Last night, on the way to a birthday party for one of my husband's friends, I noticed the envelope of the card wasn't sealed.
"Are you going to seal this?" I said.
"Go ahead," said my husband.
And then I saw the card.
My husband had taken the party invitation and refolded it inside out then written Happy Birthday on it. "What the hell is this?" I said. "I have birthday cards in the house."
"Guys don't give guys birthday cards," he said.
Now, my husband used to be this guy's boss. They are both respected professionals. Yet I am supposed to believe that it is unacceptable for one of them to give the other one a greeting card but it's totally all right to hand over a gift card inside a homemade-recycled-badly folded "card" with T-MAC! scrawled on it in ballpoint pen.
"Did you sign my name on that 2nd-grade art project?" I said.
Of course he did.
It’s us, but in dead animal form. But not really dead because they weren’t ever alive. Undead? No. That makes them sound like vampires. So not that. Fuck. I don’t know the word. Hey, how long can a title be? Because this seems excessive. Someone should stop me. Jesus. This is as bad as 280-character twitter.
1 day ago