Like You Wouldn't Have Done The Same Thing
Let me begin by saying two things. First, I was advised last night by interested parties that I can tell this story. Second, this entry contains adult topics which may not be suitable for all readers. Please use your own judgment and proceed with caution.
That should guarantee everyone finishes this one. And no, Pud, Lil Sis and Brighton, it does not involve pre-op transvestites.
Last night I am working somewhat later than usual, as I am planning on going to a concert. Concert probably isn't the right term, it's more of a big block party with a lot of bands. You can hop from bar to bar and stage to stage and check things out as you wish. No charge for the bands, food and drink is coming out of your wallet. There are two problems with my plan. The first is that it's about 93 outside and with the humidity the "heat stress factor" is rumored to be approaching 867, or roughly the surface temeprature of Venus. I've gone outside a couple of times to check and it's really unpleasant. The good news is that the temperature is expected to drop in the evening. The bad news is problem two, the reason for the temperature drop is the series of large thunderstorms that will roll through the area until well into the night. Not something conducive to outdoor concert going.
So I'm in my office doing a little work, keeping an eye on weather maps and grooving along to Liz Phair singing "Jealousy." Let's have a listen shall we?
"Imagine me behind your eyes/and then what did I see/I saw hips/I saw thighs/I saw secret positions/that we never tried/I saw jealousy"
Great song. Thanks Liz. Where was I?
Oh, right. So there I am, be-bopping along and minding my own business. Cue ringing phone. It's mu wife. She wants to know if I've decided to go to the concert.
Me: "I dunno. The weather's looking pretty bad. I'm not even sure if the bands will be able to play"
Her: "So you're coming home?"
Me: "eh, I'll probably hang here for another hour and see what happens. The band I really want to see doesn't go n until 10 anyway"
Her: "Oh"
Me: "Why, what's up"
Her: "Well, you know me, and you know I'd never ask you not go out but..."
Me: (Sigh) "What's going on?"
Her: "well, I don't know how to say this"
Me: "Just say it" (takes a soon to be regretter sip of cherry Coke) (That's a hint)
Her: "The batteries in my vibrator died and I need you home right now"
Me: "PLBBBBBTTTHHHHHHH!!!"
I wonder how the concert was?
That should guarantee everyone finishes this one. And no, Pud, Lil Sis and Brighton, it does not involve pre-op transvestites.
Last night I am working somewhat later than usual, as I am planning on going to a concert. Concert probably isn't the right term, it's more of a big block party with a lot of bands. You can hop from bar to bar and stage to stage and check things out as you wish. No charge for the bands, food and drink is coming out of your wallet. There are two problems with my plan. The first is that it's about 93 outside and with the humidity the "heat stress factor" is rumored to be approaching 867, or roughly the surface temeprature of Venus. I've gone outside a couple of times to check and it's really unpleasant. The good news is that the temperature is expected to drop in the evening. The bad news is problem two, the reason for the temperature drop is the series of large thunderstorms that will roll through the area until well into the night. Not something conducive to outdoor concert going.
So I'm in my office doing a little work, keeping an eye on weather maps and grooving along to Liz Phair singing "Jealousy." Let's have a listen shall we?
"Imagine me behind your eyes/and then what did I see/I saw hips/I saw thighs/I saw secret positions/that we never tried/I saw jealousy"
Great song. Thanks Liz. Where was I?
Oh, right. So there I am, be-bopping along and minding my own business. Cue ringing phone. It's mu wife. She wants to know if I've decided to go to the concert.
Me: "I dunno. The weather's looking pretty bad. I'm not even sure if the bands will be able to play"
Her: "So you're coming home?"
Me: "eh, I'll probably hang here for another hour and see what happens. The band I really want to see doesn't go n until 10 anyway"
Her: "Oh"
Me: "Why, what's up"
Her: "Well, you know me, and you know I'd never ask you not go out but..."
Me: (Sigh) "What's going on?"
Her: "well, I don't know how to say this"
Me: "Just say it" (takes a soon to be regretter sip of cherry Coke) (That's a hint)
Her: "The batteries in my vibrator died and I need you home right now"
Me: "PLBBBBBTTTHHHHHHH!!!"
I wonder how the concert was?
posted by limpy99 at 8:24 AM
13 Comments:
I love making them booty phone calls!
Although...she's your wife and I guess it really isn't a booty call for you now is it?
Why do I get the feeling that at some point you replaced those batteries with older, half used ones.
No habla English, Nonny.
Hmmmm...music before sex! Unless you're getting some strange, then it's sex before music.
Speaking of jealousy...Why don't I ever get phone calls like that from my wife?
Do you have 'girlysounds' by Liz?
So, the pre-op transvestites showed up later then?
I'm glad I didn't sip anything while reading that - hilfugginglarious again.
(I seriously need a new adjective.)
Welcome to the 21st century where the real thing will have to do if the batteries are dead ;)
She needed you to stop at the store on your way home to pick up some new batteries? And you DID? Gee Limpy, you one heckuva guy to skip a concert just to pick up batteries for your wife. Good on ya!
;)
oh thats the best.
She's still waiting for the batteries Eclectic. I'm not a complete idiot.
I am however, enough of an idiot to have written "transvestite" several times when I should have been writing "transsexual".
As far as I know, you don't need an operation to wear women's clothes.
Although liposuction would make this skirt fit better.
either lipo or shapewear.
and excellent spelling of the sound of someone spitting out their cherry coke. still cracking me up.
and I've visited your site so much this morning because I had to copy the url...I'm not stalking, you, really ;)
Your wife rocks.
There is nothing more to say.
CP.
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