Carl Mundy: The GFA’s and My Fifth Wife

Carl Mundy: The GFA’s and My Fifth Wife

The views expressed in this editorial are not those of or its subsidiaries. Your editorial team would like to take this chance to implore the Whole Foods Corporation: please do not ban us from your stores. Your slices of pizza, while kind of expensive, are totally worth it.

Guest Columnist Carl Mundy, Waterbed Warehouse (Twin Falls, ID)

“The GFA’s and My Fifth Wife: A Crisis Of Phenom-O-Knowledgy”

Who are we? What are we doing here? Do my actions have meaning, and to whom? What’s the quickest way to get yet another no-fault divorce? And finally, what in all holy stinky hell has been goin’ on at the Good Food Awards?

I was in the parkin’ lot at the Perkin’s off I-80, near Elko, when it finally hit home. Me an Annabelle, my fifth wife, had been married around a year, and I came to a realization: she’s a finalist, sure, but there’s plenty ’bout her worth disqualifying. Your old boy Carl’s search for love has been a long, winding, divorce-laden road, with the occasional palimony suit along the way, but when I make a set of rules, dangit, I sticks to ’em. No bustin’ my buster browns, no changin’ the channel on Sundays in the Fall, and absolutely no GMO’s: Genuinely Modest Outfits. I likes ’em sexy, even in church.

Now don’t get me wrong, when I first met Annabelle it seemed like she met every last one of those competition standards. She was a legit half-container of microlot DT handshake farmer yeeha, I tell you what.  And unlike the GFA’s, this ain’t your old boy Carl’s first trip to the rodeo; after 4 previous marriages, I would have figured I’d have my certification process down pat by now, if yuh know whudda mean. But it turns out that in life, as in multiple unsuccessful marriages, the big boys like Carl Mundy and Whole Foods have to be allowed to change our minds once in a while. It’s just as simple as that. You say non-synthetic pesticides are okay, and then you go back and flip-flop on the whole thing; you make promises about certain wifely duties, and then it turns out you’re more interested in watching the Home Jesus Shopping Network than you are in payin’ attention to ol’ Carl.

That’s a sure-fire recipe for disqualification!

Reminds me of a conversation me and Annabelle were havin’ before I decided to put the kai-bosh on this pertik’lar round of judging. I says to her, I says “don’t worry about makin’ us dinner tonight, honey. Just go out and pick us up somethin’ from the Rib Rack. So long as you do your best job getting somethin’ delicious to eat, everything’s gonna be just fine”. Then I kicked her to the curb for not cooking at home. There’s a little parallel for you folks to chew on, while I chow down on these gas station nachos. Is it fair to disqualify all these quality roasters just cos the GFA’s promised them it was cool to play fast and loose? Is it alright for me to be lookin’ for love, yet again, just cos Annabelle turned out to be five-foot-four-inches of pain in my pattycakes? Who knows.

But if there’s another marriage, another GFA event, well, we’ll have learned a thing or two about requirements and expectations, and we’ll get it better next time. That’s for sure. Hmm…thinkin’ about pickin’ something up at the Rib Rack right now. Annabelle, whatchoo want? Oh wait. I forgot. It’s just me again…

The views and opinions expressed in this piece do not, repeat, do not represent the editorial voice of Carl Mundy can be reached via the Waterbed Warehouse at 391-555-3858, or at

  1. Becky Waskey

    17 December

    I spit coffee all over my keyboard. THANKS SPRUDGE!

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