Dear Church of Christ:

I am writing today to let you know that I received your letter reneging our membership to the Church of Christ.  I want you to know, it’s totally cool.

However, I am a wee bit surprised that you state, “…we cannot fix a problem if we are not aware of it. Since we have been given no indication of your reasons for leaving us, we cannot address any of those concerns.”

And by “we”, I am assuming you mean the two Elders, Youth Minister, and you, the Minister… since you were the guys that signed this letter.

Fact:

You came to my home and argued for hours with me over “those homosexuals” after I voiced concerns over some sermons that bothered me.

Fact:

You told me that 89% of homosexuals were molested as children. When I called your bluff on this fictional data, and asked you to produce some proof of this, you gave me a pamphlet about a study by a Dr. Robert Spitzer.

I called malarkey. Funny how I called that one, isn’t it?

We then argued some more about this study, and I told you I would leave my children any number of my gay friends. You told me that would be a “grave mistake”. My children would be molested.

We argued some more because that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

Fact:

I told you that you “must not know any gay people personally”.

If you did have a real friend, who happens to be gay, you wouldn’t behave like this. Why? Because gay people are just regular people like you and me. They were born gay, just like you and I were born straight.

You disagreed, and you called it “trendy this day and age to be flamboyant”. Who says that?!

And then you went on and on about how you have sermoned to people who are gay, on their deathbeds, dying of AIDS, and you sang at their funerals after they died, and how they felt alone, and wished they had just never been gay.

I unleashed into a fit of rage since “no one would choose to live a harder life!”… and since I didn’t believe you.

Do you really think “those homosexuals” are the only ones getting and giving AIDS? Your story is make-believe.  Like a giant hate monger fairytale.

Fact:

I told you we would always disagree on this.  But in the meantime, I would continue to attend if you toned down the fire and brimstone sermons.

You never really agreed to it. In fact, you became much worse, with your opinions being spewed all over the pulpet, intertwined with Bible verses.

I know Bible verses, sir. Your personal views don’t go over well with me. I happen to be well versed.

As a Matter of Fact:

I shared many verses with you.

I gave you chance, after chance, after chance to stop preaching hate.

Maybe I could argue with you and show you something.  Maybe you would take something away from my honesty. Maybe I would make a difference in how you think about things. Sometimes it only takes one person to make a difference.

Fact:

The last sermon I attended at the Church of Christ was the one where you told us all not to support The American Red Cross. You know, since they give starving Islamic people bags of beans with a Red Crescent stamped on them (instead of a Red Cross).

I stopped going after that. Not feeding starving people because they don’t believe what you believe was just too much for me.

Starving-war-torn people win every single time. Every. Single. Time.

You Remind Me of This:

Let’s Bring It All Home Now:

1. You wouldn’t marry Shaun and I because I had a child out of wedlock, and he was divorced. The Lutheran Church married us. Regardless, I stuck with you.

2. Even though I attended my WHOLE LIFE SINCE I WAS BORN, you guys pulled my membership once before for not attending. It was after I had that baby out of wedlock and felt very judged, and I fell away for a bit.  And then you wouldn’t marry me once I got my life together.

3. When I wanted to come back, I wasn’t allowed to be a member until my now-husband was baptized in your church. EVEN THOUGH I WAS BAPTIZED IN YOUR CHURCH, NOT ONCE, BUT TWICE (to make sure it stuck).

4. You say you “hate the sin, not the sinner!” Yet, I think you just spew hate. Period. I think you use the words “hating the sin” as an excuse for being a hate monger. Actually, I know it.

5. I refuse to raise my children in a church that teaches hate, and I told you so. Life is hard enough. I told you this isn’t “some hippy-free-love-statement. This is me trying to raise decent human beings. And God forbid one of my children be gay, but what if? If so, their life will be harder. And I hope people will be a little nicer.”

6. You don’t think we should feed starving people of another religion.

7. You use the pulpit to push your personal and political views (and it bothers me when the two mix together – just preach from The Bible) on others.

