If you have been reading for sometime you may already know that my dear husband is a simple man, of few words, usually profanity. This is always humorous to me because he is such a sweet guy, but not romantic.

Tonight’s gem, while watching Val and Janel dance on ‘Dancing with the Stars’: “They have a fuckey vibe.”

Translation: He thinks their chemistry is too good to be platonic.


I was telling my husband good night (he was going to sleep on the couch so I could attempt to medificate myself into a coma) and I said:

Honey, do me a favor? Bring me something home tomorrow.

Him: what do you want?

Me: I don’t know, surprise me. Just bring me something.

Him: do you mean like, food?

Me: Whatever you want.

Him: lotion?

Me: uh…sure, if you think I need lotion. I’ll take lotion. I just meant something thoughtful.

Him: I don’t understand.


Me: Babe, just surprise me. Bring me something home.

Him: I could bring you a bubble wrap helmet.

Me: ( wtf look?)

Him: I could make it at work…you know you could wear it when you get headaches.


I know my husband sucks at gifts, (He once got me the entire He-Man: Masters of the Universe series – I don’t know why) but this is an all-time low.

The thing I don’t get about my husband

I love my husband. No, wait….I adore my husband. I have reason to. He is THE man.

I have said that in the lottery of men, I have won the jackpot. My girlfriends have called my husband the The Holy Grail of men. He’s a nice guy, he treats me like a queen. Heck, he’ll even refer to me as his queen on occasion. He loves me just the way I am. He gets me. He has no addictions or vices. He’s taken on my kids as his own and if you know my story, you know this is not your typical step-dad situation here. I have an adopted, special needs child, which means life can be chaos. The man accepts it all.

We love each other. We actually make people sick. We’ve been told that. Not in a mean way. But, in a nice way. We’ve been told by more than one of our friends that we are the epitome of what a relationship should be. We are “in love”, we are best friends and we totally and completely get each other.


There is this one, itty, bitty thing that I really don’t get about my husband and it bothers me. A LOT.

My husband has naked women tattooed on him.

I don’t know how this happened or why he decided this should happen. It was before we met and like the real, fleshy women who came before my time, I really don’t feel like it’s something I want to know a whole lot about. However, now that I’ve compared it to real, fleshy women – I guess I wouldn’t understand if he was holding on to pictures of old, naked girlfriends either. Back to what I was saying….He has three of them. They are like pin-up girls. I guess his first tattoo was the Betty Page with devil horns on his right forearm. The second would’ve been the Roxie, on his left upper arm and then the last, which is a ah-MAZE balls, artistically speaking, but the worst from a feminist perspective, is this bondage chic on his lower right leg.

They normally don’t bother me in our day to day activities, and he is pretty good about trying to wear long sleeves and pants, but obviously you can’t do this year round or when you’re playing sports. So they’re times when I look down and think, “Geesh, honey – could you tuck your pornography away?” Like…when we’re hanging out with other people’s kids and I notice the kids noticing,  when he’s coaching one of the kids sports, when we’re swimming at our gym or in my Grandma’s swimming pool with the whole family, counseling sessions with Pickle, when we are at a parent/teacher conferences, at church. I mean, it does get a little awkward.

Have you ever met a guy with tattoos like this? I have. A couple times over. They’re awful. I mean like the most despicable, degrading towards women, pieces of crap, scumbags EVER. And my husband is not even remotely close to that. In fact, he’s the furthest thing from that. I don’t want people to EVER assume anything like that about him. He’s the most respectful man I’ve ever been with. He’s huge on respect and I want everyone to know that and to see that and to appeciate that.

Usually when people get tattoos they symbolize something for them, they mean something to them…you know,  say something about who they are?

What the hell does this mean?

What on Earth possessed this decision? Not once – but three times???

I just don’t get it.

This will always be the thing I don’t get about my husband and I wish it didn’t bother me, but it does.


This is an ode to Hubster.

The guy who worked a twelve hour day, came home with a Frosty for my sore throat, tucked me into bed, then got the kids settled and got them tucked into bed.

AND THEN when I told him he was the most awesome husband ever, made a face at me like I was dumb for saying so, because its what he’s supposed to do.

Hooray for men who handle their business and don’t expect a blow job for their efforts. MUAH! I love ya!

My husband

A lot of people have told me that I don’t say much about my husband.  I assume that means as compared to how much I used to talk about my El Chuba Douchebag.

Why is that? Why do we have less to say when we’re happy?

I don’t have much to say because he’s a fairly simple man. He gets up and goes to work at 4 am so that he can work 8 hours before he comes home to meet the kids off the bus. He does homework with them and makes dinner on week nights so that we can sit down and eat when I get home. He even does the dishes. My girlfriends tell me that in the lottery of men, I hit the jackpot.

But he also snores, loudly, he omits smells from his body that I could never find words for, he plays video games for Christ Sake and he hits all my buttons when we disagree, it’s really annoying. He’s still a man, he’s done and said stupid, stupid things.

But the best thing about him, the thing that makes me know that he is without a doubt the guy for me, you know, THE ONE….is that he gets me. We can have an argument over laundry and hang up the phone on each other and when I talk to him again its as if it never happened. If I tell him I’m sorry he takes me in his arms and say he knows it was just stress talking, kisses me on my forehead and that’s the end of it. Sometimes when I get mad and talk crap, he’ll laugh just because whatever I said was so funny, even if it was in the heat of the moment.

I make it sound like we fight alot. And we really don’t but its usually those times when I notice that he gets me the most.

Mostly, I just like that we go to bed an hour before when we actually want to sleep because we know were going to lay in bed and talk about whatever enters our head, we’re gonna laugh, then we’ll cuddle up and some nights we fall asleep and some nights the snuggles leads to kisses and the kisses lead to, well….you get the point.  But no matter what he’s there every night when I go to sleep and he texts me every morning when he knows I’m getting up to tell me good morning and I love you.

I just like having a partner. I love that it’s him.