Alternatively entitled ‘How LS came THIS close to having to brush his teeth per-rectum for the rest of his natural’.
I was planning to crack out a much-overdue paragraph of snark (or twenty) about the fact that Goo.gle still in the face of all the non-kinky evidence believes me to be the font of all knowledge when it comes to certain hijinks involving certain orifices. For the sake of politeness, I shall hereby term them reverse traffic on the usually one-way Yellow-Pee Road and Hershey Highway.
Urgh.
Perhaps next time. I hope you can wait, dear reader, because Goo.gle has been bumped by a particularly tactless Act Of Man.
To set the scene, last night LS and I were lying in bed, but don’t worry, it’s not that kind of tale:
LS: ‘Can I ask you a question?’
Geohde: ‘I guess you just did, so yes?’
LS: ‘Smartarse. No another question, but it might sound strange.’
Geohde: ‘Yeeeesssss?’
LS: I hope he was thinking that the following was tantamount to leaving a suicide note, tidying up the will and topping oneself ‘Um, well. Could you be pregnant?’
Geohde: in the Special Female Thin Ice Skating Voice ‘Why do you ask, my love?’
LS: Risking the continued attachment of his left arm to his shoulder by patting a certain abdomen lovingly ’It’s just that your belly seems to be sticking out, and I wondered….’
Geohde: Heavy sigh. Nice. ‘Okay. Let’s settle this easily. I want you to concentrate for me. Leaving aside the matter that shagging has a spectacularly poor personal track record when it comes to my uterus acquiring tenants, can you recall when we last actually had sex?’
LS: ‘……..’
Geohde:‘Ker-ching! Thank you.I’m probably just fat, darling. Although, more correctly I just have this minor issue with a bleeping great saggy gap in the middle of my abdomen from bearing your children. Sweet dreams.’
In other words, it may be CD100 around here, and if this were a game of cricket I’d be positively thrilled to reach a century, but I am comprehensively not knocked up. Trust me, I’ve wasted five bucks and checked just in case the latest rage in conception is the immaculate kind.
Regardless, I think the sex drought around these parts might last just a little bit longer after that one. Along with the Washing Male Underwear drought.
July 16, 2009 at 12:02 pm
*snort* You’re more tolerant than I am. Seriously, he’d already be denture shopping if he were my LS…
July 16, 2009 at 12:30 pm
wow, LS doesn’t care a bit if he lives to see tomorrow, does he? i admire your tact and restraint.
July 16, 2009 at 1:17 pm
Did you tell him that you know a surgeon who can remove that foot from his mouth for him? Men are so slow sometimes.
July 16, 2009 at 1:29 pm
My husband likes to tell me I’m getting soft, and I need to do something about my ass. It’s like that marriage certificate gave him license to comment on my appearance or something. It’s a wonder he still has testicles, since I am so frequently tempted to kick him there.
July 16, 2009 at 6:33 pm
The puzzling thing is that he clearly stopped to think about what he was going to ask before doing so. That is what calls into question his judgment in a rather damning way.
This whole babies-in-the-tummy thing really does something to your body. My darling reassured me when I was pining (very, very quietly) after a big belly on the playground, that I could definitely still pass after a big dinner. Although I honestly think my tummy looks much more like a well-acquired beer gut at the moment.
July 16, 2009 at 10:51 pm
Hide all the treats and fill your cupboards with those healthy foods that taste like straw, and tell him you both clearly need to eat better. That’ll serve him right.
July 16, 2009 at 11:28 pm
Well – DO NOT FELL ALONE G. Would you believe my male counterpart has asked the same question (a couple of times in our time together). Albeit, believe it or not, a long time ago – when I was much much thinner than I am know, looking back I was insulted, only now do I realize that he was just being hopeful, and wanted to knock up his girlfriend…
July 16, 2009 at 11:28 pm
That is FEEL along, not FELL alone…
July 17, 2009 at 1:39 am
Okay, so G doesn’t ask this question for obvious reasons –but here’s yet another example of the male species thinking they are funny when really they are risking life and limb — I got out of the shower and G said “my god, you’re a mammal”.
Mammal.
Why yes, yes I am.
Nothing says feeling sexy like being called a mammal….
xo
Pam
July 17, 2009 at 2:08 am
Sometimes I wonder where they keep their brains.
July 17, 2009 at 4:31 am
Mine would not be alive right now – cos I don’t have any kids and I got that tummy flab as well
xxx
July 17, 2009 at 4:39 am
Um, so nice of him to try to help… He’s a bold one. I’ll give him that. Thanks for the chuckle.
July 17, 2009 at 6:16 am
Do guys NEVER learn? Do Not Ever EVER mention weight, ever. Sure fire way of nixing any bed activity.
My sister still thinks I am pregnant and just not telling her, so don’t worry, my very unpregnant belly is probably bigger than yours.
July 17, 2009 at 6:24 am
Sigh. Stupid boys.
July 17, 2009 at 10:36 am
I agree. Boys are stupid.
July 17, 2009 at 8:02 pm
Oh my Lordy. Is he still alive????
July 18, 2009 at 7:29 am
Mine just tells me I’m fat. I’ve had a few strangers ask when I’m expecting. Sigh. I say, give him the finger.
July 18, 2009 at 10:45 am
LS must have 8 inches and two ginormous nuts to be able to say something like that to the person who can weild a scalpel while he sleeps.
July 18, 2009 at 5:24 pm
He didn’t.
Bea
July 20, 2009 at 7:03 am
Ah. Oops. What a colossally unclever remark.
H once spent a good ten minutes telling me how much he loved my squidgy dimply Buddha-belly. He was astonished when I got cross. He honestly thought I’d be pleased and flattered. And yet when I praise the rotundity of his cider-belly…. Men. Pfft.
July 22, 2009 at 5:20 am
He definitely knows how to live dangerously.