Poop On My Neck

Courtney frequently tells me how I don't post enough on our family blog; after all, we ARE a family, aren't we? Typically on such occasions I simply remind her that I created this blog -and she has stolen it from me. This fact is made observable by the lack of truly creative and artistic photographs, such as the picture of Dustin Watts and myself dashingly clad in mustaches (please see picture at far right).

Tonight, however, upon hearing this recurring complaint I submitted to an unfamiliar desire for change and diversity- and decided to write a post. What rare occasion would prompt such an impulsive change of heart? you might ask. To answer this inquiry, I would tell you of an unfortunate occurrence earlier this evening. As I sat on our unaccommodating NY apartment bed, entwined in the subtle nuances of Family Guy, Courtney, in a moment of supposed affection leaned in to kiss my cheek. In anxious anticipation, I mirrored her movements only to see her balk in confusion. Sensing her uncertainty, I asked what was the problem. Looking at my neck with furrowed brows, she then relaxed her face and smiled in relief. She told me that when she initially leaned over to kiss my cheek, she thought a mole on my neck was, in fact, not a mole but a piece of poop.

Yes, a piece of poop. Strange, isn't it? Courtney finds relief in a statement that discourages and troubles me on so many levels. For starters, why, if I DO have a mole on my neck that resembles a piece of poop, has no one informed me of it? But then I wonder to myself, why is Courtney noticing this hopefully-benign piece of poop for the first time tonight? We've spent literally every day together for the past year-and-a-half. As it turns out, the mole's size and color were augmented by a shadow cast onto my neck, making it only APPEAR to be feces. In that I find some solace: at least my mole doesn't really look like a piece of poop. Yet, the troubling question remains: why, upon seeing an anomalous shape on my neck, was Courtney's first guess that it was poop? Why not chocolate pudding, or something else that may actually belong there?

So, to answer the question- what rare occasion is this that you write on your own blog- I would first request that you ask Courtney the following question: why is it, exactly, that you consider your husband of a low enough category to sit in bed with a piece of poop on his neck....