Sex, Drugs and Chick Corea

So my husband and I have officially reached adulthood. We are very proud and have decided to mark the occasion by getting life insurance.

I raced home from work on Friday to meet the nurse who was coming over to take our ‘vitals’ for the underwriting process, and called my husband to remind him of the appointment.

Me: Don’t forget the nurse is coming at six. Oh, and drink lots of water because she’s gonna want you to pee in a cup.
Husband: Huh? Um, okay.

We hang up.

Two seconds later my phone rings.

Husband: You never told me were going to have to pee in a cup.
Me: So. What’s the big deal?
Husband: Remember how I went to that Chick Corea concert last weekend?
Me: Are you serious? How much?
Husband: Only like three hits. It wasn’t mine.
Me: I’m aware that it wasn’t yours. I live with you. Remember?
Husband: So should I cancel with the nurse? Or drink some vinegar?
Me: Vinegar? Seriously?
Husband: Why didn’t you tell me we’d have to pee in a cup?
Me: I would have if you had informed me you were still 18.
Husband: They’re going to see it in the test and they’re going to think I’m wreckless and an unsuitable candidate for life insurance, aren’t they?
Me: Not when you tell them it was a CHICK COREA concert. When they learn that tid-bit, they’ll probably give us a discount.

If you don’t believe me, please push play on the above video for a sneak peak at my husband's wild and crazy Saturday foray.

I have had a lot of fun at my husband’s expense over the weekend.

And now that I’ve had my fun, I’ll tell him, THE REST OF THE STORY, in its entirety, here in this blog, where he can not get his hands around my neck.

In our initial phone interviews with the underwriter, which we did not do in each other’s presence, the following conversation took place between the interviewer and yours truly.

Underwriter: Do you participate in high-risk sports?
Me: No
Underwriter: Do you smoke?
Me: Never
Underwriter: Have you ever been arrested for substance abuse while operating a vehicle?
Me: How long do those, um, types of offenses stay on your record, just out of curiosity?
Underwriter: Ma’am, I can’t tell you that.
Me: Well, then I prefer not to answer the question until I find out for sure.
Underwriter: Ma’am, please answer the question.
Me: I was only 21! And, for the record, I DID ask for a safe ride, and I did GET a safe ride back to the cottage, but then my very good friend decided she just HAD to go back to the bar to tell off her no-good, cheating boyfriend who was leaving to go back to Massachusetts the next day and it was almost last call, and she couldn’t drive a stick, and—are you typing? I don’t hear you typing?—and the drive back to the bar is exactly ONE mile on a VERY secluded road. It's so secluded, in fact, that the only things on it are these two TINY little stop signs, which most people in that area think of as more like CAUTION signs. However, I soon learned that the Emmet County Sheriff is not one of those people. So you see, Hello? Hellooooooooooooo? Mrs. Underwriter?

It appears that we are not quite as ADULT as we thought at the beginning of this process. Does anyone know of a black-market life insurance underwriter who could sneak a couple of fully-grown children through the process?

Post script—please read the posted comment from 'flogger' to see just how cool my husband is.