what I was looking at. The scream that I had prepared to launch subsided in my throat. My heart rate started to normalize and sound came whooshing back into the room. I heard the words as if they were spoken from far away,

“Wow, are you saving those to tickle my ass with later?”

I watched, befuddled, as the expression on my husband’s face went from confusion, to surprise, to shock, to amazement, to all out bent-over-body-rocking laughter. When he started wiping the tears from his eyes, it dawned on me that I was the one who had spoken.

I can’t explain it. I don’t know how it happened or why. Perhaps it was the first time I was possessed by OtherMe. I don’t think I’ll ever know for sure. But it was, without a doubt – funny. Mr. Hilarious himself was reduced to tears of laughter and that’s proof enough for me.

So there you have it. I lied. I also lied about keeping this short. Sue me.

-TMarie

5 Comments

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  1. Andy #
    February 7, 2011

    So…DID he save them and tickle your ass later??? I hate when you leave us hanging like this…

    • February 7, 2011

      Dear Andy, This line of questioning is somewhat inappropriate for public discourse. Sadly, I must leave you in suspense. – TMarie

  2. GMartin #
    February 7, 2011

    Dear TMarie,

    The young male of the human species has no concept of unruly nose hairs. Then comes an inflection point in male development, usually occurring when the middle aged male is seated in the barber chair. Out of the blue, the standard barbering routine is interrupted when the barber says “you’ve got some snakes there, let me take care of that”. Then, without ceremony, the barber inserts the tips of his scissors into the middle aged male’s nostrils, and he then goes to town shearing the overgrown crop of vines, which had clandestinely taken root. The middle aged male is shocked by the action, but remains calm. After all, the barber has probably had a few bourbons, and he is dancing around with a sharp piece of steel inches away from the backside of the middle aged male’s eye sockets. Hours later, the middle age male blows his nose, and is shocked by the volume of gnarly detritus appearing on the tissue. Years later, the standard barbering routine will be interrupted again, but this time it will be for celery-like stalks emanating from the ears.

    • February 7, 2011

      Dear GMartin, While I myself am appalled by the amount of time and money spent on hair removal by both men and women in this country, I do find it much more pleasant in appearance than the alternative. And so I say – Barbers of the world, rock on! (Keep on clipping that crap and then take out that unibrow.) – TMarie
      PS – Your profile picture is freaking me out.

  3. J. Dawg #
    February 16, 2011

    Celery stalks make wonderful french ticklers…..I hear.
    Personal body hair is just nasty, why hasn’t it devolved by now, eh?
    Now I am totally grossed out.
    Erase memory in order to continue life with pleasant face!

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