Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Whose my Daddy?

Having survived a long weekend with five of my favorite nephews and niece, as well as saying good bye to my brother's puppy, you would think waking up this morning I would be the picture of Susie Sunshine, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed. Instead, imagine a bleary eyed, red-nosed grouch who seems to be in withdrawal. Like the town drunk, only I apparently, am in withdrawal from lack of urine to clean up. Go figure.

With all the kiddies gone home, to be tucked into their own beds, I counted on having a fairly blissful sleep. Hubs was home for the evening which meant there was even a chance for some romance in the night. I always was a dreamer. Instead of back rubs, and passionate kisses, we argued over who was going to get up and close the damn door. Because we are mature. Hubs, having lost that argument, decided to take revenge. Upon his return into our love nest, he rolled over and gazed sweetly into my eyes.

"You're not the boss of me you know." Hubs whined.

"I am if you want any tonight, big boy," I replied in my sexy voice.

He muttered something about revenge being a dish best served cold and then gave me a quick peck on the lips and rolled over.

"What, where's the love?" I countered. He looked over his shoulder, sighed like he is doing me a big favor and rolled back in my direction. I should have figured something was up when I saw the evil gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, I've got the love, baby. Don't you worry," he says as he reaches down to pull the covers up while closing his eyes to lay a big romantic kiss on me.

I have said it once, I will say it again. I, the Redneck mommy, am a fool. Outfoxed by a man. Bastard.

Instead of laying the big one on me, and kick starting our night of passion, he pulled the covers over our head (isn't that romantic?) and let loose the biggest, smelliest damn fart I have ever had the misfortune of inhaling. Picture me thrashing wildy around, trying to escape. While being poisoned.

When he deemed I had sufficiently inhaled enough of his sour gas, he loosened his iron grasp on the covers and let me come up for air.

"Whose your daddy now?" he purred.

Next time, I'll shut the damn door myself.

8 Comments:

Blogger MrsFortune said...

Ewwwww .... yes, I highly recommend shutting the door next time. :-)

11:18 a.m.  
Anonymous Jojo said...

Tell Boo I'm so proud of him! Nothing beats a dutch oven!

1:24 p.m.  
Blogger Binky said...

You just wrote the story of my life.

2:50 p.m.  
Anonymous Robbi said...

i just came upon both of your blogs.. i am addicted to them both already!! :)

3:16 p.m.  
Blogger Abandoned in Pasadena said...

You should write a book you're so funny!

6:36 p.m.  
Anonymous Kristen said...

Nothing turns me on like a nice dutch oven.

YUMMO...

7:28 p.m.  
Blogger Canadian Dude said...

I think you can still buy those gas masks at the army surplus stores.

5:08 a.m.  
Blogger Emily said...

Who said romance is dead?!?!

10:32 a.m.  

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