Add text***DISCLAIMER:  I realize my last post was about a photo of an old woman wielding weapons.  I also realize this post is about old people wielding different weapons:  their genitalia.  

I really don’t have a fetish, although I suspect that is a logical conclusion in light of these two back-to-back posts.  

But maybe, just maybe, yesterday’s post with a grandma packing heat was just a teaser for the real story:  old people prostitution.  END DISCLAIMER***

As you know, I like to keep updated on news and current events because I’m a super informed American.

Just to be clear, by “current events” I mean things like who got kicked off this week’s episode of The Bachelor and who is Kim Kardashian’s most recent poor dating choice.

In keeping with this trend, I got on line today to search for videos of puppies farting and then hiding from the smell.

Yes, I was at work, and yes, the conference call really was that boring.

As I was typing in “puppies and panty burps,” I noticed a headline on MSNBC strategically placed near the search bar.

The headline?  “Man, 75, Accused of Running Senior Prostitution Ring in New Jersey Senior Housing Complex.”

Yeah.  That happened.

What’s worse than a 75 year-old pimp running a sex ring of geriatric jezebels?  The mug shot of said pimp.  It truly looks like a morgue photo. Right?


Photo credit:

Grandma's cookiesApparently this is not a homicide photo, but the face of a guy who accepts social security checks in exchange for social diseases.

Naturally, this article derailed my search for flatulent puppies.  It also derailed my lunch, although I suddenly had a craving for Grandma’s Cookies.

As I returned from the vending machine, cookies in hand (and mouth), I got to thinking about a senior citizen sex ring.  I didn’t want to, but that didn’t matter.

I didn’t want to see the Viagra bottle in my dad’s bathroom drawer, but that didn’t stop my brother from showing it to me.  (He said “If I have to see it and suffer, so do you.”)

I have so many questions about a senior prostitution ring.  I figured you guys probably do too, so here are a few of my thoughts.  Feel free to provide answers, as this post is clearly an investigative journalism piece.

pelvis xray1.  Do the tricks have plastic hips?

I would think with the kind of bumping and grinding required for a senior prostitution ring, the hookers would need hips of steel.  Literally.

My 70 year-old neighbor can’t walk outside to get the mail without complaining her hips hurt.  She also complains about the “colored” people down the road, so she may not be the best example.

Either way, I would think that type of repetitive force would cause a ho to need a hip.

diaper pin2.  Just how much KY Jelly do they go through in a week?

Granted, I don’t have any experience in this department, but I would assume at a certain age, the prostitute would need a little more grease on the wheel before taking her for a spin.

3.  Does “the talent” wear granny panties?

Or maybe they’re just called panties?  Do they wear them, or do they just stick with Depends?  I’m not sure of the answer on this one.  I guess it just depends.  (hee hee)

credit card machine4.  Do they offer an early bird special?

Most elderly people I know are a fan of bargains and coupons.  It would be a great marketing tool to have a “bang one get one free” program.

Maybe like a punch card, but not a literal punch.  I suspect the pimp takes care of all the punching.

5.  How late are they “open?”

Considering dinner is usually served in the elder community around 4:30 and lights are out at 8:00 p.m. sharp, what time is this sexing going down?  Is 7:00 the witching hour?

close up of coin6.  Are they paid in shiny silver dollars?

Don’t all old men have silver dollars in their pockets?  (Note:  “Silver Dollar” is not a euphamism, although it should be.)

I know my grandpa always had a silver dollar and a smile waiting for me whenever I visited him.

Come to think of it, I hope that wasn’t the real reason he had so many of those coins.

7.  Do they seduce with Ben Gay?

When my muscles are sore, nothing smells better than the scent of Ben Gay.  It’s a smell of relief and relaxation.  In that same vein (no pun intended), is the art of senior seduction done with steroid cream?

oxygen8.  Do they share hits of oxygen when the deed is complete?

I can’t imagine many old farts want to lay around and spoon afterwards.  Rather, I suspect both are gasping for air and needing a bump of oxygen.

Do the grannies have that readily available or is there an extra charge?  Or maybe it’s part of the foreplay, while Jeopardy plays in the background, of course.

ambulance9.  Is a paramedic on hand?

I can’t imagine running this sort of osteoarthritic outfit would be safe without a medical professional overseeing it.

Okay, so obviously it wouldn’t be a professional person, as I doubt professional EMTs enjoy being on call for cougar coitus.

10.  How does the pimp enforce his territory?

I’m thinking this is the one time where a pimp walking with a cane is actually medically necessary.

caneWhat better way to ensure payment than with an orthopedic cane with multiple feet and rubber stoppers?

I guess that’s enough musings for one night, although I have many more questions and thoughts on this issue.

For now, I’ll just curl up on my davenport, snack on some peppermints, watch Mama’s Family and complain about those young whipper snappers ruining my lawn.

Granny's got a gunA friend of mine gave me a tear off calendar of hilarious photos from

Each day I tear off a new photo, laugh hysterically, and thank my lucky stars I wasn’t born into whatever family has the Christmas photo of a kid holding a dead fish.

