Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary and that means that Victor and I have been married for 19 years.
15 years was giant metal chickens and I think 17 years was when I rented that sloth and a tiny kangaroo to surprise Victor in our living room (he was very surprised) but I didn’t know what to do for year 19 until I saw this painting for sale in the lobby of a children’s pizza restaurant:
Yes. It’s the Anchormen, ready for a fight and armed with grenades and guns and clubs. And it is majestic.
Victor didn’t entirely see its magic and claimed that it didn’t match anything but in fairness I think that speaks to how uncolorful and non-violent the rest of the house is currently. But turns out that it totally goes in the guest bathroom. The same one where I stuck a six-foot surprise bear mural on the wall. So now it looks like the anchormen are fighting an angry grizzly, and that is the magic of our bathroom.
Victor says it’s unsettling to have an agitated Champ Kind’s junk staring him in the face while he’s peeing and I was like, “Why would his junk be in your face? What are you doing in the bathroom?” and then Victor reminded me that men pee standing up.
And I was like, “Oh, right. See! 19 years and we still have mystery in our marriage. We are awesome.”
Victor disagrees that men standing up to pee is really “a mystery” but I think it’s all in how you look at it. Plus, it’s nice because now when other men are peeing in our bathroom they’ll be less likely to make a mess because now there are four angry news men glaring at them threateningly, plus a giant bear waiting behind them.
In fact, it might keep people out of the guest bathroom altogether which means less cleaning. So basically for our 19th anniversary we got the present of people peeing in our bushes because our bathroom is now too intimidating to use. So it’s a present for us and for our neighbors who I’m certain will be entertained by it all.
PS. I just turned off the light in the bathroom and turns out that this painting FUCKING GLOWS IN THE DARK. Sweet baby Jesus, y’all. It’s like if the Mona Lisa smelled of cinnamon rolls and also cured polio.
PPS. Happy anniversary, Victor. I love you madly.