Make no mistake about it: People who are one year and one day removed from a surgery to have skull bones reinserted so they needn’t walk around town with a helmet over their mohawk-looking head really shouldn’t be talking about misshapen domes. So, I’m gonna let lilliput Ashley Glenn’s misshapen dome slide by without comment. The right thing to do, it is.
But here’s what isn’t the right thing to do: Freezing your husband out to the point where he has to go on national daytime television and say, “We have honestly had sex probably about 5, 6 times in the past two years.” Not only is it emasculating, but it’s gonna lead him to find other outlets that accept a dude having one of those pencil-thin connectors from sideburn to goateebeard. Don’t believe me? Check this shit out, yo.
“The final straw was him cheating on me,” says Ashley.
“I actually went out to the bar with the intentions of finding the ugliest woman that I could in that bar. I was just takin’ her home, getting rid of my primal urge and I was gonna go back to my wife and I was happy,” says Justin.
Let’s roll that one around for another second: He wanted to bang the ugliest chick he could. In one sense, it’s like a frat dare. In another, it’s so fucking wrong Shawn Kemp would be offended. But there is a prism that says, Ok dude, at least you weren’t a’cheatin out of lust for the other woman; you’d have fucked a pre-diet Ruby just to bust a nut.
Yeah, that’s how Divorce Court is bringing this week to an end, yo.
But is that what Ashley’s most pissed about? Nope, it’s World of Warcraft, specifically Justin’s addiction to it. C’mon, lady. That’s so ancillary to your real problems. (Retorts hubby, “The game doesn’t argue. The game doesn’t talk back. Whenever I tell it to stop, it stops. Whenever I tell it to shoot somebody, it shoots somebody.”) At least Justin, who admits to only having five pairs of underwear as part of some sort of redneck faith, brings Ashley’s financial irresponsibility to the table. And her unwillingness to keep the house clean and cook for him. Like a good woman does.
“God skipped the affection gene whenever he made her,” Justin said before launching into a no-sex tirade involving rose pedals on the ground, chick-movies in the VCR and how she walked in and said, “Looks nice. You going to clean this up when I go to sleep?”
She said it was because of the video games. “He plays video games right after we have sex. He doesn’t sit there with me and cuddle me, comfort me or anything.”
Comfort you? C’mon. No wonder your head’s misshapen. It’s just chock full of idiotic fantasies about how best to castrate your man without scissors.
Sorry, just had to.