Why do some couples make their statuses as ‘single’ after every fight? I don’t put ‘orphan’ after every argument I have with my parents. Teens these days. Praise Jesus that I am now a grown adult married woman female lady. Amen.
Now that I’m officially a married woman, I think this calls for me to exploit everyone I know for as many gifts as possible. It’s all in the name of love, right? Gotta find some way to take the Mrs. on a honeymoon.
I completely agree with this. Using people for their gifts is one of my favorite pastimes, and being a newlywed is the perfect excuse to make everyone buy you gifts and give you money. Livin’ the dream, babe. I thought a honeymoon was just when married couples are alone and have lots of sex while drinking wine, which is what we’ve already been doing. Is that not considered a honeymoon? Can we have more than one honeymoon? Let’s go to Japan. And also London. Can you talk to me in a British accent? I don’t know.
You can now call me Mamrie Helbig. Ha, just kidding. Grace Hart sounds a lot better than that mouthful. Plus every time I say it reminds me that I’ve got a wife. A permanent lady lover. A pimp ho. The old ball and chain.
Mamrie Helbig makes me think of McDonalds. Not sure why, maybe it’s because your name starts with an M. But I’d probably think of that whether your last name was Helbig or Hart. I want fries. Can we go there for our honeymoon? Also, I need to open a bakery or start studying law, because Grace Hart sounds like a bakers name or a lawyers name. Maybe a pornstars, who knows. Whatever, hey, I’ve got a wife, too. That’s the point. An unbelievable point. Wow. We’re married. We’re like the Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka of YouTube now. Truly amazing. Incredible, even. I hope no one starts thinking that you, Hannah, and I are sister wives, though. Because, y’know, Hart. Let’s just unfriend Hannah. Screw Hartbig and Hartsquared and Hartsquaredbig, all that matters is Mace. I love you, hella homo.
Well, I guess if I need to spell it out for you, the question would be that will you, Grace Anne Helbig, do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with me? But if you’re already answering it, then I think I’m already the happiest girl on the planet. I do love you, excuse me. Yes, but we live in Mametown, remember? Welcome to Mametown, where I am in charge of everything that goes on. You’ll learn to like it here. It’s sort of like prison in that way. You can even be my bitch. Sure, whatever you say, secrets. Let’s go get married. Do you think we could go to one of those drive in chapels on the strip?
My answer is yes. Definitely. Obviously. You already knew that. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, ‘til we’re old and wrinkly and all that. I love you. Let’s just go find the first chapel we can and get married. Right now. Do we need to do the whole “something borrowed, something blue” thing, though? Or does that not matter? I don’t know. I don’t care. I just want to make you my wife.
Well, hypothetically, if I was to put a ring pop on your finger before the night is over because I don’t have a real ring right now, what would your answer to that question be? Because I’d marry you right now, I’d marry you with or without a ring, babe. Of course I love you, you pimp ho. It’s fair in Mametown, that’s how it’s fair. Plus it’s because I said so, and it made sense when I was thinking about it. Well, it’s a good thing that we’re already more than friends, right? We can be big homos together.
What exactly is the question here, Mames? Whatever it is, it’s probably a yes. Definitely, even. I don’t need a big fancy ring, I just need you. And I’ve got you already, so. I’d marry you in a heartbeat, though. No hesitation or anything about it. You better love me, bitchass. It’s not fair in Graceland. Just because you said so? What about what I have to say? You know what I meant. But I guess I have the rest of our lives to hear about all of your secrets, don’t I? I’m okay with that. Just the two of us big homos, together forever.
Well, what if I was to put a ring on that finger? I mean, in the words of my favorite spoken word poet, Beyonce, if you like it, you’re supposed to put a ring on it, and I definitely more than like you. Not only because I want to be the boss of you, but… you know. I don’t know what I’m saying, never mind. I can take credit for whatever I want, you’re not the boss of me, pimp ho. I don’t know, do I know all of your secrets? I mean, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore if you knew them all. You’re my homo, homo.
