Getaway With Husband Quotes

and sure enough, emmett's voice rose above the din. at some point, though, a mistake becomes a decision, whether you like it or not. in this, my husband and i were fundamentally different. in my opinion, a mistake required a getaway.

He didn’t have much back then, but he always made sure I knew how much he adored me. It was little things, you know? Bringing me bouquets of wildflowers to the art gallery I worked at, booking little weekend getaways here and there. We’d go wine tasting, or to see Broadway shows. I’m not sure theater was Vince’s thing really, but he knew I loved it.

I booked hotel rooms in the city, I lit candles, I planned surprise weekend getaways, I bought porn! My Google search history is probably still full of all the porn I bought, and tomorrow I might get hit by a bus and people will see my Google porn history and it won’t be pretty!” I sob. “For three years I tried everything I could to get my husband to have sex with me, and nothing worked. Now I’m going to die, sexless and alone, with student/teacher pornography stuck in my cookies!” Ariel quickly drops down next to me, grabs the Clone-a-Willy from my hand and chucks it across the room. “You are NOT going to die sexless and alone with anything stuck in your cookie, aside from another much larger, much more enjoyable frickle,” Ariel reassures me. “He really didn’t have a very satisfying frickle. God, I miss sex,” I say with a sigh. “His frickle was fucked, and he wouldn’t know how to use it if he had a road map and a tour guide.” “See? It’s fun saying frickle!” Belle exclaims.

QUICK MENTAL RECAP: KIDNAPPED BY Mafia gang ruled by insane, chain-smoking reject from the sixties—female; discover husband has alias name and FBI badge that he’s been able to keep hidden from me for seventeen years (reminder to self: get a clue!); follow half-baked scheme provided by Brad Pitt look-alike to make a quick getaway through guest bathroom; wind up playing bad game of Twister in bathtub with Elvis Presley wannabe; witness the whacking of FBI husband; hear Elvis Presley wannabe proclaim, regarding husband’s whacker: “That’s No Toes” and follow up with obvious comment, “Dis ain’t good.” Would Al Pacino be caught dead in this movie? Definitely not.