(the youngest one in curls)

I suppose no relationship is perfect. Even the perfect couple hits the occasional pothole in the road to happily ever after.

Today, we fell into a crater.

Mo is terribly sick. By terribly, I mean grouchy and unwilling to fetch things for me. She was sent home from work and hasn’t moved from the couch since. Unable to sleep for two days, she has concocted a mixture of Dayquil, Nyquil, Afternoonquil, various liquooooooors left over from some long-forgotten holiday, and an amount of Benadryl that should last her sometime into the new year. And it’s only April.

As we were looking for something on the 400 channels of blather (Mo has developed a hankering for sequined shirts on the QVC channel in her weakened state and must be supervised constantly), she declared there was nothing to watch. And then mentioned that the only thing on was A BRADY BUNCH MARATHON!!!

I know, I know. Normally a Brady Bunch Marathon would be reason to ask for the day off, but I was totally unaware. But fate provided me with weird days off this week, so here I am. I have a Popsicle. I have a diet Coke. I have my Johnny Bravo lucky boxers. I’m ready.

No, she declares. She tells me she HATES the Brady clan and under no circumstances will be visiting their neighborhood in that “I’m hopped up on the cold medicine and no jury in the land will convict me when they find you in the garbage disposal” kind of way.

I was stunned. Who doesn’t love the Brady Bunch? These were my childhood friends. Yes, I was a pathetic child. Don’t judge. I LOVE the Brady Bunch. She muttered something that probably involved poignant stories and sound explanations. I was too busy trying to do the math as to whether she would pass out in time for the last few episodes.

How could she not love the Brady Bunch?

And then it hit me. She doesn’t need to watch it. She already lived it. (Mo was Cindy.)

mo stripe

Come to think of it, I grew up with two brothers. So that makes us … uh oh.

Sorry, Mo. I guess I can live without Alice. (come to think of it, the concept of Sam the Butcher always seemed like a psycho-drama waiting to happen.)

I hope you’re having a lovely dream about Johnny Bravo …

About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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14 Responses to (the youngest one in curls)

  1. kynanmatz says:

    There are indeed worse shows to have lived.

    Anything currently on Disney comes to mind.

  2. Madiantin says:

    I was about to comment something, and then I read Kynan’s comment and it was so awesome I forgot what I was going to comment. So just pretend I commented something just like Kynan’s, cos that was pure truth and wisdom right thar.

  3. MildSauce says:

    What the hell, isn’t Kynan, like, 22? I feel like Kynan should probably get off my lawn, but that we both should probably stay off yours and Mo’s.

  4. jensternc says:


  5. Bubbles McGillicutty says:

    Exactly how old of a kid were you when the Brady Bunch was on??

    I know Mo is only 29, but I just assumed that the Benevolent God was really generous I in giving you a spectacularly awesome younger wife.

    • I was 13 when the Bradys debuted. I talked to Mo’s sister last night, and she said they loved the Bradys growing up as well (and Mo really DID picture herself as Cindy.) So must’ve been some run-in with a station wagon later in life that turned her against them.

      • Running Nole Fan says:

        I think I’m having PTSD recalling our awful station wagon. Melted crayons all over the place. Yes, growing up in the south is special.

  6. jamiandbrianandanna says:

    Oh my nose! Oh my nose!

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