Saturday, February 12, 2011

If you marry for money, you'll earn every penny of it

I used to work as an advertising rep in Dallas for a business newspaper.  This begs the question, "Can a person sell advertising at a publication without reading a single article?  The answer is Yes.  Yes they can.   My catagories were hotels, restaurants and retail.  It was so fun.

I was having a breakfast meeting at this fancy hotel with their advertising director one day (she was this no nonsense, been around the block, strong Texan woman) with my best friend who was my "boss" and the hotel advertising assistant.  I used to take we'll call her "Angela" with me to almost every appointment so she could "weigh in" on important issues and then we could go shopping and have lunch.  ANYWAY, this woman's assistant was yammering on how she wanted to get married and men who looked good on paper and yada yada yada.  The hotel advertising director stopped her short (thank God) with one long swoop of her perfectly manicured hand and said, "Honey, if you marry for money, you'll earn EVERY penny of it".  Sooooo prophetic.  I could have kissed her on the mouth.  My friend/boss "Angela" and I exchanged that "Oh my God I can't wait to get in the car and talk about this" glance as we took a long sip of our outrageously expensive coffee.  Side note:  hotel coffee is the best coffee in the entire world.  That hotel was on the way to my office in the morning and I used to fantasize about stopping on the way and getting a take out coffee.

Which brings me to the trip my husband and I took to the Puerto Rico. Rounding the third turn of my pregnancy, I was lying in bed with my husband and I was just DONE with being pregnant.  I get impossibly FAT when I am pregnant and I was miserable with about two months to go.  We knew that this was going to be our last baby and I turned to him and suggested that we go on vacation after the baby was born to "you know, celebrate the birth of our last child without her/him".

He snatched up the laptop to make reservations and said "When do you want to go?  You call your parents.  Make sure you tell them how bad you are feeling so you can guilt them into watching a newborn."  There is NOTHING my husband enjoys more than vacation without the kids.  It is the only time in his life when he can sit around and do nothing and ask for things (they actually bring them to him) without getting yelled at.

Four months after my last child was born we were in San Juan.  Classic.  So one night after dinner we are sitting at the Lobby bar laughing about how I should be breastfeeding instead of drinking bourbon when the Tazmanian devil and her entourage burst into the hotel. There is all of this commotion and people are laughing and this women hurls herself up to the bar and screams, "It's my thirtieth birthday weekend and my FIANCE is paying for everything and we just got off the plane and immediately hit the strip clubs here and I need a DRANK."

She is right next to me and she turns to me and starts interrogating me in her loud piercing voice while simultaneously telling me her life story.  Her FIANCE is 59 years old.  (My husband insists to this day that he was 49, but I am right.)  He is the CFO for a chain of exotic dancing establishments littered throughout the South.  She has never been married, has a three-year-old boy with her ex that was her first love, and she was "rescued" by her "baby" when he noticed her outstanding "hostessing skills" at one of his "restaurants".  Right.

My husband is DELIGHTED and he is also becoming fast friends with Rescue Baby.  The Tazmanian Devil is totally hot.  She has a perfect, young body that I decided was real,  with zero signs of any childbirth strains.  Apparently, there is a Puerto Rican Rodeo Drive that has brought her here and she is positively enamored with Louis Vuitton.  "I need a DRANK.  I want something REALLY expensive, baby!" she croons.  The bartender who had previously been chatting us up, drops us like a hot potato and turns his attentions toward her.

"Get some Louis VII, hon."  Rescue Baby says.  The bar is getting crowded now.
"Oh yes!" Taz squeals as she claps her hands with delight.
"What's Louis VII?" I ask.
"You don't know what Louie is?" she exclaims, "it's the most expensive liquor you can buy!"
"It is $125 a shot," the bartender announces.
"Ewwwwwww" Taz squeels and claps again.
"I always keep a bottle of it in each of my five houses" Rescue Baby says, "they are $1500 a piece and the bottle is hand blown and etched with platinum." or something like that.  "You want one?  Bartender, get her a shot of Louie, too!"  My husband is smiling now.
"Oh no no no no no no no"  I was NOT going to enter into this pissing contest where we are buying each other shots of $125 liquor.  Do you know what $125 buys at TJ Maxx?  We are not in the same tax bracket.  Besides I know how this works.  One minute I am gulping down Louie and the next I have lost my kids and am "waitressing" at one of his "restaurants" (where there is buffet, no less).

