So the other day I complained about how lame this blog was becoming. And then I talked about schnau-zas. And the economy. And Disney princesses. That’s how I roll. I’m deep like that. Real deep.
And Bagel and Finch, I have no idea who you are, but God bless ya. Thanks for leaving me a comment on yesterday’s post and telling me that it would be mean to shut this here blog down. God bless ya indeed.
Anyway, I was thinking of ways I could make my posts less lame. Actually, “ways” is too generous a term. I only came up with a way. One. Uno. Un- is that French? I took French in fourth grade. I remember numbers (or not), some colors and the fact that my French teacher, who was actually from France, couldn’t say my name correctly. She had a problem with the “th” sound at the end of it, so instead of ElizabeTH, I was Elisabet. Eeee-leee-sah-bet. Doesn’t that sound much more charming? I think I might start telling people my name is Eeeleesabet just to watch the reaction on their faces. And to charm them.
But that’s not the point of this post. The point of this post was that I was thinking up a way to make my posts more interesting. Lindsay made a comment over on my Facebook that Matthew looks like a regular mountain man in this photo:
He does sort of. Too bad he’s not wearing red flannel. And suspenders. He used to wear suspenders sometimes when we first met. But that’s when he was weird, before the Marine Corps flogged that out of him. I think he should wear them again, with a bow tie. He used to wear those in kindergarten. I should dig that school picture out sometime and show you. Remind me to do that. It’s unbearably cute. And a bit embarrassing. Which is why I should show it to you.
I think mostly, Lindsay was seeing the beard when she made that comment. She first met him when he was still in the Corps (Doesn’t that sound tough and gritty? Like Clint Eastwood. Or the Wendy’s cheeseburger I had last week.) and this type of facial hair would not have been acceptable so he was clean shaven all of the time. Otherwise, he would have been flogged. For his facial hair and the nasty civilian clothes he’s wearing. Did you know that’s what Marines call us, nasty civilians? They do. It’s what Matthew used to call me when we started dating again five years ago. I was his nasty civilian. And now he’s my nasty civilian. I tell him that a lot. It’s straightens him up.
Matthew and I had a conversation about his beard last night in fact. I told him that I didn’t mind him having it, but he has to keep it trimmed up. He was starting to look too much like a nasty civilian. He agreed with me. I think he was afraid that I’d tell him to get rid of it completely, but that would be counter intuitive, wouldn’t it? I mean, if he shaved it off completely, I couldn’t refer to him as Mountain Man on this blog, and then it would still be lame. And that would be sad.
But I could refer to him as Jason Bourne, like some of his friends do. Not because he necessarily looks like Matt Damon (Although my mom says that he reminds her of Nick Lachey. Does your mom even know who Nick Lachey is? Mine does.), but because he’s got mad killer skills like Jason Bourne. Seriously. He’s a trained weapon. A weapon of mass destruction. He even refers to himself that way.
Weapon of mass destruction. Maybe I should call him that instead, WMD?