His Wedding Registry Will Be Nothing But Maxi-Pads.



(This is what I have to listen to, while I’m trying to cook dinner.”

Xavier: “The dog likes me better, because he’s MAN’S best friend, not woman’s best friend.  What is woman’s best friend, anyway?”

Caolinn: “Tampons.”

Xavier: “What are tampons?”

Caolinn: “Mom!”

Me: “You got yourself into this one, get yourself out of it.”

Caolinn: (sigh) “You know how once a month, women bleed from their hoohah?”

Xavier: “Ugh, yeah.”

Caolinn: “Tampons help you, so you don’t leak.”

Xavier: “Ewwww.”

Caolinn: “Well, when you’re married, you’re going to need to deal with this.  Well, if you’re married to a woman; if you’re married to a man, you won’t.”

Xavier: “God, I really hope I wind up gay.”

Caolinn: “We all do, Xavier.”

I Should Get A Fucking Oscar For The World’s Longest Running Stage Production


Some background…  My ex-husband has this funny habit of not paying his child support, and of canceling the kid’s health insurance without telling us.  He’s a winner…it’s a wonder we didn’t last.

Tracy: “So what was his response to the email about the kid’s insurance?”

Me: (laughing) “That I wouldn’t care about things like the kids being able to go to a doctor, if I moved on with my life, and it was time that I finally got over him.”

Tracy: “Oh, please.  You were over him two years into a nine-year marriage.  Can you think of ANYTHING nice about being married to that asshole?”

Me: (long pause) “Well, when we were together, I thought it would be sort of romantic to keep a secret running count of the number of orgasms he gave me.”

Tracy: “Seriously?”

Me: “Yeah.  After all…how hard is it to count to three?”


(I also deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for not telling him every time he fucks something up…which is all the time.)

Money Can’t Buy You B*tches.



And yet another series of text conversations from my friend Drew…the world’s most angry husband…  A little background, to make this conversation make sense…  Drew is Jewish and attended Princeton.

Drew: You are not going to fucking believe this.  I was rejected by the dog rescue.  How in the hell does this even happen?

Me: The hell?  Did you dress up like Michael Vick?  Did you have an erection in the middle of the kennel?

Drew: I have no idea.  It was based on my filling out the forms online.  They never even met me.

Me: Maybe they’re Harvard grads.  Maybe they want the dogs to go to good Christian homes.

Drew: *sigh*

Me: Did you look into the Humane Society?

Drew: They only have pitbulls.  Rachel would shit herself if I brought home a pitbull.

Me: Awww, look at you being nice and caring about what your wife wants.

Drew: Second thought…going tomorrow…finding one that has mommy issues.

**The next day**

Me: Hey, can you call me in for an inhaler?  I lost the other one.

Drew: How in the hell do you lose an inhaler…it’s medication…important medication.  It should be in your purse, so you have it, if you need it.  It’s allergy season.  What if you had an episode!?

Me: Are you lecturing me?  I don’t know if you’re qualified to be lecturing me.

Drew: Qualified!?  Give me the name of a doctor who is more qualified than me…please…enlighten me.

Me: Well, for starters…any doctor that can be trusted with a stray dog.

Drew: *sigh* I walked straight into this.  Do you even need a new inhaler.

Me: Nope.  🙂

Drew:  You are such an asshole.  If I didn’t love you, I’d hate you.

Me: Woof.

Drew: Grrrrr…

War of the Fiskars



(A series of texts from one of my friends, who is dropping off his first-born at college.  Oh, and he and his wife hate each other.  A lot.)

Drew: “At the airport.  Apparently she bought him school supplies.  For college.  School supplies.”

Me: “Well, he’s going to need stuff, right?  Take it easy.”

Drew: “Meg, we checked seven bags.  SEVEN.  And she packed the school supplies in MY carry on.  I’ll give you three guesses what happened to the scissors.”

Me: “Oh shit…TSA?”

Drew: “Yes, TSA.  And they threatened ME, as if any of this was my doing.  Apparently, we’re also safer flying without the red Swingline stapler.”

Me: “Did you guys also get him the big box of crayons, because that built-in sharpener is going to get you strip searched.”

Drew: “You think you’re kidding, but this is going to happen.  I’m going to wind up in a federal prison over a math compass.”

Me: “She didn’t do it on purpose.”

Drew: “I’m not convinced.  But it WILL BE on purpose when we’re flying home, and I slip a pair of scissors in her carryon next to a giant tube of anal lube and a zucchini.”

Me: “She’s going to stab you in your sleep.”

Drew: “Worth it.”