Playing Pretend

Hey guys,

My world has been shattered. I've been trying to keep this to myself, but cannot any longer. Flattery and words of encouragement would be appreciated. (overdramatic much?)

A few weeks ago Matt and I got to hang out with mah gurls from high school and their respective beaus. Talk about a good time! I was in the zone, ya know? I was cracking the jokes and coming up with witty anecdotes and, really, just pleasing the crowd.
Code ENTERTAIN.
Watch out world, here comes Cami!
And everyone was eating it up!
Well, everyone except for that stinky husband of mine. He was shutting my down hardcore. No gut-wrenching cackles from him, instead, he sat with a smug smile on that little handsome face of his. Fun. Hater.

As we were driving home I told him that stealing my thunder is NOT ALLOWED. No raining on this girl's entertaining parade. None of this, "I never said that" or "that's not how it happened" business. I was the storyteller and therefore am allowed the right to embellish things as I please, right? Wrong, apparently.

Our conversation went a little like this:
"Babe, you can't be shuttin' me down in front of my friends like that! You have to at least pretend that you think I'm funny like [insert reference of one of my friends and her boyfriend]."

His reply:
"I do think you're funny. He's just trying to marry her."

Well, I guess that clears things up then. Boys only think girls are funny until that ring is on their finger.
So much for my moonlighting gig as a stand up
comedian.

Soberly yours,
Cami

P.S. Don't let this story fool you. Matt really does think I'm hilarious at least 92% of the time. I mean, who am I kidding, I'm pretty much Billy Crystal in a dress!