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Posts Tagged ‘box ted’

I love my husband. I truly do. All this time I thought he didn’t do much about the house but now that he’s gone away on his [blah blah sex tour… blah blah blah], I’ve realised he does do quite a lot.

For one thing, he generates a lot of laundry and dishes.

Also, he can DE-declutter a freshly-decluttered surface in seconds flat simply by emptying his pockets. It’s like magic but really really annoying.

He also is very good at staying up just a little later than me and waiting until I’ve just gone to sleep before coming to bed, taking care to knock a teetering pile of CD cases onto the floor and bang his knee on the bed-end to ensure I’ve been completely woken up.

But seriously, I have missed him and his contribution to the household – and not just the piles of glittering gold coins he leaves in his wake that save me from ever having to use an ATM and keep me in coffee and cake.

The fact is I’ve been doing *everything* in his absence. Every dish, every item of clothing, every tooth in each child’s head is only clean thanks to my hard efforts and mine alone. And I’ve helped my mood considerably by muttering “Do I have to do EVERYTHING around here??” as I’ve done it. God knows how single parents cope. They must be saints or on valium. Or both.

Anyway, in the spirit of doing EVERYTHING, I’ve done some other things.

Firstly, I’ve posted a poëm that I wrote especially for my other blog site Poëgatory while completely drunk (see my post “Poëgatory” for an account of how-the-hell this site came into being and “O Geisha Moon” for the poëm itself). Yes, it’s come to that. I mean, what is wrong with you people? Don’t you want to relive the agony and humiliation of adolescence by sending in your highschool poetry for me to publish on the internet? Honestly.

Secondly, I’ve had to post photos of my own domestic squalor in a Special Autumn Edition of the Gallery of Godlessness because the only person who has responded to my repeated calls for contributions (by “repeated” here I mean “two”) was the mysterious NotYourMother. And even then she sent me a photo of a mess that she herself had no part in creating. Sheesh.

Finally, I drew my own goddamn Box Ted cartoon and published it on my so-called husband’s so-called blog. I mean, I’ve been railing at him for months about updating the thing because abandoned blogs make me feel really sad and lonely (in the same way DVD menus make my husband feel sad and lonely). I’m sure I’ve crossed some boundaries there by publishing my own content on another person’s blog, but really: Whoopy Fucking Shit.

So there you go. I’ve done it all. ALL OF IT. Oh, except leave comments on this post. Surely I don’t need to do that too… or do I?

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COMING SOON: Separate digs for Box Ted at http://boxted.wordpress.com

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boxtediv

Click on image to see enlarged version. Go on. You know you want to see that shoddy handwriting up close & personal-like.

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People often say to me “Oooh, NDM, your husband is so funny with his Box Ted ways…” and I say “Yes. Yes, he is.” and secretly think to myself “Stupid Box Ted.”

So the other morning, as my husband was scanning in Episode III for publication, I decided to draw my own cartoon. And this is what I drew:

poxyted

And while I was doing that, my husband hit the computer big time and wrote his own NDM blog post. Here it is:

Ooh, a funny thing happened to me on the way to writing this blog today. I was on the bus with four children vomiting in my handbag when I thought to myself, “I know, I’ll write my own Box Ted cartoon. After all, it’s just a stupid box, and all that stuff Ted says about the deep structures behind the text is just a load of hooey. Now I’ll start getting invited to those parties that Ted has been staying out at all night.”

 Well, when I got home I went straight to my desk Without Talking to Ted, who was standing in the hall looking all pathetic and self-indulgent, and after I’d scraped the baby poo off the keyboard I started playing with some ideas. I thought, if I write the words first, it’ll be easy to draw in the boxes. Boy did I Get That Wrong! Here are my words, though I’m afraid those clever box drawings are, frankly, beyond me!

 1) It’s tough being a Cupboard!

2) But it’s even tougher being a Mother!