8. You now seem confused as to why I found church elsewhere. That’s odd to me.

9. Once again, you’ve pulled my membership because I have sin in my life. That’s really what this comes down to. Let’s not beat around the bush. I don’t like what The Church likes, and I was brave enough to take a stand.

10. Things like this turn people away from God/Jesus/The Holy Spirit. Know that.

So Here’s The Thing:

You can keep your church.  I found a new Christian Church where people actually love people.

People really do love others with all the baggage that comes with being a sinner.  I know that’s hard for you to believe.  But it’s true. Thankfully, I wasn’t turned off completely. Not all people are this lucky.

In the words of the great Miranda Lambert:

So I’ll be fine.  I’m going to Heaven, and I know it. I don’t hate people. I love them. Sins and all. Nobody’s perfect! Not even you.

I’ll pray for you. I’ll pray for all of you.

God Bless & Kindest Regards,

Meredith Soleau
Jesus Freak
Sinner
Former Church of Christ Member (Twice Removed) (Literally)

PS – I totally loved Fifty Shades of Grey, and I seriously thought that was what this letter was going to be about when I opened it. I was slightly sad that I didn’t get to tell you about how it helps marriages, and I wanted to argue with you about how you should teach in the Young Married Couples Sunday School class.  Oh, well. Maybe it’s something to consider.

PPS – My friend from your church, Mari, is in no way, shape or form, a Satanic-High-Priestess-Witch. So you can stop sending her that letter from the “Church of Christ”. Actually, you guys should just stop sending letters all together. You never know who has a blog with a loyal readership.

PPPS – I’ll miss the a cappella singing the most. It sounds like what I imagine angels singing sound like. It’s simply perfect. One day… in Heaven… I’ll sing with angels again. Thank you for teaching me to sing and hear a harmony or two. I hope to land a leading role Up There.

© Meredith for Life's Crazy Joke, 2012. | Permalink | 50 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Going to Hell, Hater, Marriage, Parenting

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Land’s End, Curvy Girl Guide, and SELF Magazine have partnered up this year to bring you National Swimsuit Confidence week.

Again, I am thrilled to be a part of this totally awesome campaign.

MY BFF, Brittany, is in New York City this week.  She’s the co-founder of Curvy Girl Guide,  and I am so proud of her and the amazing things she has done with the site to make the lives of everyday women better.

This week she is walking around NYC, in her swimsuit, and taking on a media blitz.  If you’d like to watch her, this is the media schedule that I know of so far:

Today: Wendy Williams Show

Tuesday: Good Morning America

Standing on the internet in my bathing suit all week is one thing, but walking around New York City and being on TV is another all together.  Good job, B.

Okay, enough putting it off.  Here it is, my 2012 swimsuit debut:

Yes, my legs are “bumpy” (according to my four-year-old). Yes, my boobs are saggy (because they’ve fed people). Yes, my nose is crooked (so I’ve tilted my head to overcompensate for that).

BUT I DON’T THINK I LOOK HALF BAD! RIGHT?!

My body has been there and done that. Humans came out of me, and that makes me PROUD of every little bump and curve I’m rocking.

I have swimsuit confidence.

How You Can Join

On Twitter:

Join Lands’ End and SELF Magazine each day May 21 – 25, 2012 from 12:00 – 1:00 p.m. CDST and participate in a series of National Swimsuit Confidence Week events on Twitter.   The weeklong movement was created to celebrate women of all shapes and sizes as well as educate and inspire them to embrace their swimsuit beauty and have fun this summer.  Each day Lands’ End will give away 6 – $50 Lands’ End gift cards each day!

Date: Each Day – May 21 – 25, 2012
Time: 12:00 p.m. – 1:00 p.m. CDST
Location: #confidence
Follow: @LandsEndPR, @SELFMagazine, @LEprMichele, @LEprMariella, @LEprMolly

Or just throw on your bathing suit and post a picture of yourself on the internet this week. Download the badge for your website (if you have one) here: Land’s End Confidence Badge

You can purchase my Land’s End Regatta swimsuit here: Meredith’s 2012 Land’s End Swimsuit

Now we’re at the part where you all leave me comments telling me how much you like the bathing suit.

