Now that Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s are behind us, retailers are blanketing the shopping universe with cut-out hearts and God-awful sugar treats emblazoned with “Be My Baby,” designed to get us opening our wallets again for Valentine’s Day (presumably a time to buy your spouse what he or she REALLY wanted after you dropped the ball on Christmas…) I love Valentine’s Day, in all its pink and red glory, but I must confess that I find the lesser-known commemorative days more fun.
We have Laughing Day (January 10), Weedless Wednesday (January 23), Pork Rind Appreciation Day (February 3), World Whiskey Day (March 27), Waffle Day (July 10), Mosquito Day (August 20), International Sex Bomb Day (August 31), 50 Llamas Day (November 1), and my personal favorite NATIONAL HONESTY DAY (April 30).
I’m always entertained by couples who brag that they are always “totally honest” with each other. They’ve usually been married less than a year. Total honesty is to a marriage what a souped-up Mustang is to a new male driver…a crash just waiting to happen. While it can be somewhat acceptable, and even cute, when your 5-year-old announces loudly that “Mommy’s boobs show in that dress” or “Great-Aunt Bertha smells old” (and what child doesn’t love to crack up a room?), they will eventually learn the more lasting value of The Marital Lie.
“Do these jeans make me look fat?” “Do you really want to go with me to my family reunion in South Dakota?” “Do you think my sister is pretty?” “I tried a new recipe. What do you think?” “I’m turning 50 tomorrow. Do you think I look 50?” “My parents are fighting. Do you mind if my mother stays with us for a few days?” If little Johnny is paying attention at ye ol’ dinner table, he’ll quickly learn that the “totally honest” answer to any of these questions will get Daddy rocket-launched out of the big people’s bed faster than he can stumble over “That’s not what I meant, sweetie.”
Kenny and I recently heard the marital lie, in its purest form, in the dumbest movie ever, where the dying wife, gasping her last tragic breath, tells her husband she wants him to fall in love again and be happy without her. I DON’T THINK SO. I told Kenny that that woman is stupid, and it was a MOVIE. If I go first, he’s allowed a tiny, brief period of mourning (I’m thinking two weeks oughta do it), then he’s to keel over dead from a broken heart and join me in the afterlife so we can be together forever, LIKE HE PROMISED.
In the meantime, go warm up the car. We’re going to Great-Aunt Bertha’s for dinner. Yes, she still has 12 cats and a goiter. But you always said you liked her.