...someone breaks your husband's heart?
My husband, Secret Agent Man, as previously posted here, works for a Contractor that carries government contracts. He is not CIA, as some people like to pretend he is. But his job still carries a lot of weight and he and all his guys have to have security clearance. S.A.M. takes great pride in hand picking his guys and hiring only the best.
One of his fairly recent hires we had high hopes for. Last summer we had a BBQ and invited his crew, along with the New Guy and New Guy's wife. They seemed really nice. They seemed to be smart and funny and not all wrapped up in some of the petty left over high school crap that some guys in their 40's are still dealing with.
Boy, were we wrong.
New Guy turned out to be Major Asshole.
Over the past month or so he has done everything he possibly can to get his immediate boss in trouble, and his boss' boss (which would be my husband) and has even gone over all their heads to the Big Boss. Apparently he is trying to actively get them all fired by saying they authorized him to do illegal stuff. He has stolen, lied and compromised security for God knows what purpose. It's all coming out in the wash now, but the Asshole has managed to really upset my husband, who is the most upright, honest guy I've ever known. He is taking it personally, which he should.
So tonight after work, S.A.M. and his best bud went out for beers and hot wings and bitching. The more he drank, the more pissed off he got. The more pissed off he got, the more he drank. Which of course just caused him to get more upset. By the time we both got home (me from work) everything was just a big mess.
Anyway, after discussing how to perforate a kidney in a dark alley (just kidding on S.A.M.'s part. I hope.) and wanting to cut off Major Asshole's testicles and shove him down his throat (my idea, because he's obviously not man enough to deserve them) I finally got hubby calmed down. He even started singing (if you can call it that), "Cinnamon Girl" of all things.
I left him to get ready for bed, which he was doing in his bathroom (the "master" bathroom) and I went in mine (I have permanently commandeered the "guest" bathroom because the "master" is so small, so beware if you ever come to visit).
At this time, Our Missy Kitty comes upstairs because she's good at giving sympathy in the form of purrs and ankle rubs. S.A.M. starts talking to her and singing "Cinnamon Girl" to her and then I hear this:
"What Missy? You saw Neil Young in concert in Moosejaw in 1982? Really?"
"...and you have the tshirt to prove it? Wow!"
I think he's going to be just fine.