Save Dakota Fanning!

Friday, December 01, 2006

A Familiar Voice Sends An SOS

You've seen GoFugYourself, right?
Oh god, if not: YOU MUST.


So... God, I'm nervous even writing this. Okay. Deep breath. See, I am a newlywed. And we're having our first Thanksgiving together. And his... traditions... are a tiny bit different than mine. For one thing, he doesn't want to have it on Thanksgiving because he thinks that's not what the Pilgrims would want, and whenever I try to explain that having Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving is kind of the whole POINT, he tells me that I haven't done my research and that he has and I should just let him handle things because he's a pilgrim expert. Also, believes that if we just leave the turkey on the counter overnight, Xe -- uh, I mean, some kind of cosmic force that he thinks is all-powerful -- will stuff it with good fortune. But I always thought it was sort of unhygenic to do that. He then wants us put on robes, rub our daughter with truffle oil, and read aloud passages from Battlefield Earth, because he says it's some kind of special auditing ceremony for babies who can't speak yet to confess their sins. Also, I like to say grace before we eat, but he likes to stand on his chair and throw his arms up to the sky and shout, "PURGE OUR THETANS, O GREAT ONE!" And then he starts laughing and clapping. Which, let's be honest, kind of weirded out my parents the last time so I told them it wouldn't happen again, but I'm not actually sure I can stop it. So I guess what I'm asking is, how the Hell did I get here, and yes, HUSBAND, I did say "Hell," because six months of your stupid free classes is nothing compared to a lifetime of being Catholic and I STILL BELIEVE IN MY OWN THING AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT THAT OWWWWWWWWWWWWW I think the chip he put in my brain just zapped me. What was I saying? Oh yes -- have you ever taken a Personality Test?


Everything Is Fine And I Am Fine And My Baby Is Fine And We're All Just Fine Here, Thanks!


Bitch, I have no idea what you're even talking about.

Oh sweetie. It's ... too late. You've crossed over. The light doesn't even SHINE where you're at right now. All I can tell you is to stay strong, drink a LOT (I'm talking vodka and tonics, not those froofy frozen peach things that TommyTom insists on blending up every night before he has his masseuse rub him down with the oils that reek of coconut), and know that you've only got, what? Nine years, eleven months and change left in the contract?


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