Is Your Husband or Boyfriend Playing Grand Theft Auto 5? Here’s How to Calculate Your “Lost Husband Time” Compensation.

Gaming widows. I’m one of them. This is the time that Calm-ass Husband will abandon the marriage to play hours on-end of a game. He will fill a Costco basket full of so much junk food, you’d think he was preparing for the apocalypse. Then he will play. And play. And play. Only stopping to eat, use the bathroom, and occasionally, sleep. I’m just thankful he’s not peeing into a Dr. Pepper bottle to save time.

TGPMA, or, Temporary Game-Playing Marriage Abandonment, is a serious problem. Especially surrounding the release of a new game. Such as Grand Theft Auto V.

Grand Theft Auto V will turn adult men with well-paying jobs into adolescent boys who depend on their parents. If your husband or boyfriend is anything like mine, he will take a week off of work with the sole intention of spending every extended waking hour playing this game.

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By the way, if you are married, or dating, an adult man who does this and does not have a well-paying job, it’s time to re-evaluate your life choices. There has to be some sort of pull that levels out the fact that he spends an inordinate amount of time playing this game. Here is a quick check you can do.

Note: If he’s your husband, he must possess all of Column A and can only possess 1 of Column B. If he’s your boyfriend, the only trait from Column B he can possess is the first. If he possesses any others, run. Run away and never look back.

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Important note: You don’t want a guy who ACTS like Don Draper. Or Jesse Pinkman, for that matter. Altough, arguably, Jesse does treat women better than Don Draper. If you can find a guy who looks and dresses like Don Draper, but treats you the way Jesse Pinkman would, then you’re golden. Like a shower (that was for CAH, who I know would have finished it that way in his head. That’s love, bitch). Then again, Jesse does have a tendency to get loaded on meth and have marathon gaming sessions. Hmmm….this might warrant a later post with a side-by-side comparison.

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Of course, if you’re on Pinterest at all, then you’ve inevitably seen this little gem floating around:


The only exception to these rules is if you are actually dating Don Draper, AKA Jon Hamm. If you are dating Jon Hamm, he can live in his parents house, playing video games 24/7, and dress like Jesse Pinkman from Breaking Bad circa season 1, and you should still date him. Have you seen his bulge?

The number of times I've added an image to my computer labeled "Jon Hamm's bulge" is nothing short of astounding.

The number of times I’ve added an image to my computer labeled “Jon Hamm’s bulge” is nothing short of astounding.

Now that we have that out of the way, you are either ready to set your terms, or you’re packing your bags for greener pastures.

When it comes to setting terms for your time as a Grand Theft Auto V widow, be clear on your objective. Do you want compensation for husband-time lost? Do you want compensation for lost help around the house? Having a clear objective in mind helps you to better prepare for setting your terms.

Once you have your objective in mind, you need to figure out exactly what it is that you want in terms of compensation. Luckily, I have come up with an equation to help you do just that:

1. Take your husband’s salary and convert it to his hourly wage.
2. Take the average number of hours you spend per day in quality time with your husband (be honest, no fair inflating this number).
3. Multiply the average number of hours you spend per day in quality time with your husband, by his hourly wage. You now have your Daily Compensation Dollars (DCD).
4. Now multiply your daily compensation dollars, by the number of days you anticipate your husband will be playing Grand Theft Auto V. You now have your Grand Theft Auto V Compensation Budget (GTACB).


Let’s say your husband’s salary converts to $40/hour. Let’s say that you spend an average of 4 hours of quality time together, per day. 4 x $40 = $160.

$160 is your DCD. Now let’s say your husband wants to play for 5 consecutive days. Your GTACB is $800.

The beauty of this equation is that, the more days your husband plays the game, the more you win. If he wants to pay you less of a GTACB, it’s entirely in his control. He just needs to play less. This is really a win-win solution for all involved.

By the way, TGPMA does not allow for you to get a temporary side-husband. I asked and it almost called off our negotiations, and nearly threatened my stakes. So learn from my mistake – don’t ask for a temporary man-mistress.


The Review of My Wedding Photographer I Wasn’t Allowed to Put on Yelp

Calm-ass Husband keeps me honest. Well, he keeps me socially polite, anyways. Most of the time I’m annoyed on the rare occasions that he makes me be nice, but I’m always grateful in retrospect.

Recently two events prompted me to finally write a review I’ve been dreading: my horrible wedding photographer.

I’ve been thinking about getting some work done to my nose, and finally decided to look into doing it next year. I know, my friends will be like, “What?? Your nose is fine!” Ok, yeah, let’s get this over with now, and then never go through this again:

Yes, my nose is fine. It’s not horrible. It doesn’t have a huge bump or a hook. My septum isn’t deviated. I don’t look like I’m Greek. Blah, Blah, Blah.

Are we done?

My nose is passable. But in my eyes, it’s not what I’d call a Prêt-à-Porter nose. I just need to take it to the nose tailor, if you will, and have it nipped in a pinch to better fit me, k?

