Yes, you're my Edward. Now, about fanfic...

So, my weekend has been interesting.

Overly emotional and involving too much booze, yes. But interesting nonetheless. I thought it was blog-worthy.

Get ready for story time, children.

Saturday: I slept in and spent my late morning reading fic. I then began working on something I've been wanting to do for quite some time- a new banner for the blog. (see above) My weekend was shaping up to be quite relaxing and lovely. Soon, my friend texted me about going out to the bar that evening. Of course I wanted to go out to the bar! (hindsight: bad idea.) So there I am, happily plugging along in Photoshop with my new banner and mentally going through 80's night outfits, when my weekend takes a turn for the... well... strange.

Enter the husband, who I refer to as "E" sometimes in these little scenes... this is important right now, trust.

(A little background info: E did not know the title of this blog, nor what the screen name EtomyB meant. This was for my own little self-conscious protection, and yes, I am speaking in past tense right now. Moving along.)

E: What are you making?

B's brain: Fucking shit on a stick...

B: NOTHING.

E (*crooked smile*- YES THE FUCKER DOES THAT) : Come on.

B's brain: melt... melt... NO!! RESIST!!!

B: NO WAY!!

E: Come on, show me!

B: NO NO NO NEVER NO NO NO

E proceeds to pretend to give up, trying to sneak looks at B's laptop screen whenever possible for the next 5 minutes.

B: FINE, if you must know, I am making a new banner for my blog. I don't want to show you because then you'll know what it's called.

E: I'm not going to read it. I'm pretty sure I know what it's about, so I have no interest in reading it. Just show me.

B: That's not the reason I don't want to... I know you won't read it, ass.

E: I will if you want me to.

B's brain: OH MY HELL.

B: Uh... NO.

Several moments pass in silence, and B begins to feel bad.

B: Fine. Come look.

E jumps over to the couch.

E: Edward to my Bella? Is that about ME?

B: *dies*

B: Fucking hell. Thus, didn't want to show you.

E: It's fine, I mean, I like your banner... blah blah blah... has now been tuned out by B's miraculous blocking mechanisms

B proceeds to ignore her husband in an attempt to protect her fragile pride while she goes through outfit after outfit for the bar and posts totally emo facebook updates.

An hour or so later:

E: What's wrong?

B: Nothing.

Fast forward through B's girly refusal to tell him what is wrong... let's get to the point

B: You made fun of me.

E: What? No I didn't...

Fast forward through B's refusal to admit that he didn't actually make fun of her...

E: I wasn't making fun of you. I kind of wish it was about me. Sometimes I think you like Edward more than me, so it was kind of... flattering.

B: Well you said... wait. WHAT??

-B's head explodes-

After she recovers from the aftermath of head explosion, B realizes she was kind of being a douche and decides to do something about this once and for all.

B: Seriously, you would be flattered?

E: yes.

B: *Cheshire Cat grin* REALLY?

E: yes!

B: Okay. The title is about you. I talk about you a lot...

E: *suddenly very interested* Yeah?

B: Yeah.

E: Are all your Twilight friends jealous?

B: Yes.

E: Are they jealous that I'm an awesome tattoo artist?

B: Yes, you know this.

E: Are they jealous that I'm a genius architecture major and fine arts minor, and an awesome amateur photographer?

B: um... I don't really put personal shit on the blog like that.

E: *pouts*

B: Okay, apparently you want me to.

E: *grins*

B's brain: concieted motherf...

B: So now, you have to tell me if you want the red pill or the blue pill in relation to my Twilight shit.

E: Uh... well... I don't know about the red pill. I like talking about Twilight about as much as you like talking about my shirts.

-intermission-

I would like to take this moment to explain that E is obsessed with clothing. ESPECIALLY dress shirts and cuff links. I was unaware that there was so much to discuss on this subject. All you really need to know is that he pretty much dresses like this on a regular basis:

I KNOW, right?? No wonder I almost had to bust a cap in some hoes last night.

Also, the man can TALK. So even though dress shirts are far more interesting conversation fodder than, say, guns (which he also converses about often), it gets a bit old after a while.

Anyway. I digress.

-resume scene-

B: That's not what I mean. Just, like, you ask me what I'm reading sometimes and it would take about an hour if you wanted to actually understand... or I could just say NOTHING.

E: Don't say NOTHING, but I don't need an hour-long explanation.

B: Okay. That's my red pill, then.

-end scene-

So he's taken the red pill, and the rabbit hole is really, really, reeeeeaaaaaallllly deep. Whenever he asks about shit, I'm just gonna tell him, and he better not laugh at me. Oh God.

The shitstorm of crazy doesn't end there, though. Remember how E is obsessed with clothes? He's also obsessed with his hair. He's also growing it out after endless hints to that end. And he sees going out to the bar as an occasion to get nice and dressed up.

He looked freakin' hot last night.

My friend came over and told him it was douchey to wear a tie to the bar, but I whined that I liked it, so he told her "USURPED!" (long story) and left it on.

I should've listened to her.

We get to the bar, already several sheets to the wind due to our extensive pre-funking. I was dressed like Madonna. The night was goddamn STRANGE in every way possible. I was still pretty emotionally retarded from earlier, and now also wasted. Strange events:

- I am better at the Thriller dance than everyone. This is just a fact of life.

- Some dude said something to my friend that ticked her off- I don't even remember what it was- and she and I proceeded to "dance-elbow" and pretend kick him for, like, half an hour. He shouted in my ear that he still loved me.

- Random hat-wearing guy asked me to dance, though I couldn't even hear him, but my friend could. I told this to the hubby and he told me "go do it!" I was angry. He thought he was trying not to be a jealous asshole. I wished he would be one.

- Goddamn freaking whore yanked on my man's tie and pulled him over to dance with her. I saw red. I kneed him in the balls when he came back over, then I cried. Then my friend cried. I should have done what I really wanted to do, which was rip the slut's head off.

-Friend and I sat on the curb waiting for our taxi, still crying, while some lameass in a Spongebob Squarepants t-shirt and blue and black striped tie proceeded to give the friend twenty dollars just for existing. He then regaled her with tales of his fortune. She still went home with me.

- We all got into the cab, finally. Cabbie asked how our night was. Hubby said "Long and arduous". Cabbie was not aware that arduous was a real word.

WOW, cabbies are smart.

Anyways, my life is ten shades of crazy, and now the husband knows things that I never, ever wanted him to. Oddly, it's a good thing.`

Lessons learned:

If you have an awesome husband, he probably will like you even more if you open up to him, not less.

Don't drink and be emo.

Hot husbands can backfire.

Good friends talk to you when you're upset. Great friends cry with you and yell at your husband in front of Spongebob, and then tell you to "go make out with him so it can be like a movie".

Typing this out has been therapeutic. I hope it's somewhat entertaining.