Husband.

I have the best boyfriend ever.

Ooops. I meant to say husband!!! (cue hysterical-pre-teen-girls-at-a-Jonas-Bros-concert-excitement and jumping up and down and a lot of "I know, right?"s, which I only let fly around other females because I can't show Breezy to his face or he'll think my shit's weak.)

I still can't get over the fact that I don't have a boyfriend anymore, but he's been replaced with someone eerily similar whom I am to call my husband. I mean, he looks the same, he sounds the same, he smells the same, and he still won't put his dirty clothes in the hamper, but insists on leaving them in a heap on the floor one foot away from the hamper. We have not yet found that horrifying moment that everyone warns new couples with that sparkle in their eyes about. You know, the one that signifies that our lives are over because we got married (OH NO!). Instead, we have continued living our lives together as we had before and only "growing up" a microscopic amount - and that's only because of how many papers we've had to sign in the past two months or so.

There's something special about squiggling my name across dotted line after dotted line like I learned to do in the first grade that fills me with a sense of accomplishment. Plus, it's pretty cool that after so many jr. high notebooks ruined with me doodling myself and my crush holding hands on every blank page complete with a cursive scrawling of "Mr. and Mrs. [Insert New Crush's Last Name]", I finally get to use my crush's last name legally (and with him knowing about it, which is a definite plus).

I have the best husband ever.

While some husbands might be concerned about their wifey going out to a dive bar filled with horned up wannabe cowboys and newly single white trash women for karaoke night with some friends (which was a bLAST!), my husband had his blanket wrapped around his body toga-style, one of my athletic head bands around his newly shaved head, and was whipping a long string at one of our cats (we're usually too poor to buy real cat toys, and when we do my cats just hide them from us so we'll stop making the cat/dog play fetch... or if it is a toy bird that sings when squeezed, they'll wait till we leave the house and murderously drown the damned thing in their water dish so that its beautiful song can never be heard again).

Pictured above: Breezethocles The Awesome (self-proclaimed) taming a vicious lion