my tracking device still works.
FirstHusband called me from work today: “Honey, I REALLY need you to engage your vaginal tracking device.” (Rosanne Barr used to say the uterus was a tracking device, but since I no longer have one of those…)
Me: “I don’t know where your stripper boots are. Or your keys.”
FirstHusband: “I’m desperate. I’ve looked EVERYwhere I can think of. They’re not at work, they have to be at home. It’s been a week. I need you to find them. Please?”
Me: “When did you wear the boots last? It was before I made fun of them on the internet.”
FirstHusband: “Sunday. I remember I was going to dump them behind the chair, but I knew it would annoy you.” (are you jealous ladies?) I just don’t know where I would have put them.
Me, thinking out loud: “They’re giant, they’re not easy to miss.”
I walk straight to the laundry room, open the coat closet and ask: “How much do you love me?”
FirstHusband: “YOU FOUND THEM? WHERE?!?!”
Still looking for the keys. But I do remember he didn’t answer the “How much do you love me?” question.
Note to FirstHusband: Here honey, I found THIS for your future reference. Aren’t you lucky I’m so good at finding things?
If you’ve got time to hang out for a few minutes, check out what else makes me laugh: Pragmatic Compendium’s “laugh!” category.
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