Three Februaries ago, Mrs. G. watched a marathon session of HBO's Big Love and wondered if the premise of this show would work if the roles were reversed. Mrs. G. wondered if viewers and critics would respond as enthusiastically to a show about one woman with three husbands. A show, for instance, called...
The world seemed ready for a show about Mrs. G and the three hot husbands who serve her every need. HBO, call her.
In the last episode, Mrs. G. and her husbands weathered the recession, moved into a Seattle gated community, fought bitterly with their intolerant neighbors and, finally, relocated to Manhattan for religious freedom and decent bagels.
They found a nice rent controlled apartment across the street from Central Park and good schools for the kids. George took over kitchen. Matt was in charge of animals and housework and Brad...now that's a story.
Brad had briefly left the marriage before the big move but eventually showed up in Manhattan with his newfound love, a quiet woman named Annalina. Mrs. G, not really one to share, allowed Annalina to stay for dinner because it didn't take her long to realize Annalina was one of those human dolls, you know, the kind of dolls created for adults. Mrs. G. was initially repulsed by the idea of sharing her husband and home with a human doll but then Brad explained that Annalina was produced in Pennsylvania, the homestate of Rick Santorum and, therefore, was manufactured without a vagina or a working mouth, two of Santorum's biggest fears. Brad explained that while he and Annalina's love was passionate it was mainly cerebral. When you have three husbands and assorted household help, you must be willing to roll with the punches, fudge the rules, so Mrs. G. agreed Annalina could join the family if Brad agreed to talk to a therapist, at least explore his issues with, well, dolls. For your own protection Mrs. G. recommends you avoid googling "human dolls" and...
just rent the movie Lars and the Real Girl, Annalina's first acting role.
Mrs. G. immediately sought the help of a therapist. Dr. Byrne explained that the extent of Brad's mental breakdown was so profound and troubling, he would need to move in to offer round-the-clock therapy. Brad refused to talk to Dr. Byrne or deal with his affair of the only one beating heart.
He moved out again.
Mrs. G. was forced to hire one manny selling oranges on the side of the road, mate.
And another one just jogging by. She checked their references.
Annalina and Dr. Byrne stayed. They had daily therapy sessions for ten weeks. "Any day now." Dr. Byrne said each time Mrs. G. wrote him a check. "We're really making progress. Therapy isn't an exact science."
Mrs. G. nodded and then sent him out for the new Enya cd. She called a locksmith because as luck would have it, changing locks is an exact science.
Annalina took it in stride. And despite being rather fond of the woman, Mrs. G. gave Brad an ultimatum. She told him to move back and help take care of his seven kids or she would throw Annalina in the recycling bin. Brad agreed to come home on one condition: no therapy. Mrs. G. agreed. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. I sent him out for the new Enya cd and she hasn't released anything since 2009." Crisis averted.
Until Matt came home and told Mrs. G. he had bought a dilapidated zoo in California. "I don't have time for this shit!" Mrs. G. screamed. "You don't know anything about exotic animals, Matt!"
"BUT IT'S ON MY BUCKET LIST!" He screamed over and over and over again. "DID YOU HEAR ME? MY BUCKET LIST!"
Mrs. G. nodded and asked him to go out and pick up some Thai food. She changed the locks while he was gone.
"A house divided against itself is directly related to bucket lists! Skydiving and digging up ancient artifacts in Egypt on my dime are out of the question. Why can't you just do all this shit after you're dead? In, you know, HEAVEN!" Mrs. G. yelled at Matt as he pounded on the door.
"Never tell me the sky is too high when there are footprints on the moon," he yelled back.
"There is a lion named Montecore in the backseat."
"Are you telling me you bought a lion named Montecore?"
"Does he have stripes?"
The stress of trying to hold her family together was taking it's toll on Mrs. G's health. George insisted she go in for a physical.
The first doctor she went to suggested Mrs. G, due to unexplained nausea and stomach pain, should get a colonoscopy and buy a neti pot. He was a little too enthusiastic about examining the entire length of her colon. "Especially the flora and fauna!" he said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. When Mrs. G. mentioned her reservations about anyone getting too close to her butt, he laughed it off. "My wife and I have learned to appreciate the smells of our bodies, the sharp and the musky."
"How nice for you both," Mrs. G. sputtered. "I appreciate your time, Dr. Oz, but my phobia is real and documented. It's called stayawayfrommyanusiosis, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to seek a second opinion. And since we're being honest about difficult subjects, I have to tell you my friend Mary Alice calls you 'Free Willy' because you obviously don't wear underpants under your scrubs. I need a more fortified barrier between me and my doctor."
Mrs. G. went home and told George what Dr. Oz. advised. He rubbed her feet for the four hours it took for her butt cheeks to unclench. "Don't fret, my love, I'll make you an appointment with a guy I think you'll like, George said sweetly.
"Cacao!" Mrs. G. screamed as she ran out of his office.
When George found out Mrs. G. had made an appointment with Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, he had an epiphany.
He had to come clean about his past.