Yes, I am one of those people that will ask you for a compliment. That’s what this is. Compliment me.

© Meredith for Life's Crazy Joke, 2012. | Permalink | 28 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Fame, Photography

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My stock certificate is on its way via UPS.

I even ordered myself a fun little plaque that says, “How Do You LIKE Me Now?” because I’m an asshole.

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Post tags: Stupid Hobbies

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Her brother cut her a bang. Just one bang.

We both agree. Boys are stupid.

© Meredith for Life's Crazy Joke, 2012. | Permalink | 11 comments | Add to del.icio.us
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It’s official.

I’m the best matchmaker ever.

This weekend I once again successfully matched up two people that hit it off and had a great time.

I invited them to a party and got them drunk.  As with all awkward social situations, I believe in the power of alcohol.  The conversation is funnier, and everyone is taller, stronger, and prettier. Not that the two of them weren’t already beautiful and smart people. So if you take nothing else away from today’s post – take that.

It’s weird to me when people say they can’t find anyone.  Especially since I was one of those people that was never really without a boyfriend for more than a minute.  If Shaun left me tomorrow, I’d probably have a date by Saturday. This sounds vain, but it’s not vain at all.

My constant dating/boyfriend/fiancé/married status has nothing to do with my great hair or giant ego.  It has everything to do with my ability to network.  I know a lot of people, and I find it easy to make new friends (typically with the help of copious amounts of alcohol… after which I become very touchy and close-talky and huggy and call everyone my BFF).

So when I joked about starting a dating service on Facebook yesterday, I was shocked when there were 75 comments on my status within hours.  And it got me thinking.

I really should start a dating service and run it through Facebook because people seem to show their true colors on Facebook.  Everyone needs to find their Shaun Soleau, even it means kissing a lot of frogs along the way.  I’ve kissed a lot of frogs, and I had a lot of fun doing it. Other people need more frog kissing fun in their lives. And eventually they’ll find someone who is a lifetime of fun. I have to pee. And I’m sort of hungry. I wonder if we have any cookies left. 

 “Meredith’s Big Fat Gypsy Facebook Dating Club” Business Plan

It’s probably really stupid to share my business plan online because someone might steal it and turn into some kind of big money maker, but I don’t really care.  I’m not wanting to matchmake for money.  I truly enjoy people falling in love because it makes their lives better.

Also, you guys can help make suggestions, and it will just make this that much better.

It will be free to find love (like the 60’s but with less acid), and it will only be for people that aren’t weirdos (this means “weirdo” in a sheep’s-butt-raping kind of way… people with quirks can totally join because those quirks just make you that much more endearing).

Step One: Friend Me on Facebook

I was once stalked by a group of Alpha Males that wanted to kill me because I have a job that could potentially affect the lives of other Alpha Males, so it’s sort of hard to find me on Facebook now because I can’t figure out how to unlock what I’ve locked down.

Click right here and ask me to be your friend: Facebook.com/Meredith.Soleau

Step Two: Let Me Know You’re Single

I’m going to form a group of you guys that are single and keep a spreadsheet of where you live and if you’d be interested in a long distance relationship.

Tell me that you want to be in Meredith’s Big Fat Gypsy Facebook Dating Club via PRIVATE FACEOOK MESSAGE! We don’t need all of your information on blast.

Step Three: Answer Some Questions

1. Are you interested in a long distance relationship?
2. Have you ever raped a sheep?
3. Would you date a single parent?
4. Ladies: How many cats do you have?
5. Men: How big is your bank account, no… How big are your feet?

Step Four: I Make a Spreadsheet & Connect You with Potentials on Facebook

This means if I suggest you “friend” someone, you need to do it or this will never work. And then the two of you need to socialize.  I live in Toledo, Ohio, so this makes it difficult for me to come to St. Louis and get you guys drunk to make it work.

