And so it goes, when your Favorite Football Team You Like the Best loses the first two games of the season by sucking on levels only seen in quantum vacuums and black holes. And so it goes, today, I declare myself a fair-weather fan.
However, the fact that he is (allegedly) a creepy, goofy, molester-nerd is not the reason I believe him to be unfit for office. Rather, it's because—as a card-carrying creepy, goofy molester-nerd—he didn't recognize that he had one of the greatest jobs a creepy, goofy molester-nerd could have.
As most of you know, for the last decade or so, my husband has been using this column to talk shit about me and our marriage. I have tolerated it over the years, but his last column was the final straw, so this week, I’m hijacking it.
Another unwritten rule is what I call the Upright Fetch Mandate, which is as follows: When one spouse is reclining on a chair or couch, and the other is upright, the upright spouse must perform any task requested by the reclining spouse provided that the task is quick and easy to perform.