Monthly Archives: February 2013
My husband lies. I’ve known this for a while.
When I was in the hospital after throwing up everything for four days, including ice chips, and I had a tube down my nose to clear up an intestinal blockage, he told me I was beautiful.
He says nothing makes my butt look fat.
He keeps telling me that he likes my white skin (with skin cancer twice, I can’t chance getting a tan).
When I ask him if I’m driving him crazy with my back seat driving, he says, “Oh, not at all.”
When the Victoria’s Secret commercial comes on, he says “Please change the channel and don’t make me watch those yucky women.”
He says everything I write is wonderful.
And he tells anybody who will listen that my farts smell like roses.
He lies. But I will keep him as long as he’ll let me.
It wasn’t so easy to find a job around an Army base when I was with my first husband. The most exciting thing about working at Burger King was the roast beef sandwich that they had briefly. I started on the sandwich board–a monkey could do that–and worked my way up to drive thru cashier. Whoo hoo! I think I was more brain dead when I left.
We moved to Germany and I worked as a cashier in a convenience store on the base for a few months. I remember a girl I worked with whose last name was Egge and we called her Egghead, and the name fit. We probably should have called her air head because I think that’s all she had between her ears. She was funny to watch, and that’s about the only thing interesting about that job. The other thing was meeting a man in my cashier line who eventually restored my faith in men, which had been severely shaken as I was getting a divorce.
Back to LaBelle, Florida, where I worked for General Development Corporation, who later went bankrupt and deserved to fail. I started as a tour hostess and drove clients around Port LaBelle in a station wagon and gave them the company spiel. Soon I became a decor coordinator to help buyers pick out the colors for their houses. I was young and naive’, and I actually believed the salesmen when they told people, “In about ten years we’ll have a monorail to Fort Myers.” They kept clients busy the whole weekend they were at our resort so they couldn’t research actual property values and know they were overpaying for their property. A lot of cigars were smoked after the people were taken to the airport for their flights after being pressured to make a decision NOW. Besides that, I was 21 years old and my boss in his thirties was much more interested in me than I was in him, and he was kind of a lech. So I moved on.