3) (This square will be empty, but with a picture of Box Ted making cupcakes)

4) But the hardest thing of all must be to be a Father-Artiste

I know what you’re all thinking… My handwriting is much neater than his, right? Go on, you can say it: it may even be neater than his typing. 

Yeah, yeah, okay. You’re not thinking that at all (Unfortunately. Because if this was a competition about handwriting, I’d so totally whup his cardboard ass). You’re thinking that I should just get over it and myself. You’re thinking tomorrow is another Box Ted Day. You’re thinking blah blah blah, NDM. 

Yeah, yeah. Okay.

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11april2009

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I think I know now what it must have been like for Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre. Simone would have been plugging away at an early draft of “The Second Sex” and Jean-Paul would have been muttering loudly in the kitchen something about existentialism being a humanism. And she would have got really annoyed and told him to go make himself useful in the shed. 

It’s just the same in our home these days. Just as I have been claiming “Blogging Time” on the weekends, my husband is now claiming “Box Ted Time”. He walks around with a notebook all day, chuckling to himself, scribbling things down, looking askance at cardboard packaging for inspiration. 

For the record, I’ve tried to be nice and supportive about it. I kindly offered my husband a slice of the NDM Pie by giving him a weekend edition slot for his Box Ted cartoons. 

“I can’t believe you’re going to make people wait so long between Box Teds,” was his immediate response. 

“Hey, whose blog is this?” I asked. “What’s the main course on the menu, huh? Who are people really coming to see? Huh? Huh? You’re the ‘Joanie loves Chachi’ to my ‘Happy Days’. You’re the Fonz’s adopted son in the series finale and I’m the Fonz. BEFORE the leather-jacket-on-water-skis episode. BEFORE!”

“You’re right,” my husband replied after some thought and a little time for me to calm down. “A Box Ted will last people a week. Whereas mere words…”

And then he made a gesture as if brushing away so much meaningless fluff…

The next day after this little exchange of words, I made the mistake of telling him someone actually came to my blog via the search terms “ted talking cupboard”. And worse still, I shared with him the blog stats from our surprise weekend post (“Box Ted Rides Again“). Turns out there were 52 hits within an hour of it being posted but ONLY BECAUSE “alphainventions” picked the post up in its tractor beam for a while and shoved it in front of a whole lot of Unwilling Eyes. Not the same as my dedicated readership-of-three lovingly typing in my URL and clicking REFRESH all day. Not. The. Same. 

“Pah!” said my husband. “Let the numbers speak for themselves!” 

“Hey, I’ve been thinking…” I said, trying to keep it together. “Why don’t you just get your own blog?” 

“Oh, I haven’t got time to do all the administration and deal with all that technical back-end stuff,” he said, dismissively. “I’m an Artist, you know…”

“You draw squares!” I exclaimed. “Squares! And… and…  your handwriting is nowhere as neat as mine!” 

“But those simple squares say so much to so many people,” he replied. “And True Art is not about being neat, it’s about expression…” 

And he brushed away a tear from his eye. 

“Listen,” I stormed. “The next time you do a Box Ted Cartoon, can you please make it that Box Ted’s head has grown so incredibly massive that it’s too big for the frame! I made you and I can unmake you!”

Okay, so perhaps de Beauvoir and Sartre’s domestics were a little different from that. For one thing, they would have been in French. And arguably, they were both working on things far more historically significant than inside-out-tshirt designs and drawings of a talking cupboard. And most certainly, I can’t see myself ever getting a passing mention in a Lloyd Cole song like old Simone, no matter how many votes for Hottest Mommy Blogger in the Blogger’s Choice 09 awards I get (which so far is 12. Can’t help notice that nobody’s voting for Ted, huh. HUH?)

In any case, all pettiness aside, The NDM is proud to announce that every weekend a new Box Ted will be posted for your viewing pleasure. Just nobody go repeatedly clicking on REFRESH okay? I mean, I’ve got to live with the guy.

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boxted_3

From the Desk of My So-Called Husband

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