Dealing With Your First Marital Lie: No Seriously, How Do I Deal With it?

I’m new to this whole marriage thing. In fact, I did my best to avoid marriage for a long time. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t some kind of playgirl with someone new in my bed each night. I was always a serial monogamist, but I was fantastically good at getting into relationships that I knew would someday crash and burn so that I could avoid the dreaded “M” word. I won’t get into the myriad of reasons why I was allergic to holy matrimony, but I was feeling pretty proud of myself for avoiding it.

Then I met CAH, fell madly in love and decided that marriage wasn’t such a terrible idea. BUT JUST THIS ONCE. I mean it – if CAH and I don’t work out, I am going to just be one of those ladies who travels the world and takes lovers. But not so much of an Eat, Pray, Love deal. More of a Drink, Pill Pop, Have Lots of One Night Stands, sort of a thing. (Elizabeth Gilbert, I’m ready to get started on the next book in your series at any time)

but seriously - how hot is my husband?

but seriously – how hot is my husband?

So CAH and I are both new at marriage because, as I said, I was marriage-adverse, and CAH was young. I plucked him off the vine while he was still a little green. I always say it is because I didn’t know he was so young, but in reality, I was hoping to steal his youth essence and live forever….MWWWAHAHAHA

The couple during happier times, last month

The couple during happier times, last month

So when I have major conflict in a relationship, I have two inclinations:

1) Jump out the nearest window and run for it
2) Clam up and not say a word until after I down a bottle of wine and either say everything that pops into my head, or just go to sleep at 8pm and pretend it never happened

Turns out you can’t do that in marriage – it doesn’t work. First of all, the whole “running for it” thing doesn’t make a difference. You’re still married and it is legally binding and everything.

Secondly, drinking a bottle of wine every time there is conflict gets expensive. Also, I’m told, it technically makes you an alcoholic. But drink a bottle of wine every time you are happy, and that is just called a “celebration.” Whatever.

We're always happier with the fishnet filter

We’re always happier with the fishnet filter

I’m not into airing personal grievances publicly, so just like fake names are used to protect the innocent, a fake crime is being used to protect CAH. Let’s just say he broke my Ming Dynasty vase and, instead of telling me about it, he took out a loan for $1.3 million to replace it. But I found out about it anyways, because a) I am a woman and you can’t hide stuff from us for long and, b) he finally just told me because he felt guilty.

A Ming Dynasty vase - shattered.

A Ming Dynasty vase – shattered.

So I got totally mad because, an omission is still a lie, right?? Like, I can’t kiss another man and then not tell CAH, because it is still lying (although he has a total double standard, because were I to kiss another woman, all he’d want is to hear everything about it – make up your mind!). CAH says that example is comparing apples and oranges. But come on, that was a $1.3 million Ming Dynasty vase.

I tell verrrry few people about any conflicts that arise in my marriage. Mostly because I am a very private person, and also because I get that no one loves CAH like I do, so I don’t want to bitch about him in a fit of annoyance, and then get over it, but have that other person be left thinking, “Wow….she married a total asshole, what is she still doing with him?”, and then hold it against him. I mean, honestly, most of my friends and family love CAH way more than they love me anyways, and they should. He’s a solid guy with a lot of integrity, and I just drink and jump out of windows when the going gets tough.

Ok, he didn't Chris Brown-batter me, so that's good.

Ok, he didn’t Chris Brown-batter me, so that’s good.

But given his usual integrity, you can imagine my shock and dismay to find out that he just replaced my Ming Dynasty vase behind my back rather than just telling me what was going on. I wasn’t so much mad at the fact that he did it, as I was the fact that he did something behind my back, which seems so dishonest. And coming from him, that was so out of character. So I texted my Sassy-ass Sister to see what she thought about it, because she is surprisingly objective about these things:

WAW: Calm-ass Husband LIED to me about something he did behind my back with another woman!!!
SAS: Shut your mouth!!! Did he go to Hooters?**
WAW: Well, by “other woman” I mean a bank loan officer, and by “thing he did behind my back” I mean he took out a loan for $1.3 million to replace my Ming Dynasty vase that he broke.
SAS: Oh….well then why are you mad?
WAW: How could he do that and not tell me? An omission is still a lie.
SAS: I wouldn’t be mad at him about that. I can understand him wanting the comfort in knowing that you have another Ming Dynasty vase. He should have told you, but I wouldn’t hold it against him. Did he just forget to tell you?
WAW: No, he said he didn’t want to upset me.
SAS: Well, I’m sure that, being a guy, it hurt his pride and maybe embarrassed him that he could be so clumsy as to break your Ming Dynasty vase.

