Henry (H)wednesday

1. Henry Hearst

Over at Barb’s desk this morning, I was talking about how I was recently blown off by someone who usually traps me in long-winded conversations; it made me feel worthless and for a moment I felt the need to fight to win back that person’s affection. But..only for a second.

Barb and Nate thought this was hilarious that the tables had turned.

“Isn’t that called Nightingale Syndrome? Like when the patient falls for the nurse?” Nate asked.

“Sounds more like Stockholm Syndrome, to me,” Barb laughed.

“That’s basically how could you describe the last 13 years of my relationship with Henry,” I pointed out.

“So…should we start calling you Patty Hearst?” Barb suggested.

“NO, YOU SHOULD CALL HENRY THAT!” I blurted out, desperate to be the first one to say it.

Good thing, too, because Barb had just started to say it too, BUT I WON.

“Will he start wearing berets?” Nate asked excitedly.

YES, YES, YES. New Henry graphics coming soon!

2. Henry Robbins, Pat Travers Fan Club Pres.

“Bad to the Bone” was on last night when Henry and I were going to bed.

This is one of the casualties one must suffer when listening to the radio, hearing terrible songs. But! I enjoy having this particular radio station on in the bedroom because they play a lot of good shit from the 80s, which some people might argue is an oxymoron, but I’ll tell you what: when “Drive” by The Cars came on right after crappy George Thorogood, I got all wistful and reminiscent because the 1980s have some kind of wicked emotional hold on me that I can’t explain, because I was born in 1979 so it’s not like I have actual romantic connections to that era, but when I hear certain songs from the 80s, in my head, I am 21-years-old for an entire decade and living in NYC.

It’s like having a split personality that actually is stuck in the 80s.

Great. Another one of my psychological disorders, shared with the Internet; someone, reel me back in.

“This song is probably in my Top 10 of most hated songs,” I confessed to Henry as “Bad to the Bone” filled my head with a symphony of crashing pots and pans. I half-expected him to say that this was his wedding song, but instead he admitted that he wasn’t a fan either.

“I used to go to this pool hall called Fat Daddy’s and that song was always playing. That one and ‘Boom Boom Out Go the Lights’,” Henry mumbled into his pillow.

A rare insight into his past life! This almost never happens.

“WAS IT WHEN YOU WERE IN THE SERVICE?!” I pressed.

“No, and this is why I don’t tell you things!” Henry barked. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Then I  made the mistake of saying I had no idea what the fuck kind of song “Boom Boom Out Go the Lights” so Henry unglued his sleep-heavy lids and excitedly YouTubed it for me.

“That sounds like a really shitty song,” I sneered, because everything he likes is stupid (I’d say “Except me!” but do we know that he actually likes me?).

“BECAUSE IT’S A LIVE VERSION, OK?

! It’s all I can find.” So defensive. This is how I know that Henry is a huge Pat Travers fan. It is now my mission to find where he keeps all his old ticket stubs hidden.

We the people need to know more about this alleged Fat Daddy’s and if Henry ever tailgated before a Pat Travers show. I think this means it’s time to conduct another Henry Interview. It’s been way too long since the last one. Got questions? Fire away!

3. Housewife Henry

Henry is in the kitchen, bitching about how he has to make everyone dinner.

“Why don’t you do what other housewives do—-” I began suggesting.

“I’m not a housewife,” Henry brusquely interrupted.

“Sorry, ‘working women’,” I corrected myself, making exaggerated air quotes before going on to say that he should make a week’s worth of meals on Sunday and freeze them.

Then I quickly left the kitchen before he turned me into tomorrow’s meatloaf.

[I just dramatically annunciated the title of this post for Henry, who said, “That’s really stupid.”

HHHHHHUUUUUUU-ENRY HHHHHHHHHU—-WEDNESDAY.

Yeah, it’s stupid. I KNOW OK.]