Little Sweet Nothings from My Pup

My husband is hilarious to me.

On our first date he said so many inappropriate things that he had me (and I mean this literally) rolling with laughter on a pool table in the pub near my house where I would meet all of my Match.com dates.

But I had been on so many incredibly boring Match.com dates that he was a breath of fresh air. Gasping for air, fresh air. The man makes me laugh.

He is also not a romantic.

Oh, he remembers the color of my knickers from our first date, easily spotted while I was rolling around on that pool table apparently, and he made me swoon a bit on that first date by holding my hands across the table while telling me about the movies in which Meg Ryan has shown her 'fun bags.' His words.

Don't let all of that fool you. He is not a romantic.

But I laughed and laughed until tears were streaming down my face.

He makes me laugh every day.

Here are the different ways my husband woos me. Every day.

But please stop reading now if you are easily offended, a my child, eating breakfast, ever wanting to eat breakfast again, or just not "that kind of girl."

If you're a man, maybe these would work for you? No?

My Pup means all of these in the most loving way.

• How about a quick bone for the road?
• I'd love me some whisker lickins!
• Come on! A little pickle-tickle?
• Aren't you happy to know I want to stick my rod in your piston?
• You should wear looser shorts so I can put the trouser-snake right up there.
• Really! Let me put my wiener in your bun.
• Get upstairs, I want to poke you in the whiskers.
• Wanna ride the bologna pony?
• Drop trou and I'll do ya. Right here.
• Come 'er; I wanna pop you in the heinie.
• I gotta kiss the 'girls' goodbye. You know the rules.
• Time for a titty-tickle?

How can I resist? The man has a way with words.

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Pupism of the Week

Do you think if Calvin's balloon-knot broke free that he would blow about the room like a deflating balloon?

What it is!

I'm so whiny right now I can barely be in the same room with me.

C'est la vie!

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Life with Pup

Favre Doing the Al Bundy

Pup is finally done with 18 hour work days and is now running around Chez Emerson in his typical fashion – wrecking havoc everywhere he goes.

It’s good to have him back, but now that I’m working for the first time in our short marriage he’s a little bit spoiled and I’m having to train him in on how to clear a table, how to pick up his clothes, and how to own his free time. He’s not used to free time poor darlin’.

Here is a sprinkling of what Life with Pup is like now that he’s free.

Sweetie . . . do you suppose a rabbit really likes carrots?

Do you think Calvin likes it when I haggle him?

Did you know that it's hotter in the city than in the country?

Dollink . . . Dollink . . .

Look at my tiny butt. Don't you think my butt is tiny?

Do you think Calvin eats kleenex so he doesn't have to wipe his ass?

Do you think Calvin gets mad because I’m taller than him?

Do you think Calvin minds when I turn my back on him?

Look Sweetie, George is humping me. So I’m kicking him in his faux-nuts. He likes it!

You should blog about how clean Calvin’s little balloon-knot is. [To which I replied, “Get your own blog.”]

Let me see the chimichunga.

Feel this . . . I think there is something wrong with it. It's all hard.

Honey, show me Felix. Come on.

No matter how many spankings you get in a day, you need more.

And apparently he has missed his wiener, because it’s all about the wiener lately. Well, strike that, because isn’t it all about the wiener all the time? Do I see a show of hands?

So, Pup sits around like Al Bundy. Can’t let that thing out of his sight. Or out of his hand.

He places his wiener on the back of my desk chair, places his wiener on my neck, places it on my back.

We will be in the office, having a normal conversation. I turn to look at him. His wiener is out. He has expectant look on his face.

Walks through the house, stops to shake it at George. Stops to shake it at Calvin.

Says, “Hey, why don’t they shake their wieners at me?

His wiener looks delighted to be out and about once again I have to say.

Smooches my Pup, I missed you.

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Happiness Is a Warm Gun

Pupisms

Yes, now he's sick. Not surprising, not unexpected. Poor baby!

Last night we head up to the loft early so Pup can watch a bit of TV and I can surf for decorator-porn.

He's the master-whiner in our house.

"Dollink . . ."

"Dollink . . . you better rub my butt."

"Why?"

"Just rub it."

"You're kidding right"?

"Well, you better rub something."

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