On The Next Intervention...

The mister and I have the most disgusting habit.

Every Friday it hits, without fail.



Usually it's of the Big Mac variety of craving. But just last Friday found me shoving Chicken McNuggets in my face so frantically that the last one was still hot when I got to it and my fries even managed to be on the still extremely warm side when I got to them. Salty, fried goodness.

The above picture happened just today. And this is the mister moments before the interventionists burst through the door:



Actually, they never showed. He was just upset that I made him pause. It was after Noon afterall. I'd made him wait long enough for the crack with special sauce on a sesame seed bun.

For more on our Mac Attack and what we're up to check us out at the house that booms built.

Where I Am

Hey all... I just thought I'd take a moment to share with anyone who might still be subscribed.

Jason and I have a new blog. So come by and check us out. It is by no means as exciting as "all of this" (big hand wave in this blog's general direction). But? It is mostly everything we've been up to lately.

Enjoy.

Jenny Lawson Wants To Sleep With My Husband Or She Wants Me To Perform A Prison Style Shanking For Her, Either Way I'm Fine

The other day I noticed that my husband had tweeted something about how he didn't understand why everyone would hate The Bloggess. I was a little perplexed and told him that was ridiculous, who would hate her? But then she responded:



Moments later I get this in my inbox:



So I DM'd the mister and told him she was following me all of the sudden and he said "I told her that you like to shank people." Totally true and fair enough. But I was onto her (click to read):



And then she was quiet.

Until today:




If my husband comes home smelling like Crazy and Wolverines, I'm going to be very upset. However, if this is just a ploy to get to me and my shanking abilities, well... All you had to do was ask because I won't hesitate to cut a bitch.

Okay, that's a lie. I totally hesitate, every time, but that is just so I make sure I hit a major organ.

If you're going to do it, do it right.

All of this really happened, except for the part where she wants to sleep with my husband, I made that part up. However, I know the rest of you do. I'm onto you.

And By Hostage I Mean He's In The Basement Watching TV

When the mister and I were at lunch today we overheard a news story about someone being held hostage for 18 years. And he was all, "how can you be held hostage for 18 years"?

And that's when I said, "Easy, I've held you hostage for the last five. You call it marriage, I call it "hostage negotiation."

He laughed so he didn't believe me, but I have terms if anyone wants to hear them. My "husband" is being held hostage until at least one of the following things happens:

This man gets his own show:



or


They bring this show back with Sam still traveling:



or finally:



That's right, somebody needs to reanimate at least half of this picture and put a zombie ass Airwolf on the air. Mostly because there is nothing wrong with a reanimated Ernest Borgnine that I can figure out.

I feel the way you are looking at me and I don't know WHAT your problem is.

Oh and he's not REALLY being held hostage. I think he likes it here and the idea of these shows being on the air.

Also? There are not enough shows with eye patches these days.


***

I kind of think they missed the real opportunity with the movie Roadhouse, because Patrick Swayze and Sam Elliot wearing tight pants and kicking beer bottles out of ruffians hands was legendary.

If they just added a bearded Kenny Loggins to the crime fighting team we would have had the BEST action hero trio in history.



PS: Evidently I have to clarify, just because Ernest Borgnine is alive doesn't mean he doesn't need to be reanimated. Plus? Who wants to spell out Jan Micheal Vincent all the time? I have to use this joke more than once, you know.