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It’s a Good Thing He Thinks I’m Cute
The hubs was home for four whole days. A lot of liquor was consumed, more pizza than I care to admit and I did my best Gumby impersonation on more than one occasion.
Besides having some quality romantic time , Boo managed to knock a few items off my Honey Do list. Without me bitching at him. NO. REALLY. He did it all on his own. He was just so damn happy to be back at home living with his family, he would have done just about anything in gratitude to show his appreciation of us.
Well, that and the fact that he got a speeding ticket on his way home. The facker was trying to earn his salvation.
Admittedly, neither of us are the perfect spouse. But that doesn’t stop us from trying (for about two whole hours) when we see each other.
One of the items on Boo’s list of chores to accomplish before his wife’s candy store opened for business was for him to get his passport. Other items included giving me a back rub, grilling me a steak and putting his damn laundry away.
(You’d be surprised at the lengths I’d go to avoid putting laundry away.)
First thing Friday morning, we trekked into the city to our nearest passport office. About half way there, Boo slammed on the brakes and looked at me with a wild look of panic in his eye.
“I forgot my birth certificate at home. We have to go back.”
“Do you have your driver’s license?” Going back home would tack on another hour before we even hit city limits and I was jonesing for a Starbucks coffee.
“Ya, but the papers clearly state I need my birth certificate and I left it on the counter.”
Like the dumbass I am, I looked at him and said, “Nah, they don’t even look at it. When I went this spring they didn’t ask to see it. You’ll be fine. I promise. Now get thee to the city so that I may spend obscene amounts of your hard earned cash on calorie-ladled coffee.”
“Are you sure?” he asked as he looked at me warily.
“Is the sky blue? Now quit doubting your wife and drive!”
Walking into the passport building and noting the two hundred or so people waiting to see the three government officials stuck in their little kiosk, Boo looked at me and said, “I’m gonna murder you in front of all these people if we wait in this bloody line all damn day only to discover we needed my birth certificate.”
“It gets me all hot when you threaten me, pretty boy. Now act like a good boy and get in line with the rest of the lemmings.”
Lucky for me we only waited about an hour in a line filled with annoying people before the government official asked for his birth certificate and tsked at us as she sent us packing until we could produce one.
Needless to say, Boo was annoyed. And I narrowly escaped with my life. So yesterday, we went back to the passport office, birth certificate clasped tightly in Boo’s oversized paw, and gasped when we saw the length of the line. It seemed to triple over the weekend.
Fack. Double fack.
“You are so not worth this.” Boo was annoyed, as he weaved his way to the back of a line that weaved about the building several times. I could feel my shame rise again as I vividly recalled telling him not to turn the car around.
Every now and then, my stupidity astounds me.
“I’ll fix this. Wait here. And don’t talk to any strangers. Especially females. You may decide to trade me in. Can’t have that.” Off I set to fix the problem. Lucky for me, the guard remembered Boo and I clearly from Friday and after a few flattering words (okay, so I begged like my life depended on it) she obtained a ticket for us to by pass the line.
Boo was impressed. The hundreds of people who had been waiting in line for hours before us, were not. “How did you do that?” A silence ensued as the surrounding people held their breath to learn my dark secrets.
“Easy. I showed her my boobs. Works every time.”
“Damn. I need a set of knockers. Think of the raises and vacation time I could get if I could just flash my boobs willy-nilly at the boys.”
“Oh, Boo. You aren’t that far behind. A few more donuts and then I’ll teach you to squeeze your boobs together using your arms. With your pretty blue eyes, tight ass and growing breasticles, you’ll have all the men after you in no time,” I joked.
Just as he was reaching to choke the life out of me, his number was called.
Saved by an underpaid, overworked, government official. Who would have thought?
September 25th, 2007 at 8:21 am
Ah, T….you are lucky that Boo didn’t murder you. My husband CERTAINLY would have.
Glad you and Boo had some “quality time”….
September 25th, 2007 at 8:40 am
RM, how do you do it? How long is Boo gone? How do you bear it when you miss him so badly your breath catches in your chest? I’m new at this. My WH is now working a week on/week off rotation, and for the most part I’m fine, but sometimes it’s just about paralyzing. Any advice for me? I would be sooo grateful…
September 25th, 2007 at 8:47 am
I bypassed the line in our VERY busy passport office just by filling in the forms online first. Talk about if looks could kill…
September 25th, 2007 at 8:51 am
You crack me up. I love coming here.
{So glad your ta-tas came to your rescue.}
September 25th, 2007 at 9:12 am
Perfect! And the “breasticles” - that’s a new one to me.
September 25th, 2007 at 9:13 am
Can you teach me that trick? Cause what nature gave me sure isn’t doing the trick.
September 25th, 2007 at 9:29 am
I hope they had the decency to ask for the birth certificate on that second day!
September 25th, 2007 at 10:23 am
Breasticles?
OMFG I am laughing so hard I think I might explode.
September 25th, 2007 at 1:03 pm
Ohh you barely escaped that one didn’t you. Thank goodness for the timing of the overworked underpaid govt official.
September 25th, 2007 at 4:28 pm
*gaffaw* It’s the other way around in this household. My husband would say ‘nah, don’t need it’ and I would be fretting and for that one freaking day in the whole life of the ‘official’ they would forget to ask for the birth cert. Or if we are running late for an appointment or a bus and that will be the day that the bus/appointment will be running late. He is amazing! I pisses me off no end.
I call it micro luck and he is using it all up on inane stupid things. I wanna win the lottery and he is wasting it!!!!
September 26th, 2007 at 6:53 am
BREASTSICLES?
Are those as lickable as they sound?
September 26th, 2007 at 7:20 am
I have boobs and I still don’t get that reaction. Did you bust out Racy Red?
September 26th, 2007 at 7:34 am
Would you believe my Husband is STILL waiting for his?
It’s insane.
September 26th, 2007 at 9:32 am
Were you wearing the purple shirt?
BTW, you’re the winner of some more blog bling.
September 26th, 2007 at 11:57 am
I just love reading posts about your boobs. I wish you’d write about them more often.
September 26th, 2007 at 2:31 pm
Hee hee.
FYI, I nominated you for Post of the Month (August) at Seattle Mom Blogs . . . and YOU WON! CONGRATULATIONS.
September 26th, 2007 at 2:36 pm
I have that same crazy caffeine addiction. It makes it impossible to think clearly.
September 26th, 2007 at 2:54 pm
Nice. Finally a useful government official for ya hey?
What did you do go downtown for your passport? It is pure craziness there I tell you!
P.S Thanks for dropping by my blog and commenting on the loading speed, I needed more feedback!
September 26th, 2007 at 5:09 pm
I bet you had to impersonate Gumby a few more times for that one!!!
You are too much.
September 26th, 2007 at 5:40 pm
But I’d like to know is what you had to do to make up for it.
Scratch that.
I don’t need to know, I can use my imagination.
September 27th, 2007 at 6:19 am
Breasticles?! I’m dying.
They sound like a yummy frozen delight.
September 27th, 2007 at 6:49 am
LOL!!! You know, my redneck wouldn’t listen to me. He’d just turn the car around and say “Fack your Starbucks”.
You guys are hilarious.
By the way, I blame you for my new obsession “Hot And Bothered”. It’s ALL your fault.
September 29th, 2007 at 1:13 pm
This is life at my house, except the husband/wife roles are reversed.
I’m disappointed to see that Canadian bureaucracy rivals that of the US, at least where it comes to obtaining a passport.