I’m Not Talking About It


October 27, 2010 by Marj Hatzell

Happy Birthday to me

Let them eat...potatoes.

Some of you may have noticed that my post from yesterday went POOF and disappeared. That’s because my husband actually read my damn blog yesterday and didn’t like what he read and asked me to take it down. Some people might call that censorship. I call it preserving our chances of getting lucky.

Anyways, he asked me not to talk about him on my blog anymore. So this is me TOTALLY not talking about him.  For now on I’ll just refer to him as “that guy I live with” instead of “my husband.”  Or maybe I’ll refer to him as “Friend With Benefits.”  That works, right?

Also Also?  A moose once bit my sister.  And also? My birthday yesterday was quiet and uneventful and I did pretty much nothing. No really, I glazed over, stared at blank walls, wrote an article for Here, ignored the dishes and laundry, tended to sick(not husband) and child (PNEUMONIA FTW!) and threw a tennis ball about six-hundred-eighty times. I lost count because, well, you know, BORDER COLLIE.

Later in the day, The Nephew and Bugaboo arrived home and we pretty much just puttered around and did nothing until The Nephew went home and then we puttered around and did nothing some more.  And then we finally decided that takeout was the way to go, since I don’t cook on my birthday.  But they all wanted Chik-Fil-A, which I can’t have because PEANUT OIL even though WAFFLE FRIES.  Sigh.

I don’t like big celebrations or being treated like a princess on my birthday. Don’t need a cake. Pretty much just like every other day, except I eat potatoes (HAHAHAHA!!!  Potato humor.  HAHAHA!!!!).  I had breakfast with a BFF, lunch with my kid and The Guy I Live With and Dinner was from the Fifties Diner near us.  Black and White Shake for me (Note:  Vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup is a Black and White.  It is NOT A CHOCOLATE SHAKE. ) and cheese fries. In other news, they now put bacon on top of cheese fries, which covers three food groups so it’s a balanced meal.  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Home again to put boys to bed and climb into bed early myself with dogs that snore and sleep with their feet up in the air.  There definitely was NOT a husband in the bed. Because I’m not talking about him.

It was an excellent thirty-eighth twenty-fifth birthday. Quiet and uneventful.  Just the way I like it.

5 thoughts on “I’m Not Talking About It

  1. punkymama says:

    Been told more than once not to write about the guy I share a bed, life, and kids with and I always reply. I keep you to a minimum but damm you are in my life, so to an extent I have to blog about you. Sorry…

  2. Flucky Mom says:

    Happy belated birthday. I like to keep things simple on my birthday, as well. Although, candles on a potato, well that’s a first!

  3. Shari says:

    FWIW, I think he who shall not be named (HWSNBN) comes out smelling like a real mensch when you mention him. Ha. But I get where he’s coming from.

  4. I blog about my husband – I don’t think he really reads my blog – though trust him to do so one of the rare times I’m complaining about him, or something he did… I think it’d be impossible to not mention him in the blog.. Plus, the loveliness about blogging is not being censored..

  5. Erica says:

    My husband does the same thing! I’ve started calling him Stedman.
    Also, don’t be jealous, but my mom used to make me FOUR kinds of potatoes for my birthday dinner when I was a kid. 😀

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