Step Five: Say “Yes” to Everyone Asking You on a Date

If nothing else, going out on dates is good practice.  Even if you think you won’t like someone, go anyway.  It’s a free meal if you’re a lady, and it’s booty potential if you’re a man.

You have to put yourself out there.  Don’t be socially awkward.  Just get drunk and be huggy and flirty.  It will all work out.

Step Six: When You Get Married, I Get an Invite

And I am currently obsessed with My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding, so I expect huge dresses and lots of shimmer when I get there.  Really, it’s the least you can do since I am about to find you the love of your life.

DISCLAIMER: I am not responsible for your loves lives or anything that happens on your dates. I am simply your Facebook friend trying to make some love connections.

DOUBLE DISCLAIMER: Now that it’s all in writing, I actually feel like this thing could work, so I may charge people real money for Meredith’s Big Fat Gypsy Facebook Dating Service once it takes off, and change my mind about the free love aspect.  You’d better get in now while the crudely written business plan lacks a pricing structure.

So what do you guys think?  Will this work? Are you in single people?  In-a-relationship people, do you have any single friends you want to refer to the group?

© Meredith for Life's Crazy Joke, 2012. | Permalink | 29 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Marriage, Relationships, Stupid Hobbies

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I don’t think I ever faked a sports injury during the first 5 minutes of practice.  I waited to pretend I was hurt until at least half way through practice.

It seemed more believable  if I pretended to hit my knee on a hurdle once I was more sweaty. And then I’d fall to the ground in the most dramatic fashion, and sit with ice on my fake knee injury until my dad arrived to take me home.

So you can imagine my horror when Lars began limping during warm-ups at the first pee-wee football practice of his life.

I was mortified as he hobbled over to take a drink from the water bottle I’d brought him.

Lars, what the hell are you doing out there?

What, Mom? I’m just getting a drink.

Why are you limping? 

Some kid stepped on my ankle with his cleats.

No! No one stepped on you! I’ve been watching. Now get out there! You’re making me look bad in front of the other parents! And the other boys are going to make fun of you!

Mom, I’m serious. I’m hurt.

No, you’re not hurt. You’re faking it. Suck it up, or we’re going home.

He began to walk away without his fake limp.

Lars! Come back here! I need to tie your shoe!

Okay, so maybe tying his shoe wouldn’t make him look much tougher in front of his friends or the other parents. However, he still allowed me to do it because the kid is nine-years-old,  AND HE STILL CANNOT TIE HIS OWN SHOES.

Yes, you read that correctly.  My nine-year-old cannot tie his own shoes properly. He twists his shoestrings into knots. I’ve been trying to teach him the loop, swoop, and pull, but he’s just not catching it. Each day before school we have the same conversation.

Lars, you really need to tie your shoes the right way. Tying your shoestrings in knots is not the right way. You’re making me look bad in front of the other parents. And the other kids are going to make fun of you.

It’s your fault, Mom. You made me wear Velcro shoes when the rest of the kids were learning to tie.

I have to get to work, Lars. Just give me your foot.

Anyway, back to pee-wee football practice.

Lars was back out on the field, and trying his hardest now.  But even at his best, I could tell it wasn’t going to be good enough.

I decided to go home and make Shaun come back to the practice so he would understand that football wasn’t going to be his “thing”.

Shaun, you need to get up to the practice field.

No.

SHAUN! He is making an ass out of us! He needs help at home, and you’re going to help him!  These other kids look like their dads have been making them bear crawl for years!

No. It’s just conditioning today. He’ll be fine. We throw the ball around. My mom and dad never sat around and watched my football practices. You drop him off, and I’ll pick him up at 7:30.

SHAUN! All the other parents stayed up there. I ran home to make you go up there because this is a sporting emergency! Our kid sucks at this!

I’ll go get him at 7:30.

YOU’RE THE WORST PARENT EVER!

And with that, I stormed out of the house and went back to Lars’ practice.

I sat and watched like the rest of the moms.  I could tell he was trying really, really hard.  But he still wasn’t very good at things like running and jumping jacks.

