Friday, June 21, 2013

I Could Really Kill My ________ Today

Do you ever look back on your life and marvel at how much time you wasted?  Like, for example, how much productive shit you could have accomplished in college during the time it took you to get drunk and draw penises all over your best friend’s stupid passed-out face and then take pictures of it so you could assemble a little yearbook for her? 


Okay, that was a bad example, because that was so not a waste of time.  In fact, I’m going to try to find the several pictures I took when we were finished to show you guys.


Anyway, if I had it to do all over again, I would have taken a lot less time to drink and draw on my best friend’s face—and a lot more time to write.


NOT that writing a blog that embarrasses myself, my family, and/or any unfortunate random strangers who happen to cross paths with me would necessarily be considered productive, but still—there are words involved, and typing, and spelling things, etc., etc.—so basically, writing’s a good thing.


I promise there’s a point to all of this.  And here it is:


Several weeks ago, I got an award from one of my favorite bloggers, Marcia at Menopausal Mother.  It’s called the “I Could Really Kill My _________ Today.” 


All I had to do was fill in the blank and write a post explaining why I really want to kill my _________ today.


Now, I know what you guys are thinking.  You’re thinking I’m going to do that cute little wifey thing and write a post about some silly little thing my husband did that made me want to just wring his neck, and that I’m going to entitle it, “I Could Really Kill My Hubs Today.” 


Oh, hell no.


First off, he really hasn’t done anything wrong lately, even though I keep encouraging him to because it makes such great blog fodder.  I even left my Reese’s bars (Have you tried the bars yet?  Even better than the cups) out the other night in hopes that he would eat them so I could berate him and then write about it.  But no such luck. I’m almost thinking I must have done that once or twice in the past, and he’s learned his lesson.  Dammit.


Secondly, I don’t want to kill the hubs today or any day because I don’t want those damned Snapped vultures circling my house, ready to set up all of their expensive filmmaking equipment and make a few bucks off of the hubs’s unfortunate antifreeze ingestion in trace amounts over the course of a few months.


Besides, there’s simply no way I’d kill him.  Sure, I’m Catholic and we don’t believe in that and yada, yada, yada, but really, there’s no way he gets to get out of muddling through this mundanity called marriage that easily.  If I have to be married, so does he.  And really, I think that poor bastard’s got the worse lot in life, anyway.  It’s as if God looked at him and said, “Not only am I going to make you get married, but you’re actually going to have to do it with a Tori Spelling lookalike…Don’t worry, you’ll be highly rewarded in Heaven.”


(On a side note:  Or how much productive shit you could have gotten done in the time you spent cowering in a corner as your best friends taunted you with shouts of “Donna Martin graduates!” to try and break your spirit?  Okay, that so didn’t happen.  But they did used to call me that to make me mad, and I like my version of it better because it reminds me of that Lifetime movie where they used markers to circle all of the invisible fat pockets on the girls rushing the sorority. Hilarious.)


No, this post isn’t going to be about the hubs.  Instead, I’m going to throw my 25-year-old self a bone (not that kind, pervs; she had enough of those in her day) and let her take it over so that instead of drinking boxed wine and watching For Love or Money on a Thursday night, she can get a little writing done and feel productive about herself—and THEN drink boxed wine and watch For Love or Money. 


So without further ado, I present to you 25-year-old Shay, starring in a post she wrote herself.  I think she’ll call it:


I Could Really Kill My Scratchy Man Voice Today

by 25-year-old Shay


Guys are always telling me that I have a sex-ay, husky voice.  I tell them that it has absolutely nothing to do with smoking, since I only smoke when I drink. 


A few years ago when I told a co-worker that, he looked at me and said, “Yeah, Shay, but you drink like every single night.”


“Sure, but some nights I drink a lot less than other nights, so that’s less smoking.  Like, say I only have one beer—“


My co-worker made a huge show of rolling his eyes as he cut me off.  “—When’s the last time you only had one beer?”


I thought for a moment…and another moment.  And another.  I’m pretty sure my mouth was opening and closing just like a fish out of water as I tried to come up with an answer. 


“You don’t even know what to do with your mouth when there’s not a beer to suck on in front of it, do you?” he asked, watching me with a disgusted look on his face.  “And you can’t remember the last time you only had one beer, can you?  It’s because you always have more than one beer.”


I snapped my mouth shut and furrowed my brow, now trying really hard to remember just so I could prove this self-righteous asshole wrong.  But dammit if nothing came to me.  “I’m sure there was one night—in the last year or something…” I stammered.  “And I’m sure that whenever that night was, I only smoked, like, two ciggies,” I finished triumphantly.


My co-worker blinked.  He took a deep breath and tried a different tactic. 


“It’s just that everyone knows that when you say you only smoke when you drink, it’s still like a pack-a-night habit.  So just don’t even say it.  It’s like how you start all of your stories with, ‘Oh my gosh, I was so drunk the other night…’  You’re always drunk!  It’s a completely unnecessary intro.”


