When I say the name “James Garfield” if it means anything to you other than “that amazingly awesome were-bear-hog thing that Jenny was robbed of because her husband didn’t understand the importance of James Garfield” then you need to stop reading this and go read this first. Go ahead. I’ll wait.
Good. Because I spent an entire week mourning the loss of James Garfield. I brought him up constantly. I showed pictures of him to my in-laws during Thanksgiving dinner. Every time Victor made a joke I was all “Oh, James Garfield would have loved that” and then I’d look longingly out the window and sigh. It was distressing for everyone concerned. Mostly for me and James Garfield.
Then, this afternoon, Victor said he wanted to drive around and so I stuck my nose in a book and when I looked up THERE WAS JAMES GARFIELD. I mean, not *right* there but it was the house that James Garfield was from, so close enough, and I screamed “OH MY GOD, THIS IS JAMES GARFIELD’S HOUSE” and Victor was all “Well, I was going to see if I could talk them down to $50 for that damn thing so you’d shut up about it but looks like they’re closed” and I’m all “RING THE DOORBELL! MAKE THEM GIVE YOU JAMES GARFIELD” and Victor kind of huffed in disgusted sort of way but it was that defeated kind of huff where you can tell that they’ve already given up all hope and he went to the door and disappeared into the house and just when I started to think that he’d been murdered and that I’d lost both my husband and James Garfield he stepped back outside AND HIS ARMS WERE JAMES GARFIELDLESS. So I’m all “Where is James Garfield? Did someone else get him? Did you get their credit card number because maybe we can track him” and Victor was all “No. No one bought him and the guy inside asked me if you needed therapy” and I’m all “No he didn’t” and he’s all “Yeah, he did. I said ‘Sorry to bother you but my wife is obsessed with that giant stuffed pig and so if you still have it I’d like to make you an offer‘ and the guy at the door said ‘Really? Is your wife in therapy?‘ True story.” Then I just kind of glared at Victor because this wasn’t really answering my primary question of where the hell is James Garfield and turns out that the guy wouldn’t take $50 because he said that “the tusks were worth $60” and he’d sooner just pull out James’ teeth and sell them on Ebay and this is when I lost. my. shit. I’m all “HE’S GOING TO DISMEMBER JAMES GARFIELD?!” (There isn’t a font big enough to portray my indignation here but it was palpable. Like, so much so that it woke up Hailey in the backseat and she was all “Hey, isn’t this the house where we saw James Garfield?”) Then Victor was like “I am not paying $90 for that thing” and I’m all “THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!” And seriously, I was really kind of pissed because 1) that guy was totally holding James Garfield hostage and was clearly part of the mafia and 2) because why are we even having this discussion? JUST PAY THE GUY AND GET JAMES GARFIELD IN THE DAMN CAR. Then Victor sighed really loudly and went back inside and like 5 minutes later he came out of the house carrying James Garfield like some kinda goddamn American hero.
Honestly, I cried a little. Hailey clapped and cheered. Victor had his eyes rolled so far back in his head that I was surprised he could still see. James Garfield looked like if he was alive he would have licked Victor in gratitude.
IT WAS AWESOME. Except that Victor was still pissed off that I made him spend $90 on a stuffed pig so I told him that James Garfield would totally make that money up. This is where you come in. I need 9 of you to buy a handmade James Garfield Xmas/Hanukah card for $10. Handmade by me. Lovingly. Blank or made out to you with a special greeting. Or I can make it an angry hate-mail and send it anonymously to that bitch in the next cubicle that you hate so much. Whatever you want. And I’ll stick a Bloggess sticker in there too. Just email me if you’re in. (firstname.lastname@example.org) And if more than 9 of you actually want a card I’ll use the extra cash to engrave a brass nameplate that says something like, “The Irrepressible James Garfield“.
Victor says it should say “The Unreturnable James Garfield.” Victor is on thin ice.
But right now, James Garfield is looking down at me and practically daring me not finish my book. James Garfield is paying for himself. In motivation.
Victor says “motivation won’t pay the water bill”. I’m all, “We pay for water?”
Victor is refusing to talk to me. Probably because he’s embarrassed that he got suckered into paying for water.
Comment of the day: Never has there been a more pure expression of love than buying your wife the mangled boar’s head she’s been dreaming of. Diamonds are forever, but boar’s heads are fucking AWESOME and they cost, like, $300 less than diamonds so Victor pretty much made the best choice ever. He shouldn’t feel chagrined. He should feel like a fucking provider. ~ Allie