It finally happened.
After nearly fourteen years of marital bliss, Husbandrinka and I ran out of things to fight about. I realized this last week when he and I scraped the bottom of the fighting barrel and argued over who had the more exciting day in terms of the subway ride.
So I’m going to shoehorn our two stories into a I’m Right, You’re Wrong feature, disguising whose story is which and letting you weigh in.
No pressure. My marriage is at stake, but now that same-sex marriage is legal in New York, I’m sure I’ll get remarried in no time.
Disagreement: Who has the better subway story?
Disagreers: Marinka and Husbandrinka
Position One: I was standing in the subway car, reading the newspaper. I turned the page and the woman who was sitting down in front of me, said, “Please stop turning the pages, it’s hurting my eyes.” I had no idea what she was talking about, so I asked if I’d touched her. And she said, “no, you didn’t touch me, but the pages turning is distracting.”
Position Two: I saw Piccasso on the subway. And I have photographic evidence.
So. Which is the better story: crazy subway lady or a Picasso sighting?