Dear Evil Discussor... Are you available?
Look, I know that I'm desirable. That each word that pours out of me and onto the screen can't help but tantalize and tease. That I tug and pull at your heartstrings like a tasty piece of Poly-O. But am I free to romp around with you, party-style?
Well, if one were to take a magical journey through the past, nostalgically drifting back through the illustrious and always mind-expandingly captivating history of this here formidable blog, from awesome post to even awesomer post, one would find a few nods to this person I refer to as "wife." Now, sure, it sounds like when I say "wife" what I'd be referring to is "wife." But, I suppose, one could read this many ways. Maybe I'm referring not to my wife, but to someone else's wife. Or maybe even I meant to say "life" or "wizard" but mistyped. Maybe I have a friend who after a bizzare and experimental high school boating weekend was given the nickname "Wife" and it just stuck. Perhaps what I call a "wife" is really just a cardboard cut out of Soledad O'Brien I prop up on the couch. Or, better yet, was I making all that stuff up about a wife just to appear wiser and more husband-like to my adoring fans? Just to make my words and opinions seem more worldier? Or is it possibly true? Would someone marry me? IS THERE REALLY A MRS. DISCUSSOR?
No. I'm not married.
I just choose to spend most of my weekends at Crate & Barrel, deliberating over whether to get the Twin Coverlet in aloe, aqua or azure.
And wait a fucking minute. Aren't those all the same color?
Yours as always,
P.S. Yes, of course we went with azure.