First, thank you so much for the very kind, supportive comments on Hurricane Plants last week, and I’m sorry I’m only now getting around to replying to them. We’re still in semi-quarantine, but Dane has an appointment with a specialist this week and I’m hoping we’ll get some more information on Thursday. In the meantime, I’m spending my writing time staring at a blank screen and raging against a villainous, nefarious, rash-causing something. But really, bloggy peeps. Deeply. Thank you.
And now back to our regularly scheduled snark.
My husband is gainfully employed, for which I am deeply, deeply, truly, deeply thankful. And because of his gainful employment, and because this blog is on this newfangled dagnabbity contraption called the internet, and because prospective employers apparently can make you log into The Facebook during an interview these days (WTF, PEOPLE?), I will tell you only hypothetically of a conversation that may or may not have occurred between the two of us a while – quite a while, now, actually – back.
Me: Did you read my blog post?
Husband: Which one?
Husband: Heheheheheh. Heheh. Heh.
Husband: Okay, fine, yes. It was funny.
Husband: Well, I was thinking of writing an ode to my (insert obnoxious-but-not-really-offensive-1984 -word for manparts here).
Me: That. Would. Be. Awesome.
And since that moment, all those weeks ago, I have time and time again wondered: what WOULD my husband say to his manparts, given the opportunity? So, with no further ado, I present:
An Imagined Letter From My Better Half to His Manparts
So, manparts. Do you mind if I call you Towering Fortress of Manliness? Giant Turkey Leg of Awesomeness? Or Harvey? I’ve always liked the name Harvey. Harvey, it is.
p.s. We scored on that wife thing, huh?