So I just watched the worse press conference ever – 15 minutes of some famous dude reading (badly, I might add) this brutally scripted crap, as a means to apologize to the world that he’s a man whore. I didn’t empathize – I can’t really empathize with angry, arrogant dudes. I think he should have been down on his knees, apologizing to his wife, for humiliating her over and over. If I was his wife I would have thrown a rather large rock toward the tv. (Note: I said toward the tv, not directly AT the tv — no dude is going to make me destroy my only link to Modern Family, thank you very much.)
But it got me thinking – press conferences can be a good thing, if done the right way. In fact, I think I’m owed a press conference. Yes – I believe MY HUSBAND owes ME a press conference. So, I made it easy on him and prepared his script for him. I’m sweet like that:
Good Afternoon Everyone – my name is Husband (also known as SuperGoob) and I am here today to set the record straight on why I believe Maria is a GODDESS for staying with me after all these years, and why I truly owe her the largest and sparkliest diamond available. And a new camera. And a new house. And a Gucci handbag.
First off, I would like to apologize for all the years I’ve put my dirty laundry next to the hamper, instead of IN the damn hamper. My wife did not sign up for touching my nasty drawers on a daily basis, for the last 10 years of her life. I’m sorry, because truth be told, I suck. From now on, I will be doing all laundry, including folding it and putting it away to make it up to her.
Also, I would like to say that I’m ashamed to admit that every time my perfect wife has attempted to make me dinner, I feel the need to douse it with salt and various condiments, before I even taste it. I cannot blame her for wanting to throw said dinner at my head on a daily basis, and am greatful that she fights said urge.
Indeed, making her yell at me to do the garbage and recycling every Thursday night is so wrong, that I insist she go out and buy herself that new handbag this very moment, and any time that this ever happens again. Darling, I will feel so much better if you go ahead and spend a ridiculous amount of money on it. The enormous balance of that upcoming credit card bill, will fill my heart with joy.
But most of all, I would like to BEG for forgiveness, for every minute that I have slept in. (That’s a WHOLE LOT OF BEGGING in case you’re wondering). For every time I have slept through screaming and crying babies, sick and vomiting children, I owe you BIG TIME. For every time, I pretended to sleep, or ignored you when you were trying to talk to me, and every time I spoke to you rudely when you were trying to wake me, resulting in me acting like an insensitive prig, I owe you a million junk punches (with a jock on of course).
I will never live up to your fabulousness, or stunning beauty, and most importantly, I will never be as smart or funny as you are. No matter how hard I try, I will never beat you at Scrabble, or gin rummy or any game, ever. I love you so much that I will end this perfect press conference with as many cliches as I can muster, because being embarassed will only make me feel better about all those craptastic moments I’ve put you through over the last 10 years.
You are the wind beneath my wing.
You are the light at the end of my tunnel
You are the left to my right.
You are the pepper to my salt.
You are the funny to my cheesy.
Please forgive me. Sincerely, Your Husband