1. Our dryer, Big Rhoda is alive and well, thanks to the brilliant mind and hands of my darling, amazing, dazzling, too damn cute, and sexy husband. It is too bad he shaved his beard four days ago. I really like my husband shaggy and fuzzy.
2. I don't know what it means, but after five years of marriage, I realized that on weekends I dress like my husband. Our weekend uniform is jeans and a t-shirt. It's comfortable, fast, and easy dressing with what this society considers to be men clothing. Oh, by the way, fuck society.
3. But lately, my legs and thighs have been craving skirts. Floral skirts. Tight skirts. Peasant skirts. Is it my biology saying "hello?"
4. I also have a craving for cute granny sweaters in all pastels colors.What the hell is going on?!
5. I buy most of my clothes at thrift stores. My husband does not like thrift stores. Actually, he doesn't like to buy clothes. Clothes do not interest him. Some of our best figths have been about clothes.
Dirty Laundry Display #1A:
On our return from Mexico last November, my husband wore a t-shirt with some communist propaganda printed on the front. Obviously, TSA questioned my husband's t-shirt at the airport. Oh, crap! I imagined the worst: V. in Guantamo, waiting 20 years for a trial. I felt really scared. So, when we got home I told him not to ever wear that damn communist t-shirt ever again.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Clue number #1:
You never ever tell my husband what to wear and what not to wear! (I know, I know, I should know better).
Ding! Ding! Ding! Clue number #2:
You never ever buy clothes for my husband. Okay, so I'm a slow learner because the following week after our trip, I went shopping for the most pro United States, the most patriotic, the most conservative, the most Republican, the most "I want to kiss your ass, TSA" t-shirt I could find and bingo! I found it! It was only 99 cents!!! What a deal, man!
What followed at the sweet home of V and L was a marital quarrel worthy of an HBO special. Yes, V. refused to wear the t-shirt. V brought in politics, religion, history, Palestine and even Peje to his defense. I had nothing, except for a good dose of of "American Paranoia" and lots of fear of Homeland Security, TSA, and Guantanamo. He smashed me with his well-construtive defense. Argh! Now, the poor t-shirt sits lonely in the closet.
(if you are interested in this FREE t-shirt or just want to be "COOL" with TSA, email me. I'll send it to you).
Soy una taza, ¡un cucharón!
1 day ago