So, Hubby and I got into a conversation about sheets and thread count. He decided our sheets - which you probably could read a novel right through - had a thread count of two. One for him and one for me. Hahahahahaha! Next to his warm panini press legs, I married him for his sense of humor.
So we've been keeping our eye out for new sheets, but I'm too cheap to buy any (I ain’t digging into the Cheezits and Merlot fund, okay)?
Hubby texted me from work the other day.
Hey, babe, Obie is going to the Sportsman Show and they have 1200 count sheets for twenty bucks! Want him to pick us up a set?
Ummm ... no. Not really. Do I want some guy named Obie to buy me sheets at a Sportsman Show?
Call me old fashioned. Then it got me thinking, what else do I not want random men, like one named Obie, to buy me?
Feminine Hygiene Products
Hey, while you’re at it, maybe some guy named Juan could run out and buy me some Always Overnights with Wings! Let’s have a happy period together, man.
And if you meet some dude named Butch, ask if he could grab me some pantyhose at the Super Walmart! I haven’t worn any since 1993, but you never know.
And there’s this creepster named Snakes at the bus stop: would ya see if he could snag me a bra while he's at Freddie's? Make sure he gets the ones with the Petals of Support.
Have Bill drop by Vicky’s Secret. Tell him to use his instincts and get whatever he thinks would look good on me.
Hey, Uncle Francis, would you swing by the drugstore and get me some Natural Instincts? Just, you know, eyeball the shade. I’m sure it’ll be a fantastic match!
Any clothes. At all.
I’m feeling fat and unattractive! Tell Jim-bob to buy me something pretty. In the right size. And color. And style.
Heck, I'll never leave my house again. I'll just get strange men to buy me the bare necessities of life and deliver them to me while I lounge in yoga pants (courtesy of Jim-bob) and eat bon-bons. Sadly, my moral fibers and I turned down the generous offer made by my husband and his shopping pal and now I can't find a better deal. But I'll never admit it to him or to Obie. Or to Juan, Butch, or Snakes either.