Pogo Bounce Out Of That Marriage

, , , , , , , , | Related | October 25, 2017

I’m the lead singer in a metal band that does both original songs and covers. When my brother got engaged, his bridezilla fiancée asked my band to perform at the wedding. At some point she realized that they were going over budget, so her solution to cut back on costs was to tell us at the very last minute that she expected us to work for free because I was family and therefore “obligated,” even though we had already agreed to work at a discount because we were playing for a family event. I was furious, and the only reason we didn’t cancel was because it would have been too late for them to find a replacement and I love my brother and didn’t want to ruin his wedding.

Between her refusal to pay us, her constant treating of my brother and our family members like crap, her refusal to make me a bridesmaid solely on the grounds that I wasn’t “pretty enough”, meaning I’m tomboyish, and several underhanded insults she levied at one of my bandmates for being a transman, we were all very displeased with her come the morning of the wedding. She was either oblivious to our displeasure, or she just didn’t care.

While we were setting up, an hour before we were supposed to play, the bride came up to us, stood in our way, and suddenly announced that she didn’t like our chosen set because it wasn’t “romantic enough,” even though she and my brother both approved of it in advance. She was apparently under the impression that musicians can learn songs on the fly without practice or having ever performed them before, and asked us to play the Celine Dion song from Titanic, to which our drummer replied, “You realize we’re a f****** metal band, right?”

Our bass guitarist suddenly had a light-bulb moment and told her that he knew a love song we could play for her. She got excited and told us to play that one first. When she walked away and he told us what song he had in mind, we all agreed it was a great idea.

When it came time for our set to start, we opened up with a cover of “Bounce” by System of a Down, which is technically a love song. I don’t think I ever saw my brother’s fiancée run so fast, in heels, and my brother was dying of laughter.

After the wedding, we found out my brother didn’t even know that she had decided not to pay us, and he made sure we got paid, even though his new wife insisted that we didn’t even deserve it for ruining her wedding with our stunt.

They got divorced just two months later, because it turns out that when you marry someone who’s controlling and abusive, they don’t stop being controlling and abusive. No one was really surprised at the divorce, and my brother cited our spontaneous song choice as his only good memory of the wedding, anyway.

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Gauze And Effect

, , , | Healthy | October 24, 2017

(I have a minor surgery on my foot. By chance, the only gauze the doctor has to wrap it is bright red. I head home after, and my husband is already home. He has some emergency first aid experience.)

Me: “Ugh, it hurts. I guess I should take my sock off, see if that eases some pressure.”

(I take my sock off slowly.)

Me: *fake surprise* “Whoah, that’s red!”

Husband: *stares blankly*

Me: “Aww, you’re no fun. I thought the red gauze would freak you out.”

Husband: “So it’s gauze?”

Me: “Yep. It’s all the doctor had. It startled me so I thought I’d try and get you, too. You’re not as surprised as I thought you’d be.”

Husband: *calmly* “I was screaming internally.”

(He was actually really upset. Whoops!)

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Your Brother Is Not A Mourning Person

, , , , | Related | October 19, 2017

(I’m folding laundry and putting it away quietly while my daughter naps in her crib. I find a shirt that, while clean, still smells like my husband, who passed away two months ago. I had thought that I would never smell him or his work again, as I had washed the last shirt he wore accidentally, so I start crying. While I’m doing so, my brother barges into the room I share with my daughter and sister.)

Brother: *barges in* “I want some of your soda— Why are you crying?”

Me: “Shh! [Daughter] is sleeping! And I’m crying because I found one of [Husband]’s shirts that still smells like him, and no, you can’t have any of my soda!”

Brother: “You’re still crying over him? It’s been two months!

Me: “That doesn’t matter. It hurts like h***, and you know it does! Now leave; she’s sleeping.”

Brother: “Oh, my God. It’s been two months; you should be over it by now!”

Me: “Over it? Seven years together, a marriage, and a child together… and after two months, you think I should be over it?”

Brother: “Uh, yeah.”

(He wouldn’t leave until I started throwing clothing at him while crying, effectively waking my daughter up, who sat on my lap while I cried. I folded the shirt up and put it in with the rest of my husband’s clothing, so that whenever I feel like it, I can take it out and hold it. My brother then tried to get me in trouble, but my parents and uncle took my side. Because of how he reacted to my mourning, I have yet to cry in front of another family member, fearing the same reaction.)

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Putting Those Texts Into Context

, , , | Romantic | October 2, 2017

(My partner’s brother got married about two months ago.)

Partner: “His texts all have an undertone of happy to them! He’s clearly still in the newlywed phase!”

Me: *because I’m a terrible person* “Would you say they have an… afterglow?”

Partner: “Ew! No! My brother is a priest! He has a Master’s degree in the New Testament!”

Me: “That doesn’t make him a priest, you know. He needed that for the private school he works at.”

Partner: “Lalalala, not listening! My brother is a priest and no one can convince me otherwise!”

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Looks Like The Cat’s Out Of The Bag

, , , | Romantic | September 3, 2017

(Our current apartment is too small to section off “Cat Free Zones” for my husband’s allergies, so [Cat] has been living with my parents until recently. He is only seven years old, but he had an undiagnosed health condition that, until two weeks ago, was completely asymptomatic. After an emergency vet appointment, fluids, drugs, and a terminal diagnosis, I pack him up and take him straight back to the apartment with me anyway, so we can do the best we can in his final days, because my parents aren’t able to give him the attention he needs. He has gone from a fat 12 lbs to a bony 8.5 lbs, and he has recently been refusing food completely [resulting in the dehydration that brought us to the vet for the emergency visit]. The vet gives me formulated high-calorie canned food to feed him, which he doesn’t like, but with trial and error over a few days, I finally come up with a routine that gets him to eat on a regular basis, and his strength has been improving a lot. Soon, I have my first double-shift day at work, leaving my husband to try and cope with my cat’s newfound finicky eating habits and schedule. This is the conversation we have when I check in during my break:)

Me: “How are my boys? Did [Cat] have dinner?”

Husband: “No, he won’t eat it.”

Me: “What did you give him?”

Husband: “A quarter of a can of formula, and a teaspoon of tuna.”

Me: “Did you microwave it?”

Husband: “Yes”

Me: “How long?”

Husband: “Like ten seconds.”

Me: “That’s too hot. Did you blow on it to cool it down?”

Husband: “Umm… yes.”

Me:*tsk, liar* Did you add a little bit of water to make it like gravy?”

Husband: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, he probably doesn’t want tuna because he had tuna for breakfast. There’s some shredded pork in the fridge.”

Husband: “Right….”

Me: “And make sure you only microwave it for six seconds, so it doesn’t get too hot–“

Husband: “Okay, got it–“

Me: “And you have to watch him eat it, because if you aren’t watching him he’ll follow you out of the room instead–“

Husband: “Okay….”

Me: “And pet his head and tell him he’s a good boy.”

Husband: “Sure.”

Me: “And you have to sing ‘If I Had Words’ to him and do a dance around the living room while the barnyard animals watch.”

Husband: “…wait, what?”

Me: “I’m kidding. If he doesn’t eat the pork I’ll try when I get home; don’t worry about it.”

Husband: “I changed my mind; I don’t want kids. You are literally the most annoying mother on the planet.”

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