happy new year, my dear wife
To My Darling Wife,
What a New Years, Maria! I know I apologized earlier while I was revisiting my alcoholic choices in the loo, but I’m truly sorry I dropped that bottle of vodka as we were on our way to your sister’s house. You were so excited, at least I’m assuming that’s what that foreign expression on your face meant, but what good is New Years without a drink or two in your system–especially when family is involved, right? Don’t be upset about missing the gathering. That’s the great thing about New Years, it happens every year, whether or not you’re alive to enjoy it. Things go on, such is life. I’m not saying that to discourage any hope you have regarding your sister’s treatments.
Now, on to more important matters.
I awoke with a start tonight as we were trying to sleep. I was trying to clear my mind of all thoughts but was unable to do so since being medically diagnosed with my large cerebellum. And you, with your heavy breaths that would convince anyone in the world to get over the awkwardness of a CPAP Mask–I’m sorry to digress, darling, but you don’t look like an elephant with that mask. Would you rather be a dead elephant or an elephant that sleeps soundly? And even if you did pass in your sleep with the mask on, I promise I would not participate in any making-fun-ofs when the coroner arrived. I would not mention the floating pink pachyderm I drunkenly imagined only to find your cold body lying next to me in the morning still in that pink fleece sack of a nightgown you insist on wearing. I believe I read somewhere that elephants are cold blooded due to their skin being so thick so that’s probably why I would be fine with a cold, dead elephant next to me in bed… Wait, that doesn’t completely prove my point, but well… I said it was a digression.
Anyway, my love, as you were blissfully comatose with your mixture of pretty blue pills, my mind was racing and I had to get up and pace a bit. I thought to myself, we’ve just entered a new decade, it’s been a whole year since the episode of your “episode,” and 2009′s resolutions have remained untouched. I’m not as rich as you would like me to be, and you haven’t attempted that diet you insisted on putting in air quotes. I thought I should make a new list, and since you never really seem to care much about things of worth other than e-cards these days, I made your resolution list as well. It’s just easier, darling.
1. Join a Gym - It’s important to take care of ourselves, because we don’t want to die young and leave the other to have to pay off extraordinary credit card debt. And if you need it to be, the phrase “joining a gym” can be a malleable definition. It could mean fine-tuning an already well-oiled muscle machine, to which I’m referring to my own frame. It could mean just exercising your tear ducts to control the awful amount of liquid that seeps out when too much boxed wine has entered your system. Or, just finding the strength to remove your legs from beneath the bed covers. Either way, it’s for the best. I don’t want to be married to a fatty. Again, I know it’s a digression, but you had slightly more big to your bones when we were courting, being a size 6 and all, and I thought secretly buying your dress two sizes smaller would inspire you to fit in it. Now I claim “my bad” because, as we all know, instead you just looked like a glowing sausage wrapped in rice paper. I do feel bad for keeping that secret during those three years of our engagement. I thought your own self-deprecation would eventually evolve into motivation. So, yes, back to joining a gym. I’m sure you know of a YMCA or something with all those fruits you hang around with, right? They look fit. Most gays do. Get on that. Not the gays. Don’t get on the gays. They won’t like that.
2. Raise a small dog — Since I don’t like children, I’m sure you can get over those psychosomatic allergies of yours. Here’s what I figure: a small dog is easier to remember than that hopeless charity box coin purse you bring around. It’s easier to run to Pet-Co than to mail pennies in an envelope to a child with a click in its unpronounceable name . Besides, if I don’t spend my extra change on a sugary snack, I come home unbearably cranky. Low blood sugar alone may jeopardize our marriage. I can’t bear to think of such things. And I mean really, what is 25 cents going to do for a family in need? Will they buy their own sugary snacks to help them be less cranky about being starving or having a case of AIDS? Ring up a Zebra Cake and take it home to the family to compliment their dusty bag of rice some hippy brought them? They have Zebras in their front yard so why would I want to confuse them? We’re getting a terrier dog puppy and we’re naming it Chumpo. Or you can name it that clicky name after your charity case. I don’t know why we’re still on this topic, darling. These are resolutions to improve OUR lives, not others.
Well, it seems you’ve woken up, so I’ll have to complete my list another time. God, why did I let you keep that nightgown from your sister’s closet? You look like a pathetic mascot for a breast cancer walk. People see you wearing that and they want to get cancer.
I love you darling, Happy New Year!
Yours,
Charles
P.S. Would you mind taking the trash out in the morning? My resolution is to get more beauty sleep.
Tags: Bits
