DIVORCE, IKEA FURNITURE & MOTORCYCLES

By Lisa Harmon

This is the year I have to bite the bullet and learn to ride a motorcycle. I don't know why I have to do this, except that I don't want to be a pansy jerkface forever. Also my husband wants me to learn. He says it will boost my confidence and help with my comedy career and everything else. I can just see him beaming with pride as I take his smaller bike out for a solo ride, and filing for divorce after I drop it. It'll be OK, no one will see me crying inside my full-body cast.

Another good way to get a divorce is to buy some Ikea furniture and put it together, together. They call it a desk, I call it “Box o' divorce!” At least when you split up it'll be easy to divide the desk fifty-fifty, because that thing is still not put together!

I don't want to divorce the Super, but with men you never know. If they divorce you, you're lucky! I've been watching so much stupid television I'm convinced about ninety percent of marriages end when the husband kills the wife. And my husband has all the tools at his disposal – helmet bags (perfect fit for a human head – mine!) bungee cords (for strapping stuff to the back of the bike, like your wife's dismembered body), and of course all the chemicals and basement rooms he has access to as a Super.

But if the Super wants a divorce, he'll probably do it the biker way: loosen the screws on the backrest and take me for a ride on a bumpy road.

Any time I've ever had a fight with the Super, I've never had the gumption to get a divorce. First I get so angry I can hardly see straight, then I turn on the computer to search for “Divorce lawyer + New York City”. Then I start watching puppy videos and clicking “here for a free Red Lobster dinner for two” and before you know it, I forgot why I turned on the computer in the first place. A slow internet connection and short attention span have saved my marriage on several occasions.

But I have to admit that marrying the Super was the best thing I've ever done. I'm happier married than I ever was single. I never thought marriage was important but I'm so glad I've got someone who cares let's say, for instance, if I were to get hit by a tractor-trailer. That gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling, and its not just the Super's back hair touching my arm.

I'm so grateful to have a person that cares about me, shares with me, loves me (and my idiot cats) and accepts me the way I am, oh, and thinks that I'm hilarious.

Of all the stuff I've done over the course of my life, the only smart thing, the only thing that worked out right, was marrying the Super. I'm so happy to have one part of my life that's not frustrating (like trying to lose weight or make money as a comic). I'm happy to have one part of my life that is fun and not a struggle. I'm so glad the Super likes me. Let's face it, he could find a woman that cooks, cleans, etc. but for some strange reason, he likes having me around. For that, I'm extremely grateful.