OK I am going to try to paint for you a mental picture of what happened next.  The bartender sets the crown-shaped bottle on the packed bar where everyone is gathered around watching.  My husband and I have a front row seat.  Taz jumps up on the bar which is lit like a runway, does the snake with her body on top of the bar where she is perpendicular to the bottle, lifts her head up, and as she is face to face with the crown delivers the line, "HELLLLLOOO BEEEEEAAACCCHHHH." She shoots the liquor as Rescue Baby shouts, "Ya sip it, Hon!" and orders another shot.  " Louie meet Louie! "she screams as she introduces her purse to the bottle of liquor.  She throws back her head and laughs. 

Then she is on us again.  "What are y'all doin' tomorrow?"
Here we go.  I was NOT going to spend my entire vacation enduring this shit.
"Nothing," my husband replies, "what are you all doing?"
I shot him "the look".  We did SO have plans.  We were planning on giving everyone at the pool a nickname like we always do on vacation.
"We had better go." I said, shooting daggers. 
And before I knew what was happening my husband turns to Taz and sputters, "You have a really nice smile."

Now, I know that man better than he knows himself and the subtext of that statement was "You have incredibly large young boobs." I was seething.  If I were a cartoon at that moment, I would have turned into a thermometer where the mercury reached the top, broke through the surface and spewed out.  I couldn't take it anymore so I grabbed Taz's arm and hissed, "Let me tell you something, honey, if you marry for money - you will EARN EVERY PENNY OF IT!"  Tears sprang into her eyes.  I had gotten to her and instead of feeling triumphant, I felt awful.

Look I am not trying to turn this into some sort of Hate blog, quite the contrary.  In my defense, Taz embodied the two things I abhor the most - sugardaddy worship and strip clubs.  I am not normally judgemental but I have a hard time vacationing with someone who capitalizes off of the desperation of women when I am raising three girls, not to mention that I am a girl.  So this is what is going on in my mind as they carry on and then my husband starts admiring her teeth.

They avoided us the rest of the trip.  From time to time I wonder if she ever married him.  I wonder if he ever went to jail. (There was some sort of impending litigation.)  I wonder if his ex-wife-turned- lesbian got a huge settlement.  So many questions.  So little time...well, I had better wrap this up.  I promised my oldest we would go to pole dancing class today.

If you have the chance to go to San Juan, Puerto Rico - go!  I loved the culture and the town is adorable.  There are a ton of restaurants, galleries and shops. The beach and ocean are spectacular.  It is a relatively short trip.  We stayed at the Ritz Carlton there which we liked because it had the "all inclusive" option and we are very big on that. The Hotel San Juan is also really nice.  They have a famous bar and pool.

P.S. My friend, we'll call her "Jen", is the closest thing I have to a boss.  She said that I can start taking off Sundays and if I continue to impress her with my posts, she'll entertain the thought of Saturdays off too.  I know I made a bogus commitment to you, but who cares?  (I'll add on 52 posts, ok?) 



  1. Yes dear, I granted Sunday's off but your contract reads:
    “If signee believes in honoring the Sabbath, she has the right to do so, but signee must offer a replacement post the following week. 7 posts per week are expected."

  2. Is it ironic that this entry is titled "If you marry for money, you'll earn every penny of it" over a pic of Brad with Chuck or just coincidental? Or was it on purpose?

  3. "If you marry for money, you'll earn every penny....UNLESS you hire a good lawyer and get divorced!"