I’ve seen this girl go Seal Team 6 on guys that she suspected have wronged her, I honestly don’t know where she gets such clarity when dealing with the relationships of others.

My sister, getting ready to confront the bastard who wronged her.

My sister, getting ready to confront the bastard who wronged her.

** CAH’s love of Hooters is widely known. And it’s not for the boobs, it is sincerely for the wings. There have been times when even I was outright ogling a busty Hooters server, and CAH was just face down, elbows deep in a plate of all-you-can-eat wings.

OK, ok, fine. He had the best of intentions. Maybe I’m really just mad at myself for having such a ridiculously expensive Ming Dynasty vase in the first place, causing CAH to feel like he had to go to such great lengths to quietly take out a $1.3 million loan to replace it. It’s been a year-and-a-half of marriage, and I’m sure all you folks out there who have been married way longer are probably chuckling to yourself and thinking, “Lady, this is nothing. Seriously. Nothing. And it’s part of marriage, so deal with it.” Whatever – who asked you, wise married-for-ten-years lady?

Ok fine – I will not jump out the nearest window. But CAH, I am drinking some of your 18-year-old whiskey. And not even straight – I diluted it with lemonade. So deal with that.

P.S. I still love you 35

mmmm so good with lemonade

mmmm so good with lemonade


Five Things I Learned While Reading Victorian Porn (Complete with Semi-Pornographic Victorian Pictures)

Why am I looking at Victorian porn, you ask? Perfectly reasonable question.

victorian porn

Well, aside from my curiosity over the assertion of others that women used to have pubic hair, I’ve been quietly writing a book. The book is a historical fiction, and even though it is fiction, it is still historical. Therefore, the book should probably be somewhat accurate so that when it gets published and becomes wildly successful, the history snobs can’t sit there and be like, “Well Worthington (historical snob name), she would have a perfectly fine book on her hands were it not for the fact that she described the house’s study as having a copy of Emile Gallé’s Écrits Pour l’art 1884-89, which is preposterous since her story takes place in 1907, and we know that Galle’s book was not published until 1908.” And then Worthington would be like, “Mmmmm, quite right Alexander. Perhaps in her next book she will claim the lady of the house was using a tea bag in 1902.”

Fucking Worthington and Alexander. Judgemental bastards.

Because there are seedy elements in this book, I am doing major research on the seedy life of the Victorian era. Those were some kinky mo fos.



I won’t even touch the rampant incest that is lacing Victorian porn, but I will say that incest was seriously no big deal. I guess the sex-pool was scant back then? I don’t know – that is a question for Worthington and Alexander – but there were a lot of siblings getting busy.


victorian porn

But brother-lovin’ aside, here are five things I learned while reading a lot of Victorian porn:

1. They were really into hair. Like, not just in the normal spots it grows, but a girl with hairy nipples, or hair on her back, was considered a serious sex pot. The hairier, the merrier.

2. Casual sex often meant addressing the person formally, like, “Oh Mrs. Rose, do let me kiss your thighs.” I find it charming – when did booty calls become so informal?

3. Instead of turning out the lights, they shut off the gas. Of course, naughty Victorian girls left the gas on.

4. They often referred to the man’s penis as “the little gentleman.” How cute is that? It makes me picture a dignified penis, wearing a top hat and a monocle. I’m kind of thinking of renaming CAH’s to “the little gentleman.” I’m not sure if he will be up for that. He is definitely not up for the tiny top hat and monocle. I already asked.

5. The vagina is referred to as “Lady Jane.” Some may know this euphemism from the book Lady Chatterly’s Lover, but turns out that D.H. Lawrence was not the originator of this formal style of vaginal address. Of course, I do not know if “Lady Jane” was used across all classes. Lower class women’s vaginas were probably called, “Mrs. Jane,” like how servants were addressed. Or if it were an unmarried vagina, “Miss Jane.” Of course, it would have been “Ms. Jane” if it was a progressive vagina.

“But referring to a vagina as ‘Ms.’ does not denote a feminist vagina. The term Ms. was actually first proposed in 1901 to save people embarassment from improperly addressing a woman whose marital status was unknown.”

Shut up, Worthington.

victorian porn

Because, Why Not? How to Cook a Placenta and the Best Wine Pairings with Placenta (Warning: Graphic Pictures)

CAH recently noted that I am a quiet person. Which is weird because I have soooooo much stuff running through my head. His comment actually kind of surprised me. So I told him I’d try getting more of the stuff that is floating around in my head out of my actual head-hole. He thanked me.

Silly CAH.

So last night I say to him:

ME: What do you think human flesh tastes like?
CAH: Are you serious?
ME: Hey! You’re the one who wants me to start saying what I’m thinking!

I had him there.

