yay! it’s future ex-husband friday!
and you might have noticed that i totally missed last week’s FEHF. between fighting the baby AIDS and theatre stuff and cleaning the location of ”horders’”next episode my apartment in anticipation for an out-of-town guest, i found myself running around like a headless chicken. not that i’ve actually seen a headless chicken running around. because if i had, i’d prolly need a lot of therapy. and how would i explain a headless chicken to pharrell? and then i’d have to become a vegan, which would be a pain-in-the a$$. but i digress…
so without further procrastination ado, welcome to this week’s installment of future ex-husband friday!
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the back story: so i finally had my annual physical (one can still call it an ‘annual physical’ even if it only occurs every four years, right?) well, my doctor kept going on about my ‘peripheral neuropathy’ and ‘visual disturbances’ and ‘photosensitivity’ and ‘dizziness’ among other silly things. once dr. smartypants, MD was done with all her big scary words, i told that i was totally fine…and that people pay good money for pills that make them feel the same way. she just gave me that STFU look and told me i needed to get my head looked at. i proudly informed her that it wasn’t the first time i’d been told that. hearing the sarcasm in my voice, dr. smartypants, MD threw me some even more serious shade and said, “you need an MRI, missy”. lol, my doctor called me “missy”! and since she had sharp, pointy things at her disposal, access to all my medical records, and my mother’s telephone number, i decided i should be compliant with dr. bossy pants, MD and get that MRI.
and further supporting that my brain is all janky, i somehow managed to schedule said MRI on carmageddon saturday. a friend asked, “what were you #$*%@# thinking, coco?!” which i quickly responded, “that’s the point, they aren’t sure i have a brain, which would preclude me from the whole ‘thinking’ thing.” to which the friend said, “that could come in handy…” to which i responded, “i, know, right?! thinking totally blo……….oooh pretty, shiny thing!” but i digress…
if i only had a brain...
well, carmageddon/MRI saturday arrived, and i decided to grab both by the short-and-curlies. and while i was prepared for carmageddon’s deathgrip to take hold, the roads ended up being eerily quiet. which kinda sucked, cuz without the epic traffic i had no choice but to start some epic differential diagnosing...which lead to a serious case of the worries.
and then, just as a few tears started to well up…i saw HIM. and suddenly, i had not a care in the world. that’s because i knew that i had found the one…
my next future ex-husband!
future ex-husband’s name: arman the suave beverly hills adjacent guy
arman getting his carmageddon ho stroll on wilshire boulevard
future ex-husband’s occupation: purveyor of designer couture from the fashion mecca known as kazakhstan
future ex husband’s age: who cares…his sense of style is timeless
how we fake met: drawn to his cerise silk shirt, haute-waisted khakis and fierce white leather loafers, i accidentally swerved onto the sidewalk and nearly hit him. once we locked eyes, we both knew it was love at first sight.
how he fake proposed: over a bottle of chilled snow queen vodka and latkes served lovingly out of the trunk of his ’89 camry.
why our fake marriage fell apart: vodka makes coco mean…nuf said.
terms of fake divorce settlement: since he had six other wives throughout the southland, the courts deemed our marriage a fraud. as such, i wasn’t entitled to any of his estate. however, he left me with something more precious…a lifetime of beautiful memories of me unbuttoning that red silk shirt and gently caressing that teapot-esque physique.
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happy friday, y’all!
