This blog is my safe place. Like a tree of trust. And in the tree of trust,I tell embarrassing stories about myself from years gone by (and years that are still very, very nearby), you laugh at them, and we all move on.
Usually I am the only contributor of stories. Until now.
After three years of reading my self deprecating blog, Hubs has officially decided to join in on the action. No, he didn't start his own blog. Instead, Hubs posted a FB status this weekend describing one of my, shall we say, less than stellar intellectual moments.
In other words, Hubs scooped me. And I can't have that. My own husband scooping me on my own stories? No can do.
One of the first rules of journalism is, "if someone is beating you to the punch, hire them."
(Okay, I don't actually know if that's a rule of journalism. My degree is in Interior Design. But it sounds legit.)
And so...without further ado, I would like to announce the exciting addition of a contributor to "The Antisdel Abstract."
Hubs. Welcome to my club.
(Don't get excited for him; this is a non-compensated position. No health, dental or 401k, either.)
After Hubs posted his Facebood story and scooped me, quite a few people were concerned that I was upset at Hubs for telling a story about his loving and dutiful wife. To which I say...
Have you read my blog?
I mean, c'mon. 90% of its content is a recount of my mental and physical misadventures. If I was truly worried about people discovering that I'm not MIT worthy...well, that ship has long since sailed.
Besides, reading my funny stories probably allows a few people to sit back and say, "Wow, at least I'm not THAT dumb."
(I'm like the Jessica Simpson of North East Kansas. Whether or not that's a good thing...eh, jury's still out.)
Furthermore, I dare say that every person on this planet has had a moment when they stop and say, "Whoa, my brain left the building on that one." I just happen to have the guts to talk about it freely with a bunch of strangers via the Internet.
So here is my darling Hubs' story from this weekend, retold with a hint of my dramatic flair, as you've all come to know and love. Enjoy!
Setting: Me in the kitchen, scrounging for something to eat while Hubs and I prepare to watch the play-off's.
Me: (opening fridge) *GASP* Oh no! Our light bulb is out in the fridge, Hubs!
Hubs: (from the living room) We'll get another one next time we're at the store.
Me: (thinking) But wait, won't our food go bad? Shouldn't we go to the store right now? I don't want all this fruit to get gross, we just bought it!
Hubs: You're kidding, right?
Me: (running into living room) No, I'm not kidding! The light bulb helps keep the food cold somehow, doesn't it?
Hubs: Please tell me you're not serious.
Me: (smiling and pointing at Hubs) Aaaah HA! I'm on to you, buddy. The light bulb DOES have something to do with the food, and YOU'RE just trying to make me second guess myself. Well it won't work!
Hubs: (shaking head) Babe, seriously. No.
Me: (throwing up hands, exasperated) Well, then what is the POINT of a friggin' light bulb?
Hubs: So you can see the food.
Me: (walking back over to refrigerator, opening and shutting the door) So, you're telling me the light bulb automatically goes off when you shut the refrigerator door? It isn't on inside there?
Me: (thinking) How does it know to shut off?
Hubs: Because there's a censor.
Me: STOP IT, HUBS. You are so full of it! Be straight with me, is that all the light bulb really does?
Hubs: (burying his head in his hands) Yes, baby. It's just so you can see the food.
Me: Whatever. You're just messing with me. Nice try, Hubs!
Obviously later, after having a nice long "let's think this through" moment, I came to the realization that Hubs was in fact not messing with me. A refrigerator actually does not require a light bulb to cool its contents in the way an EZ Bake oven uses a bulb for heating brownies.
(No seriously, who but me didn't know this? Anyone? Anyone?)
In other news, I've officially decided that I need my own reality TV show.