Tag Archives: Laughing

Hi again.

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I am a horrible person, I get it. I realize I am neglecting my blog in a horrible way 😦 Hopefully, everyone can forgive me and will still continue to read my blog.

In order to make up for my lack of activity I present to you one of Fiancé and I’s amusing conversations via text, during the day.

Back story: This conversation was had yesterday, when I did not have to substitute teach.

Me: In other news, I ripped part of my jeans on the inside thigh area. I knew it would happen soon enough, they are so worn down.

*Over an half later*

Me: Glad you care about my pants.

Fiance: I’m sorry for your loss. My prayers are with you in this difficult time. Ripping pants so near the holidays is always so sad.

I would tell you that I replied saying, “Lol you’re awesome. But it is sad! I loved these jeans, so comfy.” But, I feel like Fiancé’s comment is a nice way to end.

As a side note, I feel the need to defend how I ripped my jeans. They were super worn in, on the inside thigh, and I was sitting on the couch Indian style (I’m glad we are raised to call that sitting position something that is offensive) and stretched my leg out. And then rip.

I still went to the grocery store with a semi-hole in my jeans.

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I Giggle When He Is Sick

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So the Fiancé is sick, and I feel guilty saying this, but I often smile or giggle when I think about it. Why? O, I’ll tell you why. Fiancé is the type of person that always says, “I never get sick.”

I, unfortunately, am the type of person that gets sick at least once a year, and that’s not including my once a winter sinus infection.

When he gets sick of course I take care of him and will buy him medicine. But, by golly, my brain is constantly saying, “karma’s a bitch.”

Rata-TOOT-e

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Ahh, the end of summer. I hate to see you leave, yet I love fall; so not really.

I went grocery shopping on Tuesday and decided I would make ratatouille for dinner that night. (Sidebar: Please tell me I am not the only person that finds it strange that they bagged my flour with my milk. I mean, what if the milk leaked?!) since it is a nice summery meal but still warm and hearty. It is delicious, has all veggies, and I had never made if for Fiancé before. Perfect!

So I am going to town, cooking up a storm. All while Fiancé sits on his butt and watches tv. Yeah, don’t worry. I don’t need your help!

So dinner is finally ready and he looks at the food like it is an alien (he’s never had ratatouille or couscous, but thankfully eats anything and everything) and blobs it on his plate. Dinner happened, everything was fine.

And then it started.
The stench.
The farts.

Yes, yes it started. Although he was not alone on this ship, I had the joys of listening to his magical fireworks the entire night.

Did you know that here are multiple ways boys enjoy passing gas? Because there are. There is just the regular way of sitting there and pretending like nothing happened, the silent but deadly way (in which they start to laugh once they can smell it), the laughing hysterically when it’s really loud, and the lean on one ass cheek and lift the other one up to let it rip. And those are just his “usual” ways. I don’t play along with the pull-my-finger trick, so he doesn’t even bother with that one anymore.

I blame the vegetables.

Needless to say, I won’t be making this meal anytime soon.

At Least He Makes Me Laugh

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My friend also started a blog and I’ve deemed her my blogging buddy. Go read nows! www.nowandgwen.com Don’t be afraid to subscribe to her blog or mine!

So I spent the majority of Sunday painting with Fiancé. It really started to feel like it was never going to end (but it thankfully has) and I started to get a little on the short tempered side. In my defense, the painting started a month ago.

Needless to say, I often believe Fiancé enjoys pushing my buttons sometimes because he wants attention like a 5 year old. I may or may not do the same thing.

Don’t judge us. We’re strange people, as you are really about to find out.

Naturally we started to bicker. About what, I have absolutely no idea. So basically it was the most important thing ever. But, it somehow ended with me saying something like, “I don’t laugh at your jokes anymore” and he replied with a, “You sometimes do.”

Now don’t get me wrong, Fiancé is a funny, funny man. That is something that I absolutely love about him. Even when I am mad at him I often have to suppress the laughter. And this is becoming even harder now that he is actually physically in front of me all of the time (I was at OSU last year when he moved up here last year).

And yet again, there went another moment of foreshadowing. If only I had the book on my life to prepare myself.

We continued on for awhile, maybe at least 10-20 minutes when I started to say something and looked up at him.

And then I saw it. Midsentence.

I stopped talking and literally just stared, with my mouth open like “uhh….what?!” And then I finally found my voice. “What. The. Hell…”

And then it starts. The crazy, “OMG take me to a psych ward, I am about to lose it, I am going to marry a crazy person, HELP ME” laugh. At this point Fiancé just loses it and starts to laugh, “See! I can still make you laugh!!”

Folks, Fiancé had taken the yellow paint we were using and placed a dot on each of his man nipples. Who does that?

Apparently he does.

And then I took my paint brush and painted a small stroke on his chest.

Yeah, I have a feeling we will be just fine in this thing called marriage.

P.S. I am going to Maryland for the weekend for my cousins wedding. We are driving the whole way there with my parents, Fiancé, my sister, and her 7 week old son. I’m sure I’ll be back with some awesome stories-since the usual trip will take much longer because of my nephew. Be back on Tuesday.