I decided to google “What does human flesh taste like” and it brought up videos for cooking placenta. Human placenta. PEOPLE ARE PREPARING AND EATING HUMAN PLACENTA!

Just pretend it's animal liver

Just pretend it’s animal liver

Whenever I am confronted with something that shocks me, especially if it is gross/gory/violent, my thought process generally goes like this: “OH MY GOD THAT IS HORRIFYING!…..I should look into this more.”

When I got over the initial shock and thought about, it made sense. I mean, a placenta grew an entire human. There has got to be good shit in there, right? Apparently it is great for postpartum depression. January Jones, from Mad Men, apparently had hers made into pills and ate it.

got placenta?

got placenta?

I know that I’m likely on board with it because the traditional doctors are staunchly against it – so I am assuming that there is something to it.

Either way who cares – it’s your damn placenta. Do with it as you please.

Eating placenta

But people are cooking these placentas like they are a delicacy! I guess I get it – if you’re going to eat it anyways, may as well make it good. Apparently it is similar to liver. So I am throwing my own recipe into the ring. I have adapted this recipe from a vintage edition of Better Homes & Gardens cookbook.

Note: this recipe is adapted – they did not use placenta in the actual cookbook

Better Homes & Garden did not have placenta in mind when they wrote that.

Better Homes & Garden did not have placenta in mind when they wrote that.

Placenta Loaf

1 Placenta (be sure you remove the membrane and umbilical cord – that thing is a little tough)
1 medium onion, chopped
1 cup dry bread crumbs
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon celery salt
2 beaten eggs
1/2 cup vegetable stock
pepper to taste

Cover placenta with hot water and let it simmer for 5 minutes. Drain and put the placenta and onions in a food processor and process. Add remaining ingredients and mix well. Put into a 10×5 loaf pan and form well.

Bake at 350 for 45 minutes

I have NOT tested this recipe, because I did not have a spare placenta. If you try it, let me know how it goes.

As for wine pairings, I’d say go with the traditional wine pairings for organ meats: Barolo, Rhone or Pinot Noir.

Whatever you do, don’t do Chianti. C’mon – that’s too obvious.

Dollar Tree Haul: The Dollar Tree Makes Me Look Like I’m Doing Surprisingly Well

I had to go buy poop bags for the dogs today because CAH and I normally reuse plastic grocery bags, but since I’ve been ordering a lot of our groceries from local farms, we ran out. We then delayed doing anything about it for awhile, which left us resorting to using gallon-sized Ziploc bags we found around the house. It was actually pretty fancy, and I’m sure our garbage man is thinking, “Wow, they must be doing pretty well. Ziploc for the dog crap.”

We’ve got him fooled.

Since I also needed cat food and the pet food store is near the Dollar Tree, I decided to see if the Dollar Tree had any doggy poop bags because a) it would be awesome if I only had to pay $1 for a box of poop bags, and, b) I freaking love the Dollar Tree.

Dollar Tree did not disappoint.

First of all, it is like a poop-bag free-for-all. They didn’t just have boxes of poop bags, they had the fancy bag dispensers that attach to the leash, AND the refill bags.

Poop bags as far as the eye can see

Poop bags as far as the eye can see

Here is one thing that puzzled me, though:

This is AMERICA - land of excess! Of course we're going for the 4-count!

This is AMERICA – land of excess! Of course we’re going for the 4-count!

WHO is buying the 2-count pack when you can buy a 4-count pack for the same price? WHO??

So I majorly stocked up on poop bags. Like, my dogs can shit all day, every day, and I won’t even care. I am ready to just stuff them full of pumpkin and let them shit their brains out, because I am drunk with poop bags. Violet even gets pink poop bags – extra fancy.

Poop bag stockpile

Poop bag stockpile

I also majorly scored on toothpaste. I’m not talking, like, mini tubes of Crest, or big tubes of Kolgate. I’m talking fancy Aquafresh Extreme Clean – in a metal pump tube and everything. It even has micro-active foaming action. I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds super fancy. I bought FIVE bottles! Like, we are seriously stocked on toothpaste. I feel like such a grown-up.

Toothpaste time at the Rockefeller house

Toothpaste time at the Rockefeller house

I can see guests coming over and marveling at our stockpile of toothpaste:

Guest A: Did you see how much toothpaste they have? Like, multiple bottles. Metal bottles. It even has micro-active foaming action.
Guest B: Whoa, are you serious? I didn’t know they were doing that well.
Guest A: Uh yeah, didn’t you notice them using Ziploc bags to pick up their dog shit?

But the toothpaste wasn’t even my Dollar Tree triumph. My triumph came when I was walking by the electronics section and saw the stack of Blu-Ray Discs. Right there, on top, was “Straight Talk” with DOLLY FREAKING PARTON!

