Here's a sign to begin the workweek. Post this puppy in the employee lounge. Unfortunately, there's a lot of truth here.Another hot Cowtown day is in store. Wifey and I worked in the yard Sunday in 108 degree temps like two little sweathogs. Once in a while I'd yell over to Wifey:
Me: Squeal like a pig!
Wifey: EEEEEE!
Last night HBO or Showtime (I forget which) began a new series called Hung. It's about a teacher with a better than average Johnson who is forced by economics (divorce and a home destroyed by fire) into the world's oldest profession. Wifey enjoyed the show. At one point the size of this guys dick was the point of conversation by actors in the series.
I start to walk out to the kitchen to get a glass of water and in passing:
Me: Sorry that I don't have a big dick.
Wifey: That's okay.
Me: What?! That's okay?!!! I was just kidding. You've always said I was your John Holmes. Mr. Monster. Doctor Salami......
Wifey: That's okay.
Shit. All these years and that is her assessment of Bob's greatest assess? The family jewels?! Better start looking to pickup and apply some enhancing agents so this marriage can be saved. Otherwise I can see it now:
Phone rings. It's one of the kids:
Kid: Is mom home?
Me: Nope. She left town with Mr. Weenie and isn't coming back.
Kid: I always knew that was coming. Dad, you really do have a small dick.
3 comments:
Yeah? At least wifey doesn't constantly laugh at yours....
Fox: I'm afraid that's next.
My husband always jokingly says he's hung like a tuna can. He never hits bottom, but works the hell out of the sides. :)
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