This week, Shania Twain’s people announced that she was separating from her husband Mutt Lange. They were married in 1993, and have one son, Eja (pronounced “Asia”) (yes, I’m serious).
The official statement, as given to Us Weekly:
“Shania Twain and her husband, music producer Robert ‘Mutt’ Lange are separating after 14 years of marriage. This is a private matter and there will be no further comment at this time.”
That’s it? Well, if you’re not going to give me more than that, I’ll have to conjecture as to how this went down. I don’t KNOW what happened (Shania and I aren’t close anymore. She knows what she did.), but I have a pretty good idea:
(A deep underground lair, somewhere in the Swiss Alps)
(A group of soulless music executives is gathered around a board room table)
MUTT: I’d like to thank you all for coming. I think you’ll find my speech today, titled “Why I Am the Luckiest SOB to Walk The Earth”, both uplifting, and educational. My wife, Shania wishes she could be with us today. She’s…not feeling well (winks at his assistant).
MUTT’S ASSISTANT: Um…..yeah….
MUTT: Excuse me. (Takes his assistant aside) You did remember to give Shania her pills? The ones that shut off all logic and reasoning capabilities? Didn’t you? Didn’t you?? (begins shaking assistant). Because if she misses even ONE dose, we are up shit creek!
MUTT’S ASSISTANT: I TOTALLY meant to! But then you asked me to find that extra strength hair mousse you like so much and I…I guess I kind of spaced out. My bad.
(Interior of a castle)
(Shania is waking up on a massive four poster bed)
SHANIA: Where…what…who….where am I? (Looks at wedding picture on dresser).
WHAT THE HELL? I’m married to that? I wonder what his name is…oh look, on the inside of my wedding band, “To Shania, Love Mutt” Mutt? You’ve gotta be kidding. It’s not even one of those ironic nicknames, like calling a fat guy “Tiny”, this dude is seriously fugly! I’m starting to remember now; he’s a record producer. Now who was he working with before he sunk his hooks into me? Oh yeah, Def Leppard. Christ on a cracker, what was I thinking? DEF LEPPARD? The best they can do these days is a pity gig on “Dancing With the Stars”! Hey, I wonder if I can get on that show. Because I have a feeling this divorce is gonna cost me a freakin’ bundle. And midriff baring tops, neon scrunchies and lace bodysuits don’t grow on trees. Mama’s got expenses! Well, I’m taking our daughter…what do you mean you’re a boy? Who in the crap names a boy “Eja”? Oh man, this is gonna take a LOT of undoing….