Men Suck

Sorry. It's just that I was halfway out the door to the Bridal Shower from hell (three hours away and in another state), when I noticed something in the back of our SUV, peeking out from behind the suitcases and the eighty-eight hand-made shower favors I'd spent days putting together.

Golf clubs.

I closed my eyes and rapidly shook my head, the way you might if you were convinced you'd seen a ghost. But when I re-opened my eyes, they were still there.

And that, dear ladies, is how my husband advised me that he'd elected to completely abdicate his paternal responsibilities, and not watch our son while I helped host a shower for the biggest, most pregnant bitch in Connecticut.