Minneapolis hosts what might be my wife’s dream concert on March 22nd. If you are unfamiliar with Mr. WK’s work, go ahead and click that video. There can be questions about his legitimacy, but man to hell with that. It’s pretty much just going to be awesome.
So since that’s settled, let’s talk about something else. When I first started writing for public consumption back in 2002, I once lead a column off with a kind of sappy happy birthday for my then girlfriend and now wife. A dude emailed me and told me I should quit and die. It seemed a little harsh, so I decided to call him out on it. He explained that I was being douchey by talking about my significant other and trying to be a big shot. Well guess what randomasshole@probablyaol.com, I’m gonna do it again. So, suck it.
I met my wife in 2001, and I actually told my friend the next day that I was going to marry her. I know it sounds sappy as hell, but it is very true. I will call him and he can back me up. Since then, there hasn’t been a moment where I wasn’t in awe of my dumb luck. Because somehow, I always feel like at any moment she’s going to realize how much better she is at existing than me. She paints and makes jewelry. She knows Smothers Brothers bits. She drinks good beer. She still will quote old wrestling promos on occasion and usually when you least expect it and need it most. She loves Arrested Development and Steinbeck. She grew up listening to Tom Waits and Bob Dylan. She is passionate about things where I have grown apathetic. She is so much cooler than me it is astonishing.
As of late, we have kind of slipped into a dull routine. I know this isn’t exactly atypical for people who have been together as long as we have, and the rigors of modern life and parenting weighing down on us a bit too much. I get home and have a laptop permanently attached to my nether region working on this blog and my other assorted projects, or even just stabbing F5 on Facebook to see if anyone has liked something I’ve posted. She usually gets home, makes us dinner and then works on a craft project. Then sleep. Then repeat. I’m usually super exhausted because I only get about three hours of sleep a day, give or take, so we aren’t exactly a big bastion of energy or excitement the few moments we do spend together.
That’s why I’m excited to get out of town for a bit, so we can have at lest a couple of days to be friends instead of just household partners. Also, so she doesn’t think I am purposefully ignoring her all the time. So, consider this a public apology for becoming lame at 31. For my penance, I offer no excuses, just partying!
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