Tuesday, December 18, 2012

I'm desperate, read this mess.

Sometimes I laugh at myself.
That's a lie.

I always laugh at myself.

My husband doesn't think I'm so funny. We went on a hot hot date this past weekend to the great lands of City Creek (wooooo, adventuresome over here.) We even stayed in a hotel, courtesy of Uncle Goldman. We decided to eat dinner at The Lion House, and see the lights shortly after.

While waiting in line, I saw an older man with perfect hair walking our way. "What nice hair you have." ran through my mind, but before complimenting this strange man, I decided to take a look at his face. It looked a little something like this.

"Oh my gosh. It's Mitt Romney."
My husband looked at me.
"I'm not even kidding."

Sure enough, our good ol' friend Mitt was roaming the sidewalks of Temple Square. Speaking of Temple Square, as we looked at the lights, I decided to rap. And sing. I'm a cross breed between Eminem and Beyonce (Jay-Z got nothin' on me. Rapped as I typed. Win.) Somewhere during my performance, husband stopped holding my hand and asked me what I was doing, and why I was making monkey noises.

"I'm not making monkey noises. I'm turnin' on my swag. You know, channeling my inner Biebs."

He wouldn't talk to me until I revoked that statement.

Speaking of rapping with Eminem, I love Jimmy Kimmel.

Last week we had some good times with word slip ups.
I have probably mentioned before the slip-up I made a while back when I was talking to my mother in law. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the area (I was just proof reading and saw I put area. I don't know what I was trying to say so I can't fix it.), the short story is I meant to say that when it came to dinner, the husband and I were not having much success. Instead, it came out as, "Lately we just haven't had much sex… sex."

A few days ago, Husband was telling me we needed a loaf of bread. I disagreed, because we had rolls. Still, he insisted. I ended up saying, "FINE! I'll go buy you a loast of bread." The husband questioned me for ten minutes, asking what a "loast" of bread was.
Moments after recovering from my loast incident, I was filling up a glass with tap water. Our water filter always seems to be empty. I was fake-blamed for drinking all of the filtered water, so I looked at my husband and said, "Hey, I'm the one here drinking the tap whopper." He laughed and said, "Well why don't you take your glass of whopper and go buy a loast of bread!"

Last night I asked him to "prease play".
I need speech therapy.

And a life.


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