Is this your way of proposing to me, Mamrie Hart? I’m not sure if I can give you an answer to that until there’s actually a ring on my finger. But I’d marry you right now if I could, if that helps at all. I mean, what? Wait, you only more than like me? Not even love? Wow, I see how it is. Oh, so you can be the boss of me but I can’t be the boss of you? How is that fair? You suck so hard. I think you know all of my secrets, I’m pretty sure. Secrets don’t make friends, babe. If I’m your homo, then you’re my homo. Homo.
Don’t be such a rebel. I think that’s exactly what it means. I’m pretty sure whatever wedding vows I’m going to say are going to include the whole ‘til death do us part, blah blah blah, oh and by the way, I’m now in charge of you for the rest of your life’. Sorry, no refunds, I’m the only Mamrie available, you’re officially stuck with me and only me. That sounds like a good plan, that way everyone wins. See, look what happens when you listen to what I tell you what to do. All of my secrets, is that so? I’m not so sure about that, but okay. I will not watch it, you homo.
Me? Pft. I’m an angel, Mames. Those are valid points, maybe. But until there is a ring on my finger, then no, you are not the boss of me. That’s okay, you’re the only Mamrie I want anyway. Hey, I came up with that one on my own. Don’t take credit for my brilliant ideas, bitchass. Are you saying I don’t know all of your secrets? I thought I did. What the fuck, I’m hurt. My whole life has been a lie. What other secrets do I not know about? I need to know all of these things before I’m Mrs. Mamrie Hart, I think that’s in the rule-book. You’re the homo, homo.
Whoa, hey. Don’t what the frick me, future Mrs. Mamrie Hart. Is that how you plan on speaking to your wife? I don’t think so, shush. I meant I won’t have time to whisper to you because my mouth would probably be too busy preoccupied doing other things than whispering in your ear. Unless you’d rather me just talk, which, by all means, I’d be willing to do. That sounds like cruel and unusual punishment, and if you do that, you can’t stop me from eating them. No way. You’re the bigger homo. Homoest. Is that a word? Yeah, if you look it up in the dictionary, it’s a picture of you.
I do what I want. Since when are you the boss of me, Spot? Just because someday I’ll be Mrs. Mamrie Hart and you’ll be stuck with me forever, does not mean that you are the boss of me. I want a refund. This is ridicuLouis Tomlinson. Oh, I mean, yeah, I guess that’s pretty cool too. I might be okay with that. But I do like listening to you talk, so this is tough. Maybe I’ll be nice and share my french fries with you while I just listen to you talk for a while, then afterwards you can put your mouth to better use. Does that sound alright with you? You don’t really have a choice either way. Hey, don’t forget that I know all of your secrets. I know about those multiple times in college. You better watch it, you raging homosexual.
I’m not really sure. I think it was one of those ‘talk dirty to me’ kind of moments, but more along the lines of ‘talk French to me’. Speaking of French, let’s eat some French fries. Also, no, I don’t have time to whisper anything to you. You’re the biggest homo I know.
Woah, hey. What the frick, man? What do you mean you don’t have time? WHY DON’T YOU HAVE TIME FOR YOUR OWN FUTURE WIFE? Just, wow. What is this? WOW. You’re the worst. I’ll cook some french fries and make you watch as I eat all of them. You won’t get any, not even a crumb. Oh, please. You’re a way bigger homo than I am. Homo.
I always skip Partition on the Beyonce album because I can’t stand to listen to the French part. It just reminds of the time a guy told me to speak French in his ear while we were making out because I told him I could speak it fluently, which was obviously a lie. So instead I just said ‘apple juice’ over and over. Apple juice is hot.
How can you speak in someone’s ear while you’re making out, though? How many pairs of lips do you have? Should I be concerned? Also, will you whisper apple juice in my ear over and over? But like, no homo.