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Honey, please
come home from work already. I realize your archeological
dig is very important but dinner has been waiting at the table
for three hours and I'm wearing that sexy new dress I bought
with the gift certificate you gave me for our anniversary. I'm
getting really tired of this. I really need you to stop studying
cavemen and start studying me!
Remember back when we were first married? Remember how romantic
you were and how we take long walks on the beach after a night
on the town? Well, that hasn't happened in like, forever.
And I'm NOT happy about it.
What the hell is so great about some pile of old bones anyway?
Does it really matter if you just found the thorax of some
Neanderthal Man? NO. It doesn't matter. Those bones will still
be there next week but Olivia's piano recital will be over.
You know, sometimes I think you love those cavemen more than
me.
At first, I thought it was cute that you would come home
at three in the morning covered in dirt and smelling like
some weird lab glue. I thought, wow, here's a man that's totally
committed to studying cavemen. But now I think that you love
cavemen more than me.
Maybe you should just marry them. You ever think of that?
Yeah, you should marry a goddamn bag of 10,000 year old bones.
Maybe the 10,000 year old bones will be more appreciative
of your schedule. Maybe you will actually spend time cuddling
and having sex with them, huh? Maybe they will sit next to
you and smile at all those boring conferences where all of
you cavemen-studying people get together each year at the
Ramada. That would be great! Maybe while you're married to
the 10,000 year old bag of bones you might find an 11,000
year old bag of bones! Then you can have a three-way!
God forbid you actually spend some time at home with me and
the kids. Maybe you might actually enjoy digging up the weeds
in OUR backyard. You might find a fucking dinosaur! Or a woolly
mammoth!. Or a cavegirl that looks just like Raquel Welch
in that old movie you keep renting again and again from Netflix.
Is that what you want? A million year old cavegirl with big
tits wearing a loincloth??
Fine, see if I care. I hope you find her. I hope you can
extract some DNA and clone her. But I have news for you, buddy.
Even some dumb cavegirl like Raquel Welch wouldn't like being
married to someone that spent all his time in a lab or sifting
through a pile of dirt. A cavegirl would want someone to spend
time with them and buy them flowers and take them on actual
dates. She wouldn't be satisfied just sitting around the dinner
table waiting for her husband to get home so he can just fall
asleep so he can get to work early in the morning to study
more cavemen.
When we first met, you told me you were gonna be like Harrison
Ford in "Raiders of the Lost Ark." Well, call me
crazy but Harrison Ford was romantic and sexy and managed
to spend time with a chick in all three of those movies. So
you better just take some advice from him and learn how to
do both. You are gonna need to start balancing your caveman-studying
life and my needs -- or else.
So there you go. All I'm asking is that you stop spending
all your time studying cavemen and start studying me. Or else
I'm gonna go find Harrison Ford and fuck his brains out. I
mean it.
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