Tag Archives: Love

Valentine’s Day at the Awful House

These are places I hate to go – listed in order of least to most hated.

  1. The flea market
  2. The state fair
  3. Waffle House
  4. Chuck-E-Cheese
  5. Golden Corral

The common denominators? Pickup trucks and dirty fingernails.

My husband loooooooooves Waffle House.

(He actually loves all of the places listed above.)

He likes the cheap coffee, the single-ply napkins, and Patty the waitress with only two teeth.

I don’t have anything against food that’s been smothered or chunked, it’s just not my first choice. Or my fifteenth.

But I really love my husband. And sometimes I am an awesome wife.

 

Oh, yes I did.

On Valentine’s Day, certain Waffle Houses serve a reservation-only, candle-lit dinner.

Complete with black plastic table-clothes, faux flower centerpieces and purple napkin roses.

Not a fruit or vegetable in sight.

Colt had grilled chicken, hash browns and root beer.

(Somewhere a bra-less vegan Earth Mama just passed out reading this.)

The happiness on my boys’ faces was worth all the grease.

And how great is the commemorative Waffle House picture frame?!!

However you celebrate it – Happy Love Day!

 

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My Husband is Head Over Hanes for Me

underwearHusband: “Your underwear are heinous.”

Me: “What are you talking about – these are from Victoria’s Secret.”

Husband: “Well, I hope you got your senior citizen discount when you bought them.”

Me: “Just because they are full coverage doesn’t mean they aren’t sexy. Look at this fun pattern!”

Husband: “Mmmm, nothing like faded pink elephants on boxer briefs to turn me on.

And look… there’s a hole in the back…”

Shortly after we got married, I threw in the towel. And by towel, I mean T-back.

I happily traded in the polyester g-strings of my youth for FULL-coverage cotton panties fit for the elderly.

I never looked back.

I guess it’s a little bit sad. To give up the stuff of legends and Sisqo lyrics.

I like it when the beat goes da na da na
Baby make your booty go da na da na
Girl I know you wanna show da na da na
That thong th thong thong thong

That song was so hot. I remember standing in line at Sam Goody for the single on CD.

Of course, I told my parents I was studying for the AP exams.

Eukaryotic cell structure? (Shhhhhhh. Dumps like a truck, truck truck.)

By 2006, the black fishing line wrapped around my rear had done its due diligence – reeled in the man of my dreams.

Less than a decade later, I was rocking faded, holey grannies like Def Leppard rocked the Ages.

Even the elastic was worn out.

And yet, it didn’t occur to me to buy anything new.

I couldn’t justify spending money on undergarments. I’d rather spend it on shoes or nail polish or a new Michael Kors wallet!

But Todd was right – the situation was dire.

So I suggested he go pick something out.

Surely, he’d go to an expensive lingerie store, I thought. Choose something from his fantasy playbook – with lace, and pink, and frills!!!!

Two days later amidst the turkey and half-and-half, I saw it…

The Hanes Ultimate Comfort multi-pack of 5.

From (gasp) the grocery store?

I didn’t even know they sold underwear at the grocery store.

Me: “This is your solution for my underwear problem?”

Husband: “Babe, they are high cut briefs. They’re gonna be so hot.

And they’re solid colors – no weird patterns. I thought you’d like the bright pink and purple!”

Me: “Well they’re size large, so they’re not gonna fit. They’ll be HUGE on me.”

That turned out to be untrue.

I modeled a purple pair from the pack, and his eyes lit up with pride.

“See! Those look great!” he exclaimed.

It must have been worse than I thought, for supermarket underwear to be so GREAT.

I appreciated his practicality and frugality, really I did.

And I’m glad he didn’t expect me to be parading around like a Thong Song hood rat – post C-section.

Turns out he just wants to see me in something that fits. That shows off a little leg. That’s clean and mended.

Turns out, he’s head over Hanes for me.

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