Huh. What do you know. 200th post. I guess that deserves absolutely nothing different from my usual drivel then!
I thank Tami for the subject content for this post, and for the next one I write as she saw this and thought of me. Which is nice in a way, and disturbing in another because she associated me with some nutter. But anyway…
A man has decided to divorce his wife. Nothing devastatingly unusual there. Except that as part of the deal, he wants to go that little further and get his donated kidney back. I can see where he is going here I guess. I mean, it’s his. He paid for it etc. What right does she really have to it?
He was reported as saying
he had not only gave his heart to his wife, Dawnell, but donated his kidney to save her life.
As a side note, is there absolutely anyone else in the world called Dawnell? If you are…speak up. And I want proof in the way of £100 transferred to my bank account. Or is she called Dawn and he wishes that she was currently residing in hell, and just mashed the two together?
So he gave her his heart and is now saying he wants to kill her? Because if he takes away the magic life saving kidney. Then again, if he takes his heart back, that is gonna do much the same. Maybe he should take her heart rather than take back his spiritual heart? He could take it on a stick. And smear it in BBQ sauce. And cook it for 45 minutes on gas mark 7. He could call it a Dawnell-b-q surprise and dish it up to his dinner guests while supping a nice Chianti. I bet they could use that in a film! I mean, it sure as hell hasn’t been done before right?!
But I know some of his pain. When I got divorced from my first wife, it was nowhere near this bad. We each took half of the possessions. Sadly, in my half was my memory. So while she took my bed, I was left remembering her ugly gerbil face and her whiny annoying accent. It seems a tad unfair when I look back on it that she got the frontal lobotomy, and I was left with all those annoying memories. Although the more I think about it, the more I think she may have had the frontal lobotomy at an early age.
I once asked her what she was thinking as she looked a bit perplexed. Her answer? She dribbled and said “Flibble” while spraying biscuit filled spit all over the floor and my shirt. I should have got a sign then. Although thinking back, why I didn’t get it at the wedding when the minister said all the BS and the idiot responded with “I doodoo” in a voice like an elephant with a lisp and laughed like a deranged child is beyond me. I think I was caught up in the moment. Or the one before where I got reeeeeally drunk while thinking “There has to be something better than doing this for charity”.
The big difference between the kidney dude and my divorce is that he gave her his heart and kidney, and my ex wife gave me heartburn and wind. Although I am fairly confident we both wish they were sat in hell somewhere!
I am starting to wonder who was really worse off here!
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 