A fairy tale.

Once upon a time, in the far away, wild land of Utah, there lived a REALLY geeky boy with REALLY unfortunate eye wear:

And a dorky, chubby girl with REALLY unfortunate hair:

(The boy and girl weren’t princes or princesses or anything glittery and high brow like that. No WAY would either of them qualify. I mean…LOOK AT THEM for Pete’s sake! They were probably more in the stall mucker and scullery maid category, but since this is a fairy tale, we’ll just skip the drudgery of THAT reality for now.)

Anyway…

They left their dorky chubbiness and geekiness behind got married:

Well… the scullery maid left her dorky chubbiness behind… (AND she still looks pretty damn awesome if she says so herself)…

…The stall mucker is still TOTALLY A GEEK. With a lot less hair. Which is fine as the scullery maid TOTALLY thinks geeks with receding hairlines are HAWT.

(The scullery maid TOTALLY wasn’t intimidated or threatened into making aforementioned declaration about geek hawtness. Or punished for the crack about receding hairlines or anything. For reals.)

The scullery maid and stall mucker were awarded the great honor of being stewards of some of the finest lads in all the land. Even though they can be total weirdos at times.

In addition to the two fine lads, the family became complete with the birth of a fine, red-headed little warrior.

They were a humble but happy little family in their snug little cottage.

All was well-ish.

(I mean, they WERE still scullery maids and stall muckers and well..scullerying and mucking is a dang hard life at times. Still, the little red-headed warrior made everything as happy as it could be.)

Until one very sad, tragic day when a great curse was put on the snug little cottage and the valiant red-head was taken from them.

They were smited and brought low by a great and terrible grief.

There was nary a joyful sculley nor a happy muck to be seen for a very, very long time.

All was dark in the land.

Still…they had the two fine lads that they loved fiercely and they managed to piece their lives back together, though none of them would ever be the same again.

After six long years passed, full of tears,  tissues and way, WAY too many grief-consumed-chocolate-covered marshmallows, something happened.

Despite getting, um…up there in years, the scullery maid grew globe-like and the good fairy of the woods granted the little family in the cottage a miracle.

A wee babe.

Thanks to the fact that the stall mucker is the ONLY SINGLE CHROMOSOME STALL MUCKER IN EXISTENCE THAT IS INCAPABLE OF PRODUCING ANYTHING FEMALE LIKE, EVER, a sweet little baby boy was born to fanfare befitting royalty.

Little Prince Butterlump brought joy to all.

He made everything much brighter for the maid, the mucker, and their fine lads. He filled their little cottage with love and laughter and more peace and happiness then any of them thought they would ever feel again.

And at the end of our tale, the scullery maid and the geeky hawt stall mucker managed to stay married despite rabid dragons, tulgy woods, evil wizards, foul smelling monsters, hideous trolls, pits of despair, piles and piles of manure and all their mucking baggage and scullery-laden issues.

(Which is pretty damn awesome, frankly.)

The scullery maid and the stall mucker have been through many trials and tribulations. Wouldn’t it be lovely if their fairy godmother or Gandalf or someone decided they could just live in a land of gold sundrops and diamond ponies and live happily ever drowning in riches and eating bon-bons considering all the sludge-slaying, scullying and stall mucking they’ve done?

YOU’D THINK, HUH?!

The reality is that they will probably just have to keep on scullerying and mucking till the end of their days until they find out that Social Security has been depleted long ago and they will have to supplement their meager retirement by working at Wal-Mart as door greeters and selling wrapping paper door to door at the holidays.

Yay.

Stupid fairy tales.

The End.

(THAT was a freaking FAIRY TALE???? WHO WROTE THIS THING, ANYWAY?? They SUCK at it!!! Boo on them! BOO! Rubbish! Filth!! Slime!!! Muck!!! Boo! Boo!! BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Although…that end part about Little Prince Butterlump was pretty damn awesome and all warm and fuzzy and happy n’ stuff, so…you’re forgiven.)

Seriously, though.

Happy Anniversary, Jonathan.

You’re my very favorite stall mucker.

I love you.

Love,

Your scullery maid.

P.S. Forgive me for posting your high school year book photo. I WILL agree that the glasses in your photo are nifty because they are made of Titanium, but I just can’t bring myself to qualify them as “Totally awesome”. Sorry.  Eleven years doesn’t get you THAT much, babe.

P.P.S AND now I am having regret that I didn’t call myself a buxom serving wench instead of a scullery maid. If I went to the trouble and expense of surgically reclaiming my bosoms, I should pick an outfit that is flattering to them, right?

P.P.P.S. No, you can’t be the buxom serving wench, Jonathan no matter how much you beg! You still have to be the stall mucker. Watching you do manual labor is hawt. Also, hairy man cleavage is just WRONG. Like wrong, wrong, wrongity-wrong.

P.P.P.P.S. I know, I know. Throwing in hairy man cleaveage, tulgy woods and (falsely) implying that you have a desire to cross-dress into an anniversary post is not normal. But look at it this way…at least the last 11 years being married to me haven’t been boring. :)