A dollar for Dolly

A dollar for Dolly

At first I was a little insulted that Dolly would find herself in a Dollar Tree bin and got all Patrick Swayze, “No one puts Dolly in the dollar bin.” But then I realized that Dolly would want the people to enjoy her work, no matter what their economic standing. That’s why we love Dolly – her big heart.

This is easily my most gleeful Dollar Tree trip in a long time.

Shit, I forgot to buy cat food.

Life is Too Short for Cheap Pita Bread: the Splurge on Yourself Challenge

So my employment has been paired down, as I mentioned, and we are on a tighter budget than usual. As such, I am buying cheaper stuff.

Like for instance, pita bread. I bought this pita bread that SPECIFICALLY STATES it was made by a middle eastern baking company.

Phony! You're a phony!

Phony! You’re a phony!

They have been making pita bread in the middle east for a long time, I’m sure. So why does it split when I stick my hand in the slit?? (that’s what she said)

I'm the Georgia O'Keefe of Pita Bread

I’m the Georgia O’Keefe of Pita Bread

It got me thinking about my dream the other night, where me and the Calm-ass Husband were on a flight and the plane started to crash. Luckily I jarred awake right before we crashed into the San Francisco Bay and my brain was like, “Oh hello – you’re awake! Let’s think about everything that has happened in the history of the world EVER, starting with your life and working back to the big bang.” It wasn’t long before I started getting a stiff neck and became sure that I had contracted meningitis. I looked over at poor CAH, peacefully sleeping, blissfully unaware that his wife lay dying of meningitis right next to him. I selflessly began calculating the fair amount of mourning time that should pass before allowing him to find someone else. No need for him to mourn for years. I’m a good wife.

So back to the pita – it got me thinking: My dream of almost dying in a plane crash reminded me that I *could* just die in a plane crash tomorrow. Well, on today’s budget, it is more likely that I will die in a short car ride to the grocery store. But if it all ended tomorrow, is it fair that I spent my last days eating cheap pita bread? It’s not.

So with that, I give you the Splurge Challenge. If there is something you usually skimp on, like buying the generic brand or the cheaper brand, buy just one thing that is the name brand, or pricier version. Just this week. Just this one thing. You deserve it.

The Sweet-ass Chicken Wing Off: The Best Chicken Wing Recipe

Me and CAH had a wing-off with some friends recently. CAH’s friend who, like the Calm-ass Husband, is pretty calm himself (Calm-ass Friend), and one of my Sweet-ass Sister Wives (I have several).

CAH asserted that he made the better chicken wing. CAF asserted that HE made the better chicken wing. SASW and I asserted that we would love to sit on our asses and drink, while the men worked in the kitchen. Regardless of who won, it was a pretty sweet deal for SASW and me.

Men at Work

Men at Work

Both of the wing masters were kind enough to give me their special sauces (hee hee) on my vegetarian chicken. CAF is a fellow East Coaster, like myself, so I told him that I expected the wings to be up to snuff.

He did not disappoint.

CAH made his usual wings, which are pretty damn good.

Master Baster

Master Baster

CAF’s wings had tears running down CAH’s cheeks. These West Coasters and their virgin tongues.

The verdict:

CAF’s wings were seriously East Coast-worthy: 10 points
CAH’s wings have a sweetness that I love: 10 points
My Sweet-ass Sister Wife has a sweet ass: 15 points

SASW is the clear winner.

This is one of my and CAH’s favorite hot wing recipes. For my fellow rabbit food eaters, I warm up a Quorn Naked Chik’n Cutlet, slice it in strips, and toss it with the sauce.

Introducing My Site Redesign: A Punch to the Head Means “I Love You” in Sister Language

So I decided to change my site around a little. I get bored easily and needed something new.

I came across these pictures of my brother Jeremy and I when we were little, lovingly ironed on to a decorative quilt vignette made by my stepmom. They depict a Rockwell-like scene that unfolded years ago, as I was roller skating around looking for something to hit, apparently. Perfect for my website.

If you’re thinking, “OMG she’s beating that poor little child!!!”, I will caution you not to be fooled by his cherubic cheeks and angelic blonde curls. He was hell on two legs.

And we get along now! I swear! LOOK!


Plus, I asked him if it was ok if I use pictures depicting a scene from his childhood that probably necessitated therapy years later. He was cool with it.

But hey, now he is grown and serves his country in the military. And if our past makes up who we are today, then, in a way, I contributed to helping to defend our nation. You’re welcome, America.

Also, I’d like to point out the pre-punch curtsey. Because a lady always curtsies before she’s about to open up a can of whoop ass.