HOME INVASION

Wifey: Either sing on key or quit singing. It's driving me nuts.

Me: But I like singing Shaft and Happiness is a Warm Gun (yes it is). They go with my mood. And I'm singing on key, thank you very much.

Wifey: Mood? You mean the crazy mood you always seem to be in when you're not working? Ahhh, the bulge under your t-shirt isn't the 40 cal, is it? If it is lose that damn thing to the gun safe.

Me: It is and I gotta protect the family from a home invasion. You never know about these things. Thugs kick in the door and by then it's too late to get the 40 out of the gun safe. Like a Boy Scout, it pays to be prepared.

Wifey: The only home invasion we'll have is from those pesky sugar ants that keep invading the kitchen. And the only thing you'll shoot is your Johnson off because you always fidget with that damn gun with the safety off. Go ahead, want to be without a pecker? Keep carrying that freaking gun around the house like you're Shaft or Dirty Harry and that's bound to happen before any home invasion will. You'll have to change the name of your blog to What About Peckerless Bob.

Me: I guess if I shot off my unit it would be the perfect time for that sex change. We could be girl friends.

Wifey: You are truly nuts, Bob. I don't know why I put up with this shit.

And that's how out this Saturday started out.

Next stop: Making pizza on Saturday night - PIZZA NIGHT! - twirling pizza in one hand, twirling the 40 caliber semi auto in the other. I love doing two things at a time: Exercising my Constitutional Right to bear arms and pissing the wife off.

It's always fun being Bob.