For when you want to interrupt your husband’s powerfully unproductive link surfing.

Last night:

Text Exchange

We call the cats “bubbas,” just in case you were wondering. We don’t have a bedroom full of toothless rednecks that we let out at night.

 

Flustering Terry when I know he’s not watching porn by asking him indignantly if he’s watching porn is one of my favorite things to do for pre-sleep amusement (my own, not his).  I like how he suddenly turns into sputtering, wide-eyed Jimmy Stewart and says things like,  “Why, I never!” and “Pbssssbbbtt, WHAT?”

Weekends are the best.

(If you don’t know what shark porn is, you didn’t watch enough TV in the early 2000s.)

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