Marvin was Hot... Sorta

>> Thursday, February 26, 2009

I have written before about how I was guilted into marrying my beloved Marvin. Well yes, he sort of conned me into it, but I was into him... at one point in time. I mean technically I still am, if you call it that. We are married, and we hang out; I like him alright.


We were childhood friends, so it's not like I always liked him. I did enjoy throwing rocks at his head as he drove past my house on his bike calling me names that rhymed with "stink" and "crap" (*sigh* always the poet).


In highschool, Marvin went through this punk rock phase, and for the most part he still enjoys the music, but definitely doesn't live the punk rock life. I remember the moment I actually thought I had a crush on him, sadly he looked a lot like Gary Oldman in Sid and Nancy.


Today he's a closer match for George Costanza from Seinfeild - add some tattoos and a tad more hair. Oh and a bit of height too... You know what I mean?





It's funny how we always turn into our parents. No matter how far out there we go we always round back onto this conservative pallet. Whether it be now or when we're playing checkers 30 years from now outside the retirement center.


For some reason, I can't picture a 75 year old man sitting at a table in his leather jacket with that hand sewn Dead Kennedys patch, spike-studded choker, and bone through his nose saying "king me, Rocko!" while throwing back some jim or jack and spitting while flipping the bird. That's one hell of a sentence!


People change. Marvin's changed. I mean, just last night when he got home from work, he sat down and watched the news. The second his butt hit the sofa and his feet hit the coffee table, his mouth dropped open and he was snoring. The children were bouncing on him like a trampoline and Seven was chewing his socks... nothing.


I watched the slide show in my head of the rise and fall of the punk rocker: the days he tramped in the pit, the excessive use of safety pins, and the spray painted combat boots. Marv's all domestic now. It sort of played out like some National Geographic documentary.


I am glad he turned out the way he did. Because if he spit on the kids, it would be my turn to do some stomping.

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