Anyways, I was scouring reviews of local nose tailors, when that ever-present, nagging feeling that I’ve had for the past two years hit me: “Review your wedding photographer.” I stuffed it back down. I just wasn’t ready.

Then I logged on to Facebook and saw that my friend Melissa had posted pictures of her wedding; the sting of how long I waited for my wedding photos hit me again, for the umpteenth time (p.s. M – you looked stunning and the boobs were bangin’ in that dress!).

I finally decided to write a review. An honest review. And Calm-ass Husband took one look at that review and said, “Well…you’re not wrong…but….I think it’s better to post this on your blog and not Yelp.”


Fine, I’ll give him the fact that I accused my wedding photographer of having a sloppy vagina, and those are serious charges to level. But it is true! So we made a deal, I will write a nicer review of her on Yelp, but I get to post the full review on here. So here it is, my sloppy vagina-d wedding photographer:

(Names have been changed to…sigh, because CAH made me)

“I’ve waited 2 years to write this review. Partly because I wanted to make sure that my frustration subsided enough to be fair, and partly because I like Sally as a person, and so was procrastinating.

I engaged Sally and Studio 6:66 Photography about a year and a few months before my wedding. I wanted both engagement and wedding photos. My husband, then fiance, lived in San Luis Obispo (attending grad school), and I was in Sacramento. That’s about a 5 hour drive. We scheduled the engagement photos about 10 months to my wedding date. I took a few days off work and went to SLO. The morning of our shoot, Sally’s husband texted me to say that Sally was having a personal health crisis. I won’t go into detail because it’s personal, but let’s just say that she was having a health issue in her lady tubes. Fair enough, shit happens. I recently had to wean off my beloved Cottonelle wet wipes because I learned that they don’t biodegrade, which means I am now having to SACRIFICE money to install a bidet in one of my bathrooms in order to both be kind to the environment, AND ensure that my Down South Lady Mouth is shiny and sparkly for when it gets a spontaneous visitor (AKA, my husband after a good golf game). So I totally get lady-area issues. We rescheduled and worked it out.

Flash-forward to a week before my wedding: I get an email from Sally with details of scheduling and last minute items for my wedding and, at the end of the email, as if an afterthought, she casually mentions that she is not only pregnant, but a week overdue. Um, what? You wait until a week before my wedding to tell me that you’re not only pregnant, but overdue? Let’s set aside the fact that my deadbeat Maid-of-Honor was a colossal loser when it came to so much as lifting a finger to assist (thanks to her, I had to cancel my own bridal shower), I was also working what should be an illegal amount of hours at a spirit-crushing, employee-soul-mudering factory, and, um, it was a week before my wedding.

I need to take a Evie Garland, Out of this World, break, touch my pointer fingers together, and freeze time so I can stop being polite, and channel the stressed out, anxious bride of two years ago:

Are you FUCKING kidding me? Are you out of your GODDAMN mind? Are you seriously such a fucking clueless jackass that you found it perfectly acceptable to mention to a bride, a week before her wedding, that you are pregnant and overdue? Do you think that, just because I share the same genitals as you, I’m going to nod understandingly, reveling in the miracle of life that you’re about to bring forward, rather than thinking about the fact that there is a high liklihood that amniotic fluid is going to free flow down the fucking aisle of the mission that insisted on metaphorically bending me over and ass-raping me financially for the privelege of getting married there when I’m not Catholic? Well screw you, you fucking naieve asshole. I could care less that you and your hipster husband created a little friction with your nether regions one night when you got drunk on Pabst Blue Ribbon while listening to deep cuts of Belle and Sebastian, reminiscing about your hipster college days. And what really pisses me off? What REALLY pisses me off, is that this is the second time your vagina issues have gotten in the way of your managing my engagement and wedding photography. What if I had emailed you after the wedding and said, “Hey, so thanks for photographing my wedding, but while I was sleeping, my vagina went rogue, cleaned out my bank account, and hopped the border to Mexico. So unfortunately, I can’t pay you.” You would be like, “God damn, woman, tell your vagina to get its shit together!”, right?

*And clapping my palms together, restarting time.*

In a panic, I forward my photographer’s email to my wedding planners, who thankfully managed the issue for me by replying to my photographer that this is not acceptable and she has to commit another professional photographer to us for my wedding day. Sidenote: she went into labor on our actual wedding day.

The photographers she got for us made it clear that they were just taking pictures and that Studio 6:66 was editing and sending us final pics. My wedding was in June – I did not get my photos until October. Not even the sneak peak on Facebook that I see my other friends tagged in. The swing photographer finally took pity on us and sent us a few photos so that we had something to show for our day while we were still in the spirit of our wedding.

Bottom line: Sally does not seem to know how to schedule around her vagina. In fact, in regards to organization, her vagina seems quite sloppy. So, as long as she’s not trying to spit out another kid, go for it. But I strongly recommend that you really make sure she’s not in the process of reproducing/gestating when she’s set to do your wedding.”