“Let’s go to Minnie’s. We’re close and I’m really starving.” We had been so busy that morning trying to hustle little Frannie out of the house to go with her grandparents, I had forgotten to eat breakfast.
“Maybe not Minnie’s. Let’s go to the Hurricane,” Mr. Husband said. The way he was turning and circling around the blocks made me think he wasn’t trying very hard to find Minnie’s.
“What? We are so close to Minnie’s, and I’ve never been to this one!” I was turning into the low blood sugar drama queen. Then I thought for a minute about the circuitous route he was taking. “Wait. Is this the Minnie’s that you were drunk at and turned all the restaurant’s lights off and they all hated you?”
“Yes,” he groaned. “There are too many bad memories there.”
“I don’t think they’ll remember you,” I said.
“Well, I also shot the window out of this one.”
“I don’t think you told me that before,” I said, trying to close my gaping mouth.
“Oh,” he said casually, “It was the night I got arrested for shooting my gun off in the alley nearby.”
He had told me about his arrest a long time ago. It was one of those true confessions you have to make before you get married. But I didn’t know he blasted a restaurant window as well, and I told him so.
“The bullet had to go somewhere,” he said mildly. Mr. Husband is Super-Casual, and since I am not I really admire that about him. I run around going BOCK BOCK BOCK every time I break a nail, and he would quietly tell you your house was on fire. You know, so you wouldn’t get too upset. Very genteel.
“I was lucky,” he continued. “I was pretty drunk. I could’ve killed the guy.” He thought for a minute. “Aah, no I couldn’t. I was too incompetent.” This made me laugh. “At least I had the sense to point the gun away from him, since we were just trying to scare the guy.”
“We can go to the Hurricane, then,” I said, but we were almost there anyway.
In Other News
True confessions you must make before you get married: that you have one or more A.K.A.s attached to your name, that you have secret (or not-so-secret) children, and that you
Yikes – I had to tell my husband that I once made out in a graveyard with his stepmother’s younger brother. That increased my “skank” factor by at least two whole points.
Hee hee, “skank factor.” I am so stealing that one.
Yes, there are somethings that are not forgotten by restaurant owners or workers. My sister and I didn’t know this when we walked out without paying once (we were young, 17 and 18, it was late, 2am, and we had waited a long time to get our bill before giving up and leaving.) We went back 6 weeks later, thinking no one would remember only to be confronted by the manager. Very humiliating! Do I need to confess this to my next possible spouse?
I’m still banned from target after pulling my little valentines day stunt. Ho bag lesbian with her being easily offended.