I’m going to tell you a story about last night.

Some of you know that Bill and I have both spent an awful lot of time involved with the Monday Night Comedy Show. He performs there every few weeks or so, and has about 75 performances there tucked under his belt (the only one with more performances is P Bau, with 76. He got an award. It was a big deal). I’ve been going to, performing at, and helping with the MNCS since show #8. Bill and I did a lot of our dating at MNCS, and when Bill asked me to marry him, the first thing we did was set a date. The second thing we did was ask the host of MNCS to officiate our wedding.

Several years ago, when the show was just starting out and numbers were low, I found myself in a meeting where talk of shutting down the show occurred. It was about that time of that meeting that I made the MNCS logo (I saw the need for a little marketing and branding, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to help out friends in need).

I get royalties in free shows and a neat little Viking pin. Worth it.

The kids decided not to shut the show down, and last night, the show celebrated 6 years of near weekly performances.

As happens to me frequently, I was double booked, but after an awesome rehearsal, I went to the MNCS anniversary show and caught the last half. If you were there, you know how awesome it was. If you weren’t, there’s no way I can describe it.

But the takeaway from this is that my husband, who only drinks about once a month or so, was served by a bartender of legend, who pours the stiffest drinks this side of the Mississippi. So my husband was DRUNK. Repeating the same thing 50 times drunk. Rambling about the same thing, trying to make a point he made 5 minutes ago but doesn’t feel like he made sufficiently yet. Telling me secrets that weren’t secrets, dropping things, waking the boy while being super loud while trying to be quiet.

He was really fucking drunk, you guys.

I’m the sober cab, and I get him in the car, and drive towards home. And he’s rambling over and over about how awesome his coworkers are, and other such ramblings. I pull up to our house about 11pm. Our next door neighbor is on his front sidewalk, with ropes hanging off his boulevard tree, tying something to the end of it.

This calls for further investigation.

So we ask what’s up, and the guy says that his buddy is in the tree, getting rid of some squirrels that have started stealing their insulation. Not killing them, but knocking down their houses so that they realize it’s an unsafe place and move on.

I wonder if their homeowners insurance covers act of man, or will they have to fund their new homes out of pocket?

Anyway, I look up, and sure enough, there’s a guy in the tree, with safety ropes and harnesses and everything. and he’s pulling up the thing that was tied to the rope up to him. “Say- what is that tied to the rope?”

Beer. The guy in the tree wanted a beer, and my neighbor sent one up to him with his own safety ropes.

And it’s at this point Bill says “so you mean there’s beer in that tree?” And then decides he’s going to climb the tree to get some beer. My neighbor is encouraging this, and I try to talk him away, and he’s trying to decide how he’s getting up that tree with it’s lowest branches 15 feet off the ground. 5 minutes later, he realizes that there are ropes.

He’s becoming serious. and he is far too drunk. So I whip out the ultimatum that says I’m serious… I mean, I’d never follow through on it, but some couples have key phrases to let the other one know they’re serious. “If you try to climb that tree, you are never getting laid again.”

And then my husband says a thing that in my mind, totally sums up him, his ability to cut through bullshit, and get to the point of the matter. That he can assess with such ease, even while drunk as fuck, the exact situation, prioritize his desired outcome, and communicate effectively his intent and wishes in a deliberate and concise manner.

“Woman, I’m pretty sure I can get a slut like you to have sex with me again, but that is TREE BEER.”

Bill did not climb the tree last night. Instead, he set up the hookah, flipped off a police officer while he wasn’t looking, told me secrets I already knew, and made cold hot dogs with mayo even though we have a working microwave. But even though he didn’t climb that tree, I feel he will always have tree beer in his heart.