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On our anniversary this year, Kenny gave me a beautiful, oversized card that listed a few of my better qualities and why Hallmark thought he scored when we got married. My instinctive love of comedy kicked in, and I began to mentally rewrite the card with reasons he didn't get quite so lucky but chose to stick it out anyway, which is actually a better love story.

As I was jotting down an embarrassingly long list of my less-than-stellar characteristics that would deter all but most hardy partner, Kenny looked over my shoulder with a big grin, saying, "This is great. If you need more, I can add several off the top of my head." One look at the expression on my face and, not being a stupid man, he immediately added, "But they wouldn't all necessarily be true, of course." Nice save, buddy.

An hour or so later, Kenny was red-faced from laughing, while I was trying unsuccessfully to retain the tiniest shred of dignity, and we'd compiled a fairly impressive list. So with a little help (and considerably more enthusiasm than the discussion required) from Hubs, here are the "14 Reasons I Could Never Be Married to Me."

1. I'm undiagnosed but collectively believed by family, friends and a couple of ex-husbands to be OCD and ADHD. The last Hubs frequently remarks that I don't get divorced as much as I just leave my husbands in exhausted heaps on the side of the road, in what he calls "the empty carcasses of the men they used to be." A more sensitive woman would be hurt by that, but the visual never fails to crack me up.

2. I'm not a nurturer. If you're sick, I'll take your dog to the groomer, pick up your drycleaning, or feed your gerbil. But you'll never hear the words, "Oh my poor Pookey Bear, let me feed you this homemade soup" come out of my mouth, ever.

3. I tend to burst out laughing at the most inopportune times, when virtually any other response would be a better choice. Like when we're fighting. Or during sex. "I'm not laughing at you, but with you" gets a lot of play time at our house.

4. I'm easily frustrated. If I can't do something after two tries, it's most likely been tossed out the window into the soccer field next door. It's our version of a garage sale, but everything is free.

5. I'm a complete klutz. I've tripped over everything from small objects to what could only be described as air, as in "there wasn't anything there." Kenny has seen me in every possible version of a faceplant and has gotten to the point where he just steps over me while asking, "Need help?"

6. I can't cook. At all. When we got our first microwave (yes, a billion years ago), I put a peanut butter sandwich in it to warm it up, set the timer for 15 minutes, and went to take a shower. When I returned, the door had blown open, showering cupboards and countertops with bits of exploded sandwich pieces, and we were scraping bits of peanut butter, jelly, and/or bread off canned goods for a week. My skills have never improved.

7. I have no filter. Hubs asks, with only slightly annoying regularity, "Do you think before you speak, or do you just open your mouth and let the words fall out?" Yeah, the second one.

8. I don't share my food. With three older brothers, two dads, and a couple of ex-husbands, who all seem to think that my plate looks more appetizing than theirs and who apparently believe that anything less than half a serving still constitutes "just a bite," I've learned to guard my dinner by threatening to stab a fork through any hand found hovering over my plate.

9. I don't always listen, regularly replying before Kenny has stopped speaking. He calls it "interrupting." I call it enthusiasm.

10. I have the attention span of a circus flea for things I'm not interested in. Kenny gave up by our second year trying to get me into televised sports, and the 130th replay of his golf stroke on hole #9 will most likely send me running for the corkscrew and a second bottle of wine.

11. I have pretty much zero concerns about failure. Not because I don't fail, but because it doesn't phase me. Epic fails make great dinner conversation, especially with your kids, and then become your best blog posts. People may or may not want to hear about your successful weight loss or how much you give to charity every year, but they're all over the time you drove over the neighbor's previously prize-winning cat's tail in nothing but your underwear.

12. I constantly whine about my weight, but continue to fill our grocery cart with food items not recognized by any diet program anywhere on the planet. Hubs has learned not to say a word.

13. I spend stupid amounts of money on products that promise to make me thinner, prettier or younger, especially if they require minimal to no effort on my part. I don't see this pattern diminishing as I get even older.

14. I don't like to fight, but if you insist, your dead grandmother's alcoholic niece is fair game.

Personally, I'd drop-kick this woman's ass to the door. But for some unfathomable reason, Kenny keeps coming home every night. As we reviewed our list, he grinned and said, "You're kind of one of those 'Be Careful What You Wish For' things." He grabbed a blank sheet of paper, scribbled on it for a few minutes, then handed it to me flourish. "Here's your real card."

The front said, "I asked God to send me a woman who makes me laugh." The inside read: "Clearly I should have been a bit more specific. The Big Guy responded with 'Done. She's at the airport. But no refunds and no exchanges. My phone line is always open, however. Good luck, buddy, and just remember, this was your idea.'"

And they lived happily ever after.

- Vikki Claflin

Oregon writer Vikki Claflin writes the popular humor blog, Laugh Lines. Two recent pieces have been published in Life Well Blogged: Parenting Gag Reels - Hilarious Writes and Wrongs: Take 26.