Hubster, Prozac, and Trixie ride again
Wednesday, Dec. 07, 2005 at 7:45 a.m.
So Hubster and I were having a conversation.
Valkyrie: �So everyday when I�m driving home from Curves, I pass the XYZ car lot, and there�s this cute little blue Ford Focus hatchback. And I mean cute!�
Hubster: �Ford Focus, huh?�
V: �Yeah. They�re not a bad little car, are they?�
H: �Not bad if you want a disposable car.�
V: �But it�s so CUTE! And it�s such a pretty blue. If I had a car that color, I�d call it Trixie.�
H: �What if you had a red car?�
V: �She would be called Buffy. Silver or gold cars would be Selena. Or Brucie. I think it would depend on the car. At any rate, it�s all better than what I call the truck, which is �The Old Whore�.�
*pause*
H: �So did you take your Prozac today?�
That�s really the Hubster�s answer to everything I say that happens to be off-the-wall. Which, according to him, is just about everything that spills out of my mouth. Just because he�s an engineer and everything has to move linearly and logically for him. I think logically, but it bounces around a lot instead of moving in a straight old boring like. Ah well. I think I�ll keep him anyway. Because he�s so CUTE!! too.
At any rate, here is my mantra for the day:
Because you do know they�re after you, right? Just because you�re not paranoid doesn�t mean they�re not out to kill you. Which is another statement that leads the Hubster to ask about my Prozac intake. SIGH
The Hubster went out last night to go Christmas shopping, ostensibly for me, and I was ironing when he came home. (Okay, look, yes I do iron some of his shirts, but I iron only the plackets with the buttons and the buttonholes because for some reason those go all cattywhumpus in the wash. The rest of the shirt can go hang. Literally.) And he came home ostensibly empty-handed.
Valkyrie: �So how did the shopping trip go?�
Hubster: �I didn�t find anything good enough to give you.�
V: �Awww. Is that because you think I�m so wonderful that nothing lives up to a standard worthy of me?�
H: �No, it�s just that most of the stuff that�s out there is crap.�
Not knowing whether this was kiss-worthy or smack-worthy, I handed him several hangers� worth of shirts and told him to hang them up. I�m not sure about that guy sometimes.