Garth [not his real name] Exposed and Nearly Emasculated
I've been blogging for nearly 6 years, now (I know, I'm old, shuddup!) but, this is the first picture I have ever posted of my husband, Garth [not his real name] EVER and it pretty much sums up his personality, perfectly.
Grossed out, yet? Good. Because, well, you WILL NOT buh-leeve the story I am about to tell you.
Why? Well, not only am I about to break another cardinal blogging sin, because, after 6 years, folks are finally beginning to question whether Garth [not his real name] really exists [waves to Amber] but, my husband has already told EVERYONE and his hairdresser, even (who happens to be a woman) about our attempts at an at-home-do-it-yourself vasectomy and went as far as showing ALL the women in his office, you know, the scar!
Aaaaand, before I begin, this would be a terrific time for you to grab a warm (or, cool) beverage and for my MIL to click on ahead and read something...um...else.
Go ahead, I'll wait.
Is she gone? Good. Sorry mom, but this story is just too funny NOT to tell and, well, may even save a penis, or two.
Okay, so you know how we have 4 kids and live in a 7 room house, right? Well, after nearly 19 years of marriage, we've become quite accustomed to making a few adjustments in our lifestyle. Like, well, eating out (not very often) or, finding time for each other (rarely) and taking lots and lots of cold showers.
"HEY!!!! Who used up all the hot water?"
Suffice it to say, Garth [not his real name] holds the record -- of taking cold showers, I mean -- because, well, at the end of the day...let's just say...um...Mominatrix would be very, very disappointed in me.
Did I mention, I gave birth to 4 kids and dang if it doesn't feel like I'm always trying to keep something from falling off my body, or flopping out onto the dining room table, seriously?
I mean, all it takes is 1 hiccup and, you know, there goes mommy's uterus...flopped right next to the buttered carrots and looking a whole lot like a London broil, actually...it's what's for dinner!
Okay, so now that she's really gone (sorry, Mom) poor Garth [not his real name] and I haven't been able to...um...connect, as often as we'd like, you know?
"I'm going upstairs, okay?"
Lately, I've been going to bed...early...because, well, it's quiet in my room and I'm tired.
Then, poor Garth [not his real name] would come upstairs and...SNORE.
It is ALL about timing -- married couples (especially, with children) already know this -- I am a morning person while Garth [not his real name] peaks his freshness at night. Ironically, after all these years, we seemed to have switched roles.
"Maybe I will go and get snipped, then."
Aaaand, I swear to you, the angels on high began to really sing...right there...in the middle of Dirty Jobs!
Then, I woke up. Frankly, at this point in my life, I'm not getting snipped. Still, I couldn't help but wonder. What if? Would it rekindle the flames of passion and restore intimacy as a weekly, rather than monthly, routine? Would words like "spontaneous" and "uninhibited" become a part of our vocabulary, again? Would I even remember how to spell it? Without the use of spell check?
Then, I started to get excited. Honestly, the thought of Garth [not his real name] even considering putting himself under the knife...[cough]...the big baby...[cough]...for me, well, it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
[reaching in between the sheets]
So, I held onto his manhood, for a little longer, and drifted back to sleep.
"GUYS, GLEN'S NOSE IS BLEEDING AGAIN!"
Then, I pulled really hard (sort of like you would, starting a lawn mower) the next thing I knew, Garth [not his real name] was on the floor, writhing in pain, and there seemed to be something really wet, looking an awful lot like blood, on my hand.
"DAMN, WOMAN, YOU SCRATCHED MY ARM!"
Phew, for a minute there, I thought it was something else - you too, right?
"Do you think she saw?"
Honestly, I don't think that Garth [not his real name] really cared, at that moment...THE BIG BABY.
"Just look what she did to me!"
Although, I didn't take a picture of it (you're welcome) he is showing everybody his scar and seems to be getting off on it...STILL...so, take from it what you will.
My job is done here -- for the next few weeks, anyway -- go in peace.
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