“That intro is totally necessary!” I said, indignant.  “I can’t just say, ‘I pissed in a laundry basket.’  I need that ‘I was so drunk the other night’ part to explain why I pissed in a laundry basket.  I mean, what if there are random bystanders overhearing the conversation—people who don’t even know me?”


“They should consider themselves lucky,” he replied, sighing.


You hang out with me,” I pointed out.


“I’m on the clock.”


“Well, yeah…and you have no other options.”


“That too.”


This conversation happened when I was about 21, and I’ve calmed down a lot since then.  But still, smoking or not, my voice is deep and scratchy.  Normally I don’t mind it because guys are always telling me that it’s so sex-ay.  And I don’t think they’re just telling me that to get into my pants.  I mean, just because they normally succeed and then don’t call me the next day…oh, wait.  Wait.  DAMMIT!


Well, none of that matters anymore, anyway.  Because just a few weeks ago, I met my Knight in Shining Carhart.


And he doesn’t know it yet and I don’t know it yet, but he’s going to be my husband in 3 years.


Things have been going pretty smoothly.  I realized tonight that it was becoming serious because he was on a trip out of state for work, and he called to “check in” with me and see how my day had gone.


The funny thing was, for one time in my life, I had decided to go to sleep early.  My head hit the pillow at 9 PM, and I was out like a light.


So when the future hubs called at 11 PM, of course my voice was even deeper and scratchier than normal.  I had just been jerked from my slumber by the shrill ringing of my cell phone.


When I saw who it was, though, there was no way in hell I was going to ignore that call, even if I was way tired.


“Hello?” I said.




“Hello?” I said again.




Hm.  I pressed a few buttons on my phone and got back to my call log.  Nope.  I hadn’t been mistaken when I’d seen it flash across the screen the first time:  That call had come straight from my future husband’s cell phone. 


But why the hell had he hung up on me when I answered?


I didn’t have to wait long to find out, because three seconds later, my phone rang again.  And once again, my cell phone screen clearly displayed his number.


“Hello?” I said, making sure I put on a cheerful voice so he couldn’t hear the hurt and confusion in it.


“Oh, good.  I must have dialed the right number this time,” I heard him say.


“What?” I asked.


“Hey, Shay.  How’s your night going?” he asked.


“Good…” I replied, still confused.  “How about yours?”


My future husband started laughing.  “You’ll never guess what just happened.  I tried to call you, but I must have dialed the wrong number.  Some dude picked up the phone!  And he sounded ROUGH, too.  Like some big meathead asshole.  I just hung up when I realized it wasn’t you.”


My heart stopped.  Holy shit.  He had thought I was a guy.  And not just some guy:  Specifically, some rough meathead asshole.  Holy shit.


I laughed, making sure to raise my voice at least 135 octaves, which made it come out all crackly and shrill.  “Ha.Ha.Ha.  Oh, that’s funny.  Ha.Ha.  I hope he’s able to get back to sleep.  Although he was probably in the middle of some big stupid meathead workout.  He was probably lifting weights when you called…but then, why would he have answered his phone in the middle of his workout?  What a dumbass.  Stupid meathead dumbass.”


I stopped myself.  I was blabbering and I was going to give myself away.  Somehow my future husband was going to catch on and say something like, “He-ey…why are you so interested in this guy’s workout?  It’s because it was actually you that I called, and you just sounded like a big meathead asshole…ga-ROSS.  I can’t date someone who has a voice like a big meathead asshole.  Later, Skank.”


But oh, thank the good Lord in Heaven for the sweet blessings that He pours on us from above (I totally said that when I was 25, too, a-holes), because my future husband didn’t even miss a beat.  He just continued to tell me about his day and ask about mine.


And although I lay awake all night after we got off the phone, scared that he was going to go back and check his own call log and see that I was, in fact, the person that he’d called the first time and break up with me for having a scratchy man voice—my worry was for naught.  Because he never checked his call log, and he didn’t find out that night.


And he won’t find out for another 3 years, when I decide that it’s more funny than it is embarrassing—and that it doesn’t matter anymore, anyway, since I got the ring—and go ahead and tell him.


  1. Lol!! That's too darn funny, good thing you pulled one over on him :)

    I think about all the time I wasted and think I too would have spent more time writing

    June is Hydranencephaly awareness month - help spread the word

    1. Yeah, good thing. Now we get to be married for THE REST OF OUR LIVES. The mundaaaaanity!!!!

      Haha. In all seriousness, he's an awesome guy who lets me write whatever I want and totally "gets" my sense of humor. I've always been allowed to 'be me,' and that's a lot more than many men would be able to take. So I'm lucky to have him--and he's lucky to have me, too, dammit! :)

      Thanks for stopping over!

  2. Hey sex-ay momma!
    I've always loooved the Demi Moore voice, sadly I only get it when I have laryngitis (which isn't often).

    I had a part-time job as a telemarketer all through college (I know, I know), and I was told that my voice was beauuutiful. Not to brag (totally am), but the company I worked for had me record their voicemail "For English press 1". But here's the funny part, it's a totally staged voice, not my everyday voice- I'm a Telephone Actress.