After practice, I asked him if he really wanted to play football.

I HAD SO MUCH FUN, MOM! And Coach said I have the best three-point-stance out there!

So… I guess we’re playing pee-wee football. Which is fine because he’s having fun.  My dad will be happy since I come from a long line of football players.  But I’m 99.9% certain that Lars won’t become one of them.

I’ll bet Mark Zuckerberg faked an ankle injury or two in his life, so I’m not really too worried since the kid is so smart.

But it does leave me with some questions. Why do parents wait at practices now? Shaun was right about that, my parents just dropped me off as well. Is this because we’ve all become so judgy as parents and we want to out-parent all the other parents?  And if your child sucks at sports, do you still encourage them to play, even if you know it will eventually end in heart-ache?

© Meredith for Life's Crazy Joke, 2012. | Permalink | 25 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Parenting, Shaun, Working Mother

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We all have our quirks, right?

I don’t like things to touch the front of my neck.

You’ll never ever catch me in a turtleneck, choker necklace, or a t-shirt that isn’t a V-neck. Things touching the front of my neck make me feel like I’m choking.

I’ve broken my nose four times.

It hangs to the right of my face.  I rub it constantly because it itches, and I believe the rubbing causes it to become more even more crooked. I always think it’s bleeding or has snot coming out of it, even though it doesn’t.

I Photoshop it to the middle of my face for all of my headshots.  Here is a snapshot of me without Photoshopping. Notice how the arrow is straight, and my nose veers off to the side.

I’ve never had a surgery before, so thought of fixing it terrifies me.

I take that back, I had two molars pulled out of the back of my mouth, and they had to put me under when I was 16 years-old. I told the nurse to “fuck off” as I came out of anesthesia, and my dad laughed. He’d never heard me swear before that day.

I never grew any wisdom teeth. Oh, and I always wanted braces, and was sad that I never needed them, so I would put paperclips in mouth and pretend. That’s weird, too.

I never use the same towel or glass twice.

I wish I could reuse things, but the thought of using the same towel to dry off with two days in a row makes me gag.  What if there was the tiniest speck of dirt on the reused towel and now I redirty myself? What if mold grew on the towel overnight? When I get out of the shower, I like to be 100% spotless.

I cannot drink from the same glass/cup twice.  I will get a new glass each time I want a refill because I think particles of dust float around in the air and land in my glass. I believe I can taste the dust particles.

The only time I don’t care about reusing a glass is when I’m drinking alcohol.  I figure alcohol kills particles of dust.

I think roadside memorials are rude.

This seems harsh, but I fear that someone will die in my yard and cause a roadside memorial.

I feel bad for homeowners who have to mow around a crusty old teddy for three years because they don’t want to be the jerk that threw it away.  Now they’re stuck with a cross with names on it as a constant reminder of that day that someone died in their front yard.

I want to go on the record. When I die, please just make my memorial at the cemetery. But don’t bury me. Bugs freak me out.  I want to be cremated and put in a mausoleum.

When I was little, I didn’t think my dad could read very well.

He would always yell at us, I’M TRYING TO READ THE NEWSPAPER!

He would read us children’s books, but beyond that, I figured reading was a struggle since newspapers seemed so difficult for him.

Turns out, he can read just fine, he just wanted us to shut up.

Okay, tell me, what’s weird about you?

© Meredith for Life's Crazy Joke, 2012. | Permalink | 69 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Going to Hell, Parents

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Ever since they were on Dancing with the Stars the other night, freaking Train has been taking over all aspects of my life.

There are ballroom dancers sashaying all over my cranium.

It’s getting really annoying.

Meredith, pay attention to your boss. He is asking you about business-y things that involve spreadsheets and numbers.

Meredith, it’s rude to whistle during an interview.

Meredith, Shaun is getting confused. Stop telling him everything is not a drive by. 

Meredith, Lilah is two-years-old. She doesn’t know how to passe.

