This week on my Facebook Page, I’ve been having a Gen X Heartthrob Smackdown (sorry to my male non-gay readers). Anyhoo, I’m doing it because I’m tired of seeing my hub and his friends have all the fun with their NCAA brackets … and also because I’m bored. Continue reading
Like with debacle that was Tom and Katie’s marriage, or the demise of any celeb union, for that matter, Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman’s split, directly impacted my chance at a
lazy happy marriage, don’t act like it didn’t affect you!
Everyone remembers when Devito and Perlman got together right? I mean, I wasn’t born yet but I heard tales. Yep, just like Brad and Angie, it was a whirlwind — or something like that. Fine, I just know that they’re both short and funny and if short funny people can’t stay together… who can? Who can?
Ummm lesson learned. Do not marry someone as short or funny as you!
Listen, following the love lives of celebrities is like couples therapy … only cheaper. I think we’ve all learned some pretty amazing things for the price of a weekly gossip mag:
The Travolta’s taught me to avoid marrying arguably gay Scientologists, but if I must marry one, to now know that the house must be staffed with people who give happy endings and sign confidentiality agreements.
Brangelina justified me spending our entire life savings on a Chateau in France for my family to live in. That was the best week ever! Hey, do you think I can trade my food stamps for flying lessons?
I learned from TomKat that marriages with buyout clauses and auditors rarely work. Though sharing lipstick and Louboutins with your 4 year old is always a super awesome idea.
Posh and Becks made me see the need to conceive another child, with the sole purpose of naming it something totally random like, Stockbroker or Almondbutter or Miami.
R. Patz and K. Stew’s recent reconciliation taught me that the love of your life should totally take you back if you get caught on camera, making out with another man. Which is why I unexpectedly mounted a local anchorman in the middle of his “Live at 5” newscast (BTW they really don’t wear pants behind the desk!).
And yes, “DiRhea” once gave me the impetus to stick it out in the tough times to attain similar longevity.
Sure, their celebrity morph name wasn’t the sexiest, but it didn’t stop me from asking Mark during heated arguments, “What would DiRhea do?”
He rarely answered, but I like to think the mere inquiry got us through some tough times.
Now, with the news of DiRhea’s marital demise, I realize, there’s no finish line. You can never throw your hands in the air, run through the proverbial ribbon, and scream “We won! We lasted 3 decades, now we get to coast!”
No, on the contrary, it proves that we’re gonna have to work at this whole marriage thing for like, ever, which sucks because I’m pretty much phoning it in already. At this point my kids are numero uno and after a short list of important things, like our pets, success, and freshly folded laundry, comes my man.
So thank you DiRhea, because of you I’ll make my hubby a higher priority in my life. Well, within reason.
I mean, if Hollywood has taught us anything, it’s that when women get divorced, they find younger, hotter, more energetic men — with abs! Madonna, Halle, Demi, Katie C., Mariah, Susan S., Ellen B., you give hope to us all… mmmmmm abbbbs!