My husband got gonorrhea. From the neighbor.

At least, that’s what he told me.  In excited tones, no less.  Waving his arms about and grinning like a lunatic.

“She’s giving me her gonorrhea!”


*blink blink blink*

You can understand, I’m sure, why any sort of verbal response would be beyond my abilities given this shocking bit of information from my spouse.  Especially in the face of his obvious excitement.


The fact that he was jumping for joy clued me in to the fact that he was definitely not talking about venereal diseases.  So I discarded my When did you decide to fuck the neighbor? line of thinking and focused instead on what I know of mi esposo fabuloso:

  1. He pronounces things wrong.  All the time.  It’s a thing.
  2. He’s mad in love with all things plant-y.  If it has stems or stalks or leaves or flowers or might possibly grow out of the ground, he digs it.
  3. He’s not remotely interested in having sexual relations with the neighbor.  And even if he was, that’d just be too damn bad.  Because, rules.

So, being the quick-witted person that I am, I combined some rapid thinking with my rapid blinking and asked, “So…  This gonorrhea…  Where are you gonna put it?”  (Heh.  Sounds a bit kinky.)  “It’s a plant, right?”

Ding-ding-ding!  Feve gets it in one.


He put it here:


. . . which means the cypress has to be moved.

And that fence is three feet high, yo.
(And Smotch needs to mow.)


I told him I think we should name it.  ‘Gunnera’ would be too literal.  I mean, that’s what it is.  And ‘Gunner’ just won’t do.

Not ‘Gonorrhea’ either.  As fun as it might be to tell people I now have gonorrhea, it might also prove to be a bit…  Awkward.

“Hi mom, just wanted to tell you about my newest acquisition.  Gonorrhea!  Yeah, it’s AMAZING.  It’s grown exponentially in just days.”

I’m sure you can see the problem there.

I suggested we call it ‘Rumpelstiltskin’.  (Though ‘Velociraptor’ has possibilities.  It *is* a bit prehistoric-looking.)

Hubs suggested we wait a few days to make sure we don’t have to call it ‘Dead Plant’.  (Apparently they are a bit finicky and don’t care much for being transplanted.)  Then, if it survives, we can name it something reasonable.  Like ‘Otis’.  (On this, we shall agree to disagree.  Otis is a guy who repossesses cars.  I know this, because I knew an Otis in high school.  And I’m pretty sure that’s what he does these days.  When he’s not skipping bail.  THERE WILL BE NO OTIS-ing IN MY YARD!)

A n y w a y

This is my new spread-y leafy…bushy…thing.  (Heh.  Oh, the places we could go…)

What would you name it, hmmm?

20 thoughts on “My husband got gonorrhea. From the neighbor.

  1. Dawn D

    Hahaha! That’s a good one!

    No clue what to call it. I don’t usually call my plants anything, tend to kill them too fast for it to be worth my while :-/

  2. El Jefe

    The question is… did you decide to let him keep mispronouncing it so that he would be retelling everyone that he got gonorrhoea from your neighbor? Or did you correct him? LOL

  3. Basdenleco

    Waking up early to a brisk Autumn morning and being half a sleep was jolted into consciousness upon reading your muses on a small cellular screen.
    The resultant raucous hilarity or was it hysterical relief awoke the resident Kookaburra clans in the garden Grey Spotted Gums who chimed in in competition.
    Nice one Feve.
    And I get your husband as I suffer from the same quirk.

  4. Barry K Rosen

    Hilarious. Laughed myself into a coughing fit.

    The plant might like an ornithological name. The leaves on the left look like a spread of droopy tail feathers; the leaves on the right look like a raised head and beak. A horny male bird is strutting on a lek. A sage grouse has erect tail feathers, but there is probably somebody somewhere with a display of tail feathers like the droopy fluffy wing feathers of an ostrich.

    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      Good call! Perhaps it should be Emu-saurus. Or Dodo. 😛

      The jury’s still out on its viability. The stalks are maintaining their rigidity, but the droopy tailfeathers are wilting faster than Victorian debutantes in a fainting contest.

      1. Barry K Rosen

        Come to think of it, some roosters look a lot like the plant. So it could be called “The Green Rooster” if it is viable. Sorry to hear about the wilting, which is indeed best confined to Victorian debutantes.
        Barry K Rosen recently posted…Lion’s ToothMy Profile

  5. Tom C.

    I first met my wife, with her untamed Hungarian accent, in a library where she brought her son to get some books on whores, because, as she explained cheerfully, ‘he loves the whores.’ It took me a moment to figure it out and find some books on horses for the lad.


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