On the Doghouse
You will do something wrong. It will be minor and I will in turn “be a girl”, making your day not so delightful. For this indiscretion, please say “I’m sorry,” compliment my shoes, and remind me how brilliant I am. Oh no, we’re not done. A token of your affection will be received with open arms. Please choose from the following: 1. A giftcard (Sephora,...
The following is a list of who I look to as “healthy relationship role models” : -Ice T and CoCo -Wilma and Fred -Zach and Kelly Morris (I just know) -The Cosbys
No matter how bad life is, I will never wear a mui mui. I don’t care if Great Aunt June does have a nice selection of floral fabric.
On Shaking It Like a Salt Shaker
By now I know you did not pick me because of my most excellent dance moves. Though I feel my “grocery cart” is above-par and I know my running man is in the top 2%, I may not be the most coordinated with movements. This does not give you free-reign to laugh at me as we are speeding down the Interstate. Yes, I think the car is a perfectly safe place to practice the moves I acquired...
On Eggs (over easy)
I like brunch. I feel like a grown-up with polished silverware, mimosas, and multiple courses. But let’s be honest; I’d rather be at Waffle House. May I have your toast?
On the Seventh Day
You get Sunday mornings. Lazy, in bed, political-show-watching mornings.
On (my) Momma
I promise to not complain about my crazy southern mother daily. That’s all you get.
I may occasionally curse like a prostitute who moonlights as a trucker. Don’t correct me. I’m choosing my words carefully.
On Team Spirit
I know you know I’m secretly staring at #42’s ass in those glorious football pants. But at least I’m not talking during the game, right?
I promise only half of the shower will be filled with “chick stuff.” And maybe the linen closet. You kind of enjoy smelling like raspberries, don’t you?
On Oceanic Creatures (who give chase)
If you are against a week of every television in our shared living quarters being tuned to Discovery Channel 24 hours a day that one glorious week in July, then I suggest you price line a hotel now. And do not judge me for getting excited when the sharks chase people.
I promise to let you turn the thermostat down. Even if it means wearing a sweatshirt in July. You better find it sexy. Or lie. At least I’ll know when you call me “hot” you are referring to my kick-Angelina’s-behind sexiness.