The Tormenting of Mrs. Clib

The summer before my Senior year in High School I became really good friends with a odd group of people. At it's core was Clib. Clib and I would quickly become best buds, mostly related to our mutual ability to find ANYTHING and EVERYTHING funny.

It was because of Clib I would meet Chad (his brother) and Disco (who grew up across the street from Clib and Chad). It was also Clib's idea to take the first camping trip to the Smokey Mountains that would incite a lifetime of wanderlust.

It is safe to assume my life would be totally different if I had not befriended one guy named Clib.

Considering how important he is in my life, an understandably huge impact was made upon my delicate balance when he announced he was getting married. I had always enjoyed the soon-to-be Mrs. Clib. She never got angry when we farted around her (unlike Liz). She didn't seem to mind much when we laugh manically for long stretches about different ways to have sex with a goat (or similar topics). She even seems to enjoy, and get involved, in our all night religious/political discussions, and NO one else is willing to do that.

All these great things but I still could not help having reservations about my best friend tying the knot. Would he give her access to his vault, with all my dirty secrets and peccadilloes? (Not yet.) Would she put the kibosh on our travelling ways. (Sort of, but understandably so. Would you support an artist and then fund his gallivanting around the world without you?) Would she make him dress better, therefore leaving ME as the worst dressed person we know. (Yes, she did.)

I spent all my time worrying about these issues and did not realize what we were gaining by having her around. Since they got married several years ago, we have had a enthusiastic and innocent person to torment.

A few examples of things we have done to irritate Mrs. Clib:

One time Me and Clib had made a quick beer run and on the way home decided to use frequent finger quotes (use both hands to make quotation marks) while talking to Mrs. Clib. For example:
ME: We just ran to the "store" and got a few "beers".
CLIB: Yeah, "beer". I love "beer".
ME: Let's have some "beer" and watch the "football game".
CLIB: First I want to "eat" a "hotdog".
Mrs. Clib realized something was amiss, but tried to ignore it (often the best plan with us). After about an hour or so of this (we are very dedicated to a joke), she finally responded.
Mrs. Clib: What are you guys doing?
We just laughed and laughed. She looked at us with annoyance while sighing.
Mrs. Clib: You guys are "stupid".

We also frequently tell her we are actually gay lovers and she is just around for a front. Clib does not want to tarnish his reputation in the conservative world of fine art by coming out. She REALLY hates this, especially when she is going to bed early and Clib says something like, "I hope our loud, animalistic, man-on-man lovin' doesn't keep you awake." I will also occasionally call their house, and when she answers say, "Oh God, I am soooo horny. I need you bad." Her response, "What!" Then I say, "Oh, sorry. Can I talk to Clib."

On Mrs. Clib's first, and for some reason only, attempt to go camping with Me, Chad, Disco and Clib, we were enjoying a few alcoholic beverages around the camp fire in Yellowstone, when Clib decided to turn in early. He had wrapped a long day of us giving him shit for having to take her into town for a shower, and stand in line for Diet Coke, etc.
Mrs. Clib, wanting to hang with the big dogs, decided to stay up and toss back a few more libations. Once she did decide to turn in however, we warned her that as an initiation we would have to give her the Brown Eye once she fell asleep. For a lawyer, Mrs. Clib can be pretty gullible, especially after several alcoholic beverages, so she was afraid to go to sleep. Instead, she would stay up for another hour pleading to not get the Brown Eye. Finally she gave in, demanded to be left alone, and crawled into her and Clib's tent. We would soon begin a loud and lively debate over who would get to deliver the Brown Eye, this would later digress to suspicious silence and rummaging outside her tent. When she had taken enough, she woke up Clib to complain, who got mad at her for waking him, and then yelled at us to leave her alone.

Luckily Mrs. Clib has an incredible sense of humor and a LOT of patience. It was probably bad enough that she was about to marry a starving, brilliant artist, she was also marrying a bunch of immature morons to boot.