    You know what? Why the hell didn't I check out voiceovers as a career? Gotta go look that up now.

    1. Kim, that is hilarious! I would love to hear some telemarketing stories. My best friend did the same thing for a little while and she has all kinds of things to tell about what the customers used to say to her. Um, that's a totally cool fact, by the way. I would brag about that, too!

  3. You sure did justice to your Triumph Trophy. I love that you did it a little differently and took us into the past.

    And I'd rather have a low sexy voice than a high squeaky voice any day.

  4. Shay, my sexy man voice havin' skankster! This is awesome and, as always, funny as shit. I love that you chose to kill your sexy man voice instead of the hubs! But you know, gotta say that I got really excited when you said you were going to dig up those photos of your friend's penis-ridden face. Because I thought I was going to get to SEE THEM. (ah hem)...So. Did you use a sharpie? Because that would be awesome and make me jealous. Although I have drawn penises on a bunch of faces during my life (and have been known to draw them on gummy frogs as well and then put the frogs back in the bag and offer them to people, continually disappointed when only like one out of 12 people even looked at the frog before shoving it into their greedy pie holes), I never did use a sharpie. It's something I quite regret, actually.
    My brother and his friends shaved off a dude's eyebrow once when he was passed out. I've never done that either because, you know, I'm a nice skank.
    PS - Glad he never looked at the call log. Also? My ex was a jealous person (which is why he's my ex) and totally would have thought I had alternate man-company over while he was out of town. Glad hubs didn't jump to that conclusion!
    MWAH. (but from a distance because I don't want your nastyass herps) (still with love though and all that)

    1. I actually remember thinking that later, like as an afterthought...I was pretty skanky back then, so it wouldn't have been a stretch for him to draw that conclusion. I'm so glad he didn't, though--b/c for once in my skank 20's, I wasn't doing anything wrong! Haha.

    2. I'm glad he didn't think that either! Ha!

  5. What a great story! You have to do a vlog, or at least an audio clip, so we can hear your sexy man voice. My niece has a deep scratchy voice too; sometimes I mistake her for my nephew on the phone. She's only 8, so it's just cute and not sexy cuz that would be creepy.

    1. My preschooler has one of those cute raspy voices, too.

      I have a friend who doesn't have one in person, but over the phone, it's MANLY. Weird how it comes through the phone that way but not when you talk to her face-to-face. I told her one time I actually pulled the phone away from my ear to look at the display and make sure I had been right when I thought her number came up. That's how manly it sounded! Haha

  6. My neighbor and her husband sound identical on the phone She's a heavy smoker, and her voice is very gravelly. I can't tell you how many times I have called over there and said, "Hi, Mike!" and the voice says, "No, this is Kelly..." totally awkward moment.... One of these days I'll have to skype with you so I can hear your Demi Moore voice!

    1. Oops!! Haha. We'll have to do that sometime. But only if your kids are in the background saying random, hilarious things so I can hear a Fly on the Wall post in action. :)

  7. Hahahaha! Such a great story! And yet cute, like, "Awwwww.... And they lived happily ever after."

  8. Classic. I'm sure he has witnessed that voice quite often since the first phone call. Too funny.

  9. Okay, first of all, I'm totally buying a Reese's bar tomorrow. How did I not know about them?!

    And OMG, why do people always gravitate to the husky voices? Whenever I get sick, I lose my voice, and when I was working I swear every guy on my floor wanted to dry hump my leg. So, so strange. But very good for my ego, you know?

    Sorry your hubs thought you were a man. That's rough. ;)

    Thanks for always making me laugh. Been having lots of issues with my site lately, so I'm WAY behind on my reading, and have been dying to come over here!!!!


    1. Dani--first of all, your comment about all the guys on your floor wanting to dry hump your leg had me laughing SO hard. I had to read it to the hubs, and even he smiled--and believe me, that's RARE. :) Secondly, I love you for always coming to read and being so complimentary. You're the best.

  10. Knight in Shining Carhart. Love that! I'm totally telling Janie, too - that's WAY more her style. Haha!

    1. A friend of mine noticed that right off with the hubs. I hadn't even noticed until she said something. The Carharts were his jeans, not his jacket, so it wasn't as obvious. Tell Janie to use away! :)

  11. Memories, ,,,, bam,, bam,,, bam,,,,, memories,,,,,, of the way we were!,,,,, love it,,,,, are you sure you're not my clone??
    Laughed til I peed my pants!

    1. Thank you thank you thank you! And I love your comment!! Come back any old time!

  12. What? Donna Martin! You look like Donna MARTIN? I have to see. MAN why are you so damn anonymous! Apparently your past co-workers knew all your bs anyway! POST A PIC!

    1. I'm not sure how much I really look like her. They just said it to piss me off, b/c that's how my best friends and I relate to each other: By being total assholes. :)

  13. Me gots the man voice after sleepy time, too. My favorite story is the time I did a phone interview for a job, after being woken up by my dad telling me I had a phone call. Um, you knew I was in bed, right? I'm guessing I got the job due to my sexy phone voice. Come to think of it, the guy did make a pass at me later...