I Hope They Let Me Blog In Prison...

I Hope They Let Me Blog In Prison...

I wanted to use the few seconds of freedom I have remaining to tell you how much I've appreciated your support and kindness as I attempted to create a blog that would make you smile, make you think, or make you just a little less bored while you were on the toilet with your phone.

Indeed, the time has come for me to bid you a fond farewell, as I am certain the police will arrive momentarily to take me away for life.

After seven years of marriage, my husband, Chris, decided to provide me with incentive to acquire gainful employment. He explained that he would be confiscating all the debit and credit cards tied to "his" money, and that I could earn cash by doing chores around the house.

Y'all, he tried to put me on a fucking allowance.

Never before had I considered temporary insanity to be a real phenomenon, but in that moment, I was convinced Chris was afflicted by it. And then, just when the rage bubbles started boiling in my eyeballs, my spouse took things one step further by revealing that he would dock my pay if he found infractions.

For example, he explained, if I cleaned the bathroom, I could be given as much as $2. However, if later in the day I forgot to replace the toilet paper roll, I could be forced to forfeit $1.75.

Y'all aren't stupid. You know how this story ends.

I obviously blanked out, and from the evidence strewn about me, it is clear that I shoved Chris into a wood chipper and then scattered his remains for the squirrels to eat.

So, goodbye, y'all. I doubt I'll have Internet access in prison. But if you do feel inclined to put pen to paper and communicate with me via good ol' snail mail, contact Georgia Legal Aid, as they are all I can afford with the 25 cents I earned before I did away with my husband.

Note: All of this story is true. Well, except for the part where I killed Chris. He's fine. I mean, he's sleeping on the couch for about two months, but he's in one whole piece, so he should consider himself super damn lucky. Oh, and I'm not going to jail, either. And, sorry, y'all, but this isn't the end of my blog, as much as you might wish it to be so. Also, and this is the important bit, I am not an idiot. I knew this day would come. That's why I ordered extra copies of his bank cards years ago for just this scenario. Duh.

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Oh, and Happy Caturday, y'all!

Here's a picture of me playing the card game, Exploding Kittens, with my non-exploding kitten:

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Seriously, go get yourself that game. It's the bees' knees.

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True story: Life would be super swell if we all embraced our OMG side instead of living a Facebook-friendly existence. So, let it out. Seriously, how would you react if your asshat of a partner tried putting you on an allowance? Like, maiming/divorce/peeing-on-his/her-toothbrush isn't out of line, is it? What's the worst not-actually-abusive thing your partner has done in your relationship? What do you think would be a sufficient punishment for me to inflict on Chris? Feel free to disclose details. You're safe here.