I'm off today to celebrate my ten year anniversary with my wife, whose name escapes me at the moment. I am not saying where we are going because it is so exclusive and luxe that it doesn't even have a name, unless you happen to be one of the elite few who have heard of a little outpost called "Boston." Yes, we're off to Boston for a little R&R. It was a toss-up between Boston and Paris. Paris is lovely and romantic, but in this election season we decided to vote American! So we chose Boston, which is not nearly as lovely nor romantic. But, and this was decisive in our decision-making process, we can afford it. Goodbye to the days when we used to rack up thirty or forty thousand dollars a night in room service bills and spa treatments. So long to the private plane, the yacht, the hovercraft, and jet pack. See you later, flying car - we used to love you but now it's time to part ways. No, for our tenth, we're taking the Greyhound to Beantown. Our hotel: two better than a Motel 6. We're staying at a Super 8. We're brown bagging breakfast and lunch, but dinner will be a splurge: if you happen to see us at Denny's, come say hello.
Yes, times are tough with the Blacks, and not just because Comedy Central is dithering on whether or not to pick up our pilot, "Michael and Michael Have Issues," but also because I very foolishly decided to plow all of our savings into AIG stock about six months ago. Stupid, stupid, stupid. On the plus side, when we do get divorced (I give it six months), there will be very few assets to split up, aside from the children (and we all know I don't want them), so the divorce should be relatively easy. Regarding our marriage, my only goal is to last longer than David Duchovny and Tea Leoni. They made it to eleven. If I can beat them, I'll be satisfied. People ask me all the time what the secret is to a successful marriage. I compare a marriage to running a marathon. There are many times during the course of a marathon when you feel like you can't possibly go another step, when you feel as though you would rather die than continue running. When those moments come, just tell your body "one more step." Just one more step, and then when that step comes, no matter how excrutiating, no matter how much that tiny step makes you want to vomit, tell yourself, "Just one more step." And then you keep doing that until one of you dies. That's the secret.
So yes, we're off to "celebrate." In the end, what that probably means is that I will drop her off at the motel and then head over to Foxwoods for a few days. They've got excellent bus service from the casino, and she can find the bus station on her own just fine. Ten years is a long time to be married to somebody, but on the bright side, at this point I'm pretty sure we're both pretty much HIV negative. That's something, anyway.