What you are about to read is a true story. It will give you a glimpse into my marriage and why I think Guy and I should have our own reality show, but if you're squeamish or afraid of TMI, do not -- I repeat, do not -- read on.
So, it's 1:00 a.m. in the Tarbert household. I have just gotten home from work, eaten a salad, and changed into pajamas to get ready for a long winter's nap. Guy returned home soon after I did from a poker game at the house of the Indian. He was standing in the doorway of my "office," wearing his new "men's sleep shorts" that I got him for Christmas. I decided to teach him a lesson and smack his butt as I walked into the room. Being the tit-for-tat kind of guy that he is, Guy smacked my butt right back. Here is the short conversation that followed:
Me: Guy, I don't have a nice butt like yours, so you're not allowed to smack mine.
Guy: Well, then get a nice butt.
Me: I can't. It's called ge-ne-tics. (said with much attitude and bitterness).
Guy: It's called pi-la-tes.
And there you have it, folks -- reason number 2,354 for my extremely high (read "extremely low) self-esteem. Anybody looking for a husband?
1 comment:
I have multiple questions and would like them answered ASAP.
1. What are "men's sleep shorts?" I'm picturing something sold at Fred's of Hollywood in Dormont. Gross.
2. I'm looking for a step-in husband when I need to do things Laura doesn't like - i.e. video game for hours, ride motorcycles, plot world domination, etc. Is Guy available for this?
3. What "lesson" were you trying to teach your husband with your posterior pat?
I'm being forced to watch DVR'd soap operas. I've seen better acting in High School dramas.
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