Humorous Text Messages Exchanged Between Mr. Curmudgeon (Mr. C) and Me #1 –
*Note to my blog readers – I write a majority of my blog posts when Mr. C is still sleeping – very early in the morning. They are written fast, prior to me beginning to work on various, creative projects for my upcoming boutique. These letters are in rough draft format. Please be kind when reading them. I thought that I’d show the world a peek inside of the process of imperfection prior to something transcending into perfection. I would much rather start somewhere, correcting my mistakes as I go, than never starting because I’m fearful of showing the world my imperfections. The support of my readers encourages me to move forward upon my journey towards greatness and fulfilling my dreams. Thank you for supporting me. For those of you who have followed my blog for numerous years, thanks for remaining with me as I continue to adventure onward on this journey called – Life.
My husband can be such a dick head sometimes. It’s awesome. I never know what’s going to come out of his mouth dripping with sarcasm. I thought you would get a kick out of these text messages which I received from him this evening. I sent him to the grocery store to pick up a few items, after he finished a very long day at work. We were supposed to do it this morning, but I wanted to buy paint, return home and work – ASAP.
I received these messages while I was attempting to pee. I like to make good use of my time, returning text messages, posting to Instagram, editing blog posts and returning emails, as I’m walking to the toilet, sitting on it, or returning to my work area. I chuckled so hard that my urine only trickled out of me. I couldn’t pee in full stream because my body was convulsing with laughter – the muscles in my full bladder constricted tightly with each belly roll of exploding humor.
Here’s the exchange of text messages – these may not be as humorous to others, but it sure brightened up my day. I believe humor can heal the human soul.
I’m determined to make it as an artist, writer, and boutique owner. I’m definitely going to self – publish my first, fifteen letters to you as soon as I’m able to afford it. I’m using everything I have to get there. I’m spinning my life experiences into gold, much like the girl in the story of Rumpelstiltskin, who transformed basic straw into precious metal. All that it takes is my determination, perseverance, the imagination to dream big and the ability to work hard, applying thick coats of elbow grease.
Mr. C – Good thing there is ONLY one kind of Ramen…huh! – Beef…chicken???
Me – Beef…sorry… (Oops – I wrote list in a hurry)
Mr. C – BEANS? Black and Lima… This sounds like blah blah blah blah to me. ( I wrote on the list DRY Lima beans – he gets confused easy when he has to purchase anything other than hamburger, ice cream, pizza and ketchup)
Me – LMAO…forget it…Great writing material, baby…Lol
Mr. C – In cans or wtf?
Me – Forget it…
Mr. C – FUCK…There’s bags too!
Me – I want the dry beans in the bag
Mr. C – No lima beans….6 different kinds of black beans 😦
Me – Lol…Like I said before in my previous texts messages – forget it – – I must document this conversation…quite the classic curmudgeon moment…bravo dick head 🙂
Mr. C – Beans …beans…good for the heart
A million kinds that will make you fart. 😉
Mr. C’s such a shit head…I love him with all of my heart…what an ass!
I have much to get done today, Henry. I need to begin writing another letter, about another person who I met when I began as a published writer, reviewing music reviews for Twincitiesbluesnews.com – It’s about the greatness and the passionate power of a female, blues artist, who scared the Mother Fucking crap out of me, as I interviewed her, one night at Famous Dave’s – Calhoun Square – Uptown, Minneapolis – so long ago. This was at the beginning of my writing career.
P.S. The biggest lesson I’ve learned during the past year as an artist is to make sure that my overall straps are not dangling in the toilet bowl prior to peeing. It’s a fucking bitch when that happens. You should hear the swear words that come flying out of my mouth when it does.
Bisous, Mon Amour