I’ll bet it has the same effect on you. We’ll all be in straight jackets by next week.

YOU. ARE. WELCOME. INTERNET.

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Today marks our very first book club meeting. Welcome.

I’ve made you all cocktails, but I had to drink them so I could talk so openly about the S&M book, Fifty Shades of Grey. So I’ll just give you the recipe.

Chocolate Covered Pretzel Shots

• 1/2 shot whipped cream vodka
• 1/2 shot Frangelico
• Shake hard over ice and strain into a shot glass
• Lick salt off of your hand like you would for a tequila shot

Speaking of licking salty things, we sure picked a winner for the first book!

I know I am not cussing in 2012, but I may need to say some bad words to quote the book.  And there’s no way around it, we have to talk about sex a lot today.  So don’t leave this page up if you have to go grab another coffee. The people you work with will think you’re a dirty pervert.

Here we go!

For being so poorly written, the book was completely titillating. (See what I just did there?)

Okay, let’s address the bad writing first.  

I’m not a professional writer. Well, sometimes people pay me to write things, but I am certainly not a published author, and I write like I talk. So I hate to judge… BUT OMG HOW MANY TIMES DO WE SEE THE SAME WORDS OVER AND OVER?!

Here’s my list of most annoying words:

• BEGUILED (Who even uses that word?)
• HITCHED (How many times does his/her breath have to hitch?)
• INNER GODDESS (Make. It. Stop.)
• JUST FUCKED HAIR (No.)
• MY SUBCONSCIOUS (How many people live inside of Ana, and why are they doing back flips?).
• MY SEX (It’s called a vagina.)
• STARING THROUGH MY EYELASHES (I have very long eyelashes. I’ve been trying to stare through them. It’s impossible.)
• MURMUR (Come on. No one murmurs 24/7.)

Who is her editor? Fire that person. Every writer needs a great editor, even if you are just publishing Twilight fan fiction.

My husband loves this book, and he hasn’t read a single word.

The week before I began reading Fifty Shades, Shaun and I had the biggest fight we’ve had in about a year.

But then? I start reading this book and all of the sudden, Shaun was becoming more attractive to me.  The fighting stopped, and the hair growing out of his ear was less annoying. Now I need rape him everyday (and sometimes in the middle of the night).

They are making the books into a movie. I’m going to make him watch it with in the privacy of our bedroom at least 46 times.

It’s basically couples therapy. A very dark and creepy couples therapy.

Christian

 Brittany has convinced me that Christian looks like Armie Hammer.  I agree.

I’m now having sex with Christian-Armie-Hammer in all my dreams (and sometimes when I’m awake).

There’s no denying it, Christian is hot and powerful. Hot and powerful is huge a turn on for me. I also like men with ambition. Christian Grey is ambitious.

However, I am conflicted about Christian. Half the time, I love him, and the rest of the time I want to spit in his face.

That would be the day that some man would threaten to spank me for misbehaving.  And when he hit her with the belt? I threw my iPhone across the room, screaming, WHAT A DICK! 

But, if Christian-Armie-Hammer wanted to do that thing to me with the Cat of Nine tails? I’d be down with that. And if he ever pinned me in an elevator to rub his giant erection on me? I’d allow it.

I am adding him to my laminated list (it’s like we’re already doing it anyway).

I’m ordering this from Amazon:

Shaun will be happy, I’m sure.

I have heard a lot of feedback about Ana. People think she’s whiny, and they do not like her character.

I. LOVE. ANA.

I love her because I am was this 22-year-old girl. Well, except for that whole went-through-college-a-virgin thing. That wasn’t me. The boys say I was a very good time in college.

But ask any ex-boyfriend or my husband, and they will tell you the same thing, I must know what you’re feeling at all times, I fall in love very quickly, and I am insanely jealous. I’m the neediest person you’ve ever met when it comes to romantic relationships.

Brittany said she pictures Lilly Collins playing Ana. I don’t. Ana is more innocent looking than that (as I was when I was younger – but looks can be deceiving).

Ana is Hermoine.

