Camille, the Hot Comma Momma is gone.
At this very moment her Grammatical Hotness is south of several borders having slipped all bonds of affection and quite a few of duct tape to launch upon a secret mission deep in the steamy bowels of Central America.1-2
For some people this turn of events comes as no surprise, particularly those who have for years secretly wondered what has kept a woman of such unmitigated foxitude attached to a man like myself.3
Even individuals who are above this sort of relational speculation do not appear to be particularly shocked by her disappearance, having heard her speak for months of her excitement to soon be “off to Nicaragua,” a statement I had always taken rather figuratively.
But now the reality of her absence has hit me like a flaming asteroid, bringing with it the extinction of all my happy delusions.
It seems like only yesterday, after her last disappearance, that I set out to make sure this sort of thing would never happen again. I explored the possibilities of moats, magnets, and bungee cords without any great success. I tried superglue, pheromones, and even subdural GPS tracking chips, all to no avail.
Then I got desperate.
Although I now regret it, I eventually retained the services of one Doctor Harold Toboggans to help me in maintaining my tentative hold on love.
The Doctor is In – Or At Least He Was
I chose him not because he was affordable, or had any experience in spousal containment, but mainly to get him off my doorstep, which in hindsight was probably not the best criteria to use in the selection of a specialist.
He took the job for an exorbitant fee and using arcane methods I lacked both the heart and the courage to investigate, he promptly delivered results: eleven months of continual residence and domestic bliss from my travel-happy wife.
Unfortunately, in the wake of the doctor’s unexplained disappearance the effects of this treatment seem to have evaporated, taking with it any hope I had of reliable Camille confinement.
The strangest part of this entire ordeal for me is the way my wife’s long-delayed departure has revealed the first and possibly only act of billable service performed by Dr. Toboggans.
Which has created a bit of a quandary, causing me to question one of the most fundamental assumptions of my existence:
What if Doctor Harold Toboggans is not the square root of all possible evil?
What if he’s just lonely, and misunderstood, and opportunistic, and incompetent, and supremely pompous, and simply in in need of a hug?
What if I start to miss him?
I’m not sure I’m prepared to live like that.
Hurry home Camille, before I do something I’ll regret.
—-
Don’t not do something you will regret by not clicking on Humor-Blogs.com. Or no, I’ve kind of confused myself at this point.
But I’m sure alltop.com can get it straightened out.
- Somewhere there is an essay begging to be written upon the consistent use of gastrointestinal imagery in postmodern pseudo-intellectual humor. «
- one, two, three: not it. «
- Duct tape. I mentioned that fact only two sentences ago. One of the sentences was really short. I don’t think it was technically even a sentence. It was more like a word and a period. Seriously, if you can’t even remember that far back then…
Then I may never have to write new content again…
Problem solved, please return to your previously scheduled paragraph.
…Or on second thought, maybe you should start again from the beginning. «
{ 1 trackback }
{ 23 comments… read them below or add one }
Don’t worry everyone, although I overlooked mentioning it in the post she is coming back.
Next Friday in fact.
Although I hope to interview her here on the Comma to reveal the details of her trip once she returns, I can tell you this:
1.) She is on a mission.
2.) Nicaragua is on the itinerary.
3.) She will return.
Take special note of that point number three, after nearly nineteen years together she is not getting away that easily.
(This comment backdated using proprietary time travel technology.)
LOL. Dude, I just gotta say… if I could write comedic prose like you, I’d never leave the computer. Or something like that.
So really, you’re saying we have a Hot Comma Houdini?
I mean, I’m rather impressed at her escape of duct tape. Obviously you didn’t use enough. Are you certain you were using the correct side?
Maybe you need to enroll in the Red Green School of Handymen’s Secret Weaponry. You know, in the words of Red Green, who uses it instead of nuts, bolts, glue, staples, propane torch, and solder, “Spare the duct tape, spoil the job.”
Wait! Doesn’t Dr. T offer a similar course?
If nothing else, maybe you could get ideas from 3M.
Brent is always so melodramatic. All is well. I am only temporarily misplaced, not lost. Do not worry everyone, I left him in good hands. Oh, wait…I forgot to make that call before I left. OK, now panic.
I’m sure she’ll return, and when she does, handcuffs. If not that well theres always the silence of the lambs option… wait no, dont do that.
Great post! Although I would have preferred if it had something about duct tape in it.
Good to see the doctor is in! Herr Doktor Toboggans, dear Sir, may you inflict us with your wisdom, and by doing so raise our fever and temperament.
KWA
I’ll believe it when I see it.
Who do you think I am? Don Lewis?
Let’s hope you’re not. I have enough trouble with the voices in my head without trying to jam your soccer team in there too.
I’m sure Brent has enough friends to help out if he gets himself in trouble…right?
A mind should be a democracy, I always say, when in doubt take a vote.
It is so reassuring to see how strong and tough men are when their women wander….ooops…I mean, when their women abandon…no, no, I mean when they are left alone at home to fend for…oh no, no,…wait… that’s not it either. I mean when their women “whatever” and “the MAN of the house” bravely keeps the home fires burning knowing that he is SO charismatic and irresistible that his WOMAN will not be able to keep herself away!!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
LOLOLOLOLOLO :) :) :)
Oh sorry Brent; I just couldn’t resist!!
Or possibly a Prozac, the option is entirely yous.
I tried that, but soon ran out of absorbent undergarments.
And LOBO has put me right off the idea of a catheter, so until I can have some plumbing installed in my study I’ll have to put on my blog just like everyone else: one post at a time.
I will not get angry with you Alex, but I will get even…he he. That is an evil he he laugh, not a happy one!
OOOOh I’ve had vengence sworn against me! thats the first time thats happened. I shall watch my back, and eagerly await you retribution… this is just getting wierd isnt it.
Well, you can take a few precautions.
For instance, avoid rusty ones.
Help me into trouble or out of it. I don’t think we’re talking about the same friends.
Either way, I’m here for you buddy!
Robin, let me assure you that in spite of my wife’s blatant “whatevering” I am still standing strong.
The fact that every couch, chair, and horitontal surface in my house is covered with laundry has nothing to do with it. I like to stand.
Let’s hope not, Karl. I was just getting used to his absence. (sniff)
I’ll work on that for next time.
3M’s duct tape wallet? I need a duct tape straight jacket.
Possibly two.