north korea, rectal kicks, and keira knightley’s poor boobies

26 08 2009

I guess it’s  time to change my “wedding philes” category into a “marriage philes” category.  Actually, it’s kinda lame to have either because, despite my lofty intentions, I’ve come to realize that what I know about planning a wedding OR about marriage in general wouldn’t even fill  Keira Knightley’s bra cup.


That being said, I feel the urge to offer up another sterling piece of advice rant to newlyweds, engaged couples, dentists, circus folk,  or anyone else who takes a mind to read this drivel.  Consider this your warning, because no one sure as hell warned me.

I’m talking about Sleeping With Your Significant Other.  And not sexy times either.  Actual drooling on your pillowcase-type unconciousness, right?

The hubster and I pretty much started having sleeping issues the first week of marriage.  I am a definite “stay on my own side, don’t you dare invade my little piece of  mattress” chica.  I am the North Korea of sleeping partners.

The hubster, on the other hand, spreads himself out like butter on bread.  That is, when he’s not flailing all over the place like a large trout, whipping his arms around as if conducting some sort of spastic orchestra.  Inevitabley, he ends up elbowing me in the head or, on one memorable occasion, kneeing me in the rectum.

But don’t feel too bad for me, my little tots, because apparently I am a mild-mannered “secretary/quasi-writer” by day and a flipping prize fighter by night.  Oh yes, I come right back at him with all the rage of a semi coherent bull elephant.

Last night, for example,  I went to bed before the hubster did (When Madden NFL 10 calls, he must answer).  One thing you should probably know is that I truly covet the hubster’s pillow.  True, when we bought said pillow it was originally meant for me, but I didn’t really feel its super-squishy comfort value until the hubster had already claimed it as his own.  You know what they say, ya don’t know what ya got till it’s gone.

Anypillowjealousy, I made haste to bogart the pillow of wonders before he came to bed.

In the morning, the hubster told me that when he finally came in to go to sleep, he tried to at least cuddle up next to me so he could share the pillow.  As I have stated before, my side of the bed is a strict no fly zone.  According to the hubster, I began throttling him with his own pillow and, when his fluffy beating was over, I muttered, “This isn’t over.”  And promptly fell back to sleep.

I have zero recollection of any of this occurring.

Dude, who effing says that to their spouse in the middle of the night?  Me.  That’s who.  I have to admit, it’s a little deranged, even for yours truly.

So there you have it.  If you have any fun stories about sleeping with your he pal or she pal, please share.  Or if you just want to tell me what a psycho I am, that’s okay too.




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