Lasagne, Suffocation, Pliers, And Wanting To Kill Your Husband (Lovingly)

Being married is fucking hard you guys. One moment I’m remembering our wedding day (all three of them) and I love him so much I could just choke on how cheesy and lame I am. Other moments I catch myself plotting for ways to kill him and threatening to put a pillow over his face when he sleeps. The trick to a happy marriage is to fantasize about those things but only say them 50% of the time. Also, a sense of humor helps. A lot.


Being Italian, F likes to sing, aaaalways. It’s like his favorite thing.

Francesco: aaah aaaaaaah aaah
Me: Babe! I’m working! Please?
Francesco: aaaaaah! I’m singing this African tribal song I just heard. [Looks at me and tries to be all serenade-y]
Me: of death? Is something dying and you’re channeling it’s internal screams?
Francesco: aaaaaah aaaaaaaaaaaah [romantically, AT me]
Me: Awe, that’s sweet. I love you. So much. But if you don’t stop singing I’m going to kill you. Slowly. And someone else will have to express your African song. It will have a domino effect. The entire world will perish. Be a humanitarian and hush, dude.
Francesco: How about you suck it, “dude.”
Me: I’m sorry?
Francesco: I love you. A lot. Snuggle? You look pretty.
Me: Hey, guess what? Married. TIL DEATH. Just let that sink in a little.
Francesco: uuuuuugh. Just one last time though, this is the good part. Aah…OUCH!


F: babe! Hand me the pliers! The Pliers! Quick!
Me: huh?
F: PLIERS! Don’t you speak ENGLISH!? PLIERS!
Me: Is the grill broken?
F: No! To turn the zucchini!
Me: OOOh! Tongs! Like how you pronounce the underwear. You want me to bring the screwdriver, too? How about a hammer? Wrench?
F: Asshole.


Me: Is your mom coming for Christmas?
F: I’m trying. I talked with her today.
Me: She HAS to come! You need to guilt trip the shit out of her like she does you. Cry, you need to cry. Tell her I beat you or that I’m holding you captive.
F: haha! I kind of did! Funny story! So, I told her that she has to come on Christmas because there is nobody else to cook for me and nobody can make me lasagna, and nobody can take deh care of me! And she was all, “ha! Yeah! And I bet your house is so dirty, too!” Hahaha!
Me: Wait, what? Did she say that?! I said guilt trip her, not throw me under the bus with your Oliver Twist, starvation, my wife is an American animal bullshit! You realize that your parents already think that you’re starving to death and they already think I’m the worst wife ever. You know what? Make your own damn lasagna!
F: See! I was right! You won’t make it! Ha! That’s funny…
Me: Our house is not dirty! What a jerk!
F: Technically the kitchen is messy right now…


Me: Hey, want to see my moves?

F: Uhm, I guess?

Me: Boom, bop, boom, boom, bop, [while doing the robot and shaking my head back and fourth]

F: Wow. Yeah, that’s a lot of talent.

Me: Ricka, ricka, bow, bow, erkum, erkum,

F: You look like you’re having a seizure

Me: I feel that you should be more supportive of my hobbies. If you were more supportive I’d probably end up on dancing with the stars.

F: This is your new hobby? Or you could get a normal hobby.

Me: This is my new hobby. I’m inventing a new dance craze.

F: Wow.

Me: Look, if the electric slide can catch on, I feel like anything with a title is pretty much a go. Welcome to Robot-leptcy. A new school.


Me: I love this song! Pour SOME SUGAR ON MEEEEE!

F: Who is this?

Me: This is what awesome sounds like. It’s so good.

F: I guess.

Me: Oh! And here is my favorite part! It’s where I play the air violin! Weee oh we wah wee oh wee wah [playing the best air violin you’ve ever seen].

F: [Staring at me wide-eyed]

Me: THIS is why we need to buy me a new violin. And lessons. Because I want to play ROCK AND ROLL instead of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.

F: You’re aware that this is a guitar solo, NOT a violin solo, right?


F: Uhm, I’ve said this lots of times before, but there is something seriously wrong with you. You realize that we’re driving down the freeway and you’re playing air violin and everyone is staring into our car, right?

Me: Enthusiastically!

F: Huh?

Me: Enthusiastically playing air violin. If you’re going to sound all judgy at least use an interesting adverb.

F: Right, because my choice of words is the issue.




11 thoughts on “Lasagne, Suffocation, Pliers, And Wanting To Kill Your Husband (Lovingly)

      • OMG! I was on the floor! so funny! You can definetly paint a picture with words!! i look forward in reading your post, it makes my day!!!!

  1. This post was hilarious.!!! It puts all my discussions/conversations with my guy in perspective. Reality is way more interesting than fairy tales😉 Thanks for sharing.!

  2. Misty that was so funny! I love reading you. My boyfriend’s Italian also, and I swear we have the same ‘shit’ going… Ciauuu

  3. Man. Your blog is the bomb. I’ve been having the worst day today, and this one really made me laugh. My friend and I just started reading your posts (we’re both creative nonfiction writing hobbyists), and I get this wonky hilarious idea that in another universe we’d be great friends. Or each others’ spirit animals. But in any case, you really make me wanna write again for sure.

Tell Us What You Think Here:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s