Silly me.
For some reason, it didn't occur to me that people I don't know would be reading my rants. That fact was pointed out to me in an e-mail I received last night, that said in part:
Why the hell do you call him an electric wok? Is that supposed to mean something?
Oops. I suppose it would help if I explained that, huh? Okay. My ex-husband (yes, officially ex -- the papers finally came through yesterday) was not a fun man. Well, I guess he might have been, once upon a time, but not for a while. I couldn't be silly with him. He'd tell me it was undignified, and not befitting of our status. I always said who gives a shit about our status? This is me, and I'm a little silly once in a while.
Not him. He was about as silly as an electric Chinese wok.
And then I went on to realize that the electric wok description fit him all around. Like a wok, my ex was great for what he was built for, but absolutely useless for anything else.
So there you have it. The reason my ex-husband is known to me as an electric wok, EW for short.
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