The Dirty Bits – MOM & DAD STOP READING HERE!

I hosted a backyard party this weekend, and we got to talking about the books. As it turns out, even the boys at the party knew about Fifty Shades of Grey. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that this isn’t a Harlequin romance novel.  This is pretty hard core stuff.

Once we made the boys perform a live reading, they seemed to understand. Have an unsuspecting male perform a live reading of this passage where Christian is introducing her to the silver vagina balls. You’ll laugh so hard, you’ll cry.

He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two shiny silver balls linked with a thick black thread… ”I am going to put these inside of you, and then I’m going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine… Then we’ll fuck… Good girl, open your mouth… They need lubrication. Suck… Now turn around, bend down, and grab your ankles…” 

Okay, that’s enough. I’m finding it hard to type the rest of that passage without throwing up. You know how I feel about foreign objects (like tampons, and especially silver balls) in my vagina. Puke.

I’ve already started Fifty Shades Darker. I sort of like feeling horny all the time, and I needed to know if she takes that sexy jerk back.  SHOUTY CAPS!!!

Did you like the book? Do you like Ana? Do you hate Christian? Or do you understand him? Do you have more sex now as a result of reading this?

© Meredith for Life's Crazy Joke, 2012. | Permalink | 71 comments | Add to del.icio.us
Post tags: Marriage, Relationships, Stupid Hobbies

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The front door swung violently open at 11:36pm.

WE BEAT CULLIGAN WATER!

Why was he screaming this as he walked through the door? Why was he home so late tonight?

WE BEAT CULLIGAN WATER!

I began whisper yelling down the stairs.

SHHHHHHHHHHH! Shaun! The kids are sleeping! Hush up!

THEY NEED TO KNOW! THEIR FATHER IS AN ATHLETIC CHAMPION!

Shaun! SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I WILL NOT SHHHHHHHHHHHH! WE BEAT CULLIGAN WATER!

Shaun was wastey-faced. His bowling team had beat Culligan Water’s bowling team in the old-man-bowling-league semi-finals.

I went downstairs so he’d stop yelling about his athletic prowess.

Do I look sexier?

What?

You know, do I look hotter now that I’m a bowling semi-finalist?

No.

He seemed shocked that bowlers don’t turn me on.

See these fingers?

*he holds 4 fingers in the air*

These fingers are not only masters in our bedroom, they are masters at the bowling alley.

Really, Shaun?  Are you making bowling into a sexual thing? And I thought you only needed three fingers to bowl?

YES! SEXY!

SHHHHHHHHHHHH! Not sexy, Shaun.

You wouldn’t say that if you were there. I had 4 strikes. Everyone was cheering for me. Watch how sexy this is…

He pulled his arm back and threw a pretend bowling ball through our kitchen. He flexed his muscles at me. To which I replied sarcastically,

Oh, yeah, I can see it now…

I know, right? And when we win the finals next week, you’ll think I’m sexier than ever.

Wait. I thought THIS was the last week of the stupid never-ending bowling league.

I KNOW! BUT WE WON!

So what happens next week if you win again? More bowling?

NO! WE GET A 3 FOOT TROPHY AND MONEY!

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Shaun. Too loud.

He walked over to me, gave me the sloppiest kiss ever, and said,

I’m gonna have sex with you on that trophy like it’s the Stanley Cup.

Hahahahaha! You and your hand can have sex with the Stanley Cup bowling trophy. I’m out.

NO! YOU HAVE TO BE INTO THIS FOR ME! YOU. ME. THE TROPHY!

And with that, he went into the bathroom and puked (from what seemed like his toes). As I checked to make sure he wasn’t drowning in his own vomit, he lifted his head off the toilet seat to say,

Don’t write about this, Meredith.  I won’t try to have sex with you on my giant trophy. 

I happen to like your giant trophy. Go to bed, Shaun.

Marriage.

The best blog fodder ever.

© Meredith for Life's Crazy Joke, 2012. | Permalink | 24 comments | Add to del.icio.us
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