I also secretly rejoice that one of my family photos isn’t adorning this calendar.  Second grade was a bad year for this girl.

Every now and again, a photo comes along that is just too funny not to share.  Yesterday, such a photo came to my attention.

I like to call this photo “Granny’s Got a Gun” and sing it to the tune of Aerosmith’s Janie’s Got a Gun.  When I saw it on my calendar the other day, I was struck by just how bizarre it was.

There are so many things going on in this picture that I truly don’t know where to start.  Her cankles?  The rug on top of the carpet?

There are just too many options so I will just pick a few and go for it.

Let’s start with the most obvious and glaring issue in this photo:  The plaid chair.  Seriously, that thing is hideous, and I doubt the chair was purchased for comfort.

I can practically feel that scratchy wool rubbing my legs as I try to relax and watch an episode of Matlock.

kitchen scratchingMaybe that’s why granny is rocking the pantyhose…she just can’t deal with the chafing the chair provides.  I get it.

But perhaps she should invest in a slip cover for that bad boy, or at least some gasoline and a match.  That chair needs to be put out of its misery.

And why is she holding a gun?  Who gave it to her? Was it a gift or is she using it to protect the chair from anyone smack talking it, or trying to douse it in bleach?

It looks like granny is taking her favorite show, Murder, She Wrote a little too seriously.

And why would she need a gun?  I can’t imagine anyone giving this woman a hard time, mostly because her skin is clear and she looks like she might be suffering from a bad case of gout.

Those cankles are large and in charge.

Perhaps the most disturbing question about this photo is why there is a silencer attached to the gun.  A silencer?!  Seriously?!  Does granny really need to silence her dirty deeds with a glock?

shhhhI’m pretty sure if she’s worried about the sound hurting her ears, she could just turn off her hearing aid and commit a crime in complete silence.

Is she worried about the person she shoots hearing the shot?  Does she not understand the sound of the shot is irrelevant if the only person to hear it is the dead guy?

The silencer suggests to me that granny isn’t the sharp shooter she wants us to think she is.

And what’s in her other hand?  Is that a grenade or a dead animal?  Both are viable options.  Is that her first kill?

It looks like the same goal could have been accomplished with a piece of cheese and a mousetrap, but granny is clearly a fan of deadly force.

That poor rodent didn’t know what hit him.

cactusAnd don’t let that smiling pumpkin on her sweater fool you.  It’s the middle of July and she’s wearing that sweater to throw you off her trail and make you think she has dementia, when all she really has is high blood pressure and a thirst for vengeance (and Ovaltine).

This granny is out for blood.  You can tell she’s a killer: just look at the dead plant in the background.

Rumor has it she bought that plant just to watch it die.  She’s obviously killed before and won’t think twice about doing it again, especially in the late night hour (which for her, is about 8:30 p.m.).

She’s clearly Livin’ on the Edge (see what I did there?) by putting that plaid chair with the patterned blue rug.

No sane person would do that, not only because it looks ridiculous, but also because it appears she put a rug on top of a rug on top of hardwood floors.

Bitch be crazy!

And don’t even think about forgetting to send her a thank you card for the $2 bill and handful of unwrapped, dusty, Werthers Originals she gave you for your birthday.

She’s packing heat and isn’t afraid to use it.  She’s also post menopausal, so she may literally be packing heat as well.

Maybe she heard about my new game of Google Image Roulette and she wants to play?

I’m not sure who took this photo, or why the person gave an old woman with poor vision a gun with a silencer, but I’m glad they did.  Without it, I wouldn’t have laughed as hard as I did when I saw it on my calendar.

I just hope granny doesn’t find this blog making fun of her photo or I will be in big trouble.  If she does, I just take her to Old Country Buffet for a late night dinner…at 4:30.

HappyMother's DayHappy Mother’s Day to me!  (Oh, and to you too….)

Okay, so I’m not a mother in the sense that I pushed kids out of my hoo ha, but I still think I’m a mother after all.

Granted, some people would agree I’m a mother, but would then add an unfortunate expletive after that.  Those people suck.  Duh.

Hoo-ha pushing or not, I’m a mother all year long.  No, not to human babies, although I swear I love them as much as if I’d delivered them myself.  Disturbing?  Absolutely.  True?  Totally.

I have three dogs that are the loves of my lives.  Oh, and my husband too.

My dogs are my babies, and I couldn’t possibly love them more.  As you know, I recently wrote a post about why my dogs are better than your kids.  You can check that out here.

Max in a tux with a smooch this pooch pillow

He’s such a ladies’ man.

Okay, so I’m not saying my dogs are better than your specific kids, but just kids in general.

So how am I mother, you ask?  (Aside from the a-forementioned curse word?)  Here are a few reasons:

1.  I deal with poop all the time.

No, it isn’t in a diaper, but I have to pick it up with a plastic bag, so I’m still hurting the environment the same way.

The bad part is that unlike babies who (hopefully) grow out of needing moms to tend to their bowels, my dogs will never become sufficient at picking up their own poo (with anything other than their mouths).

2.  I take them to daycare

Yes, I’m that mom, and if you took your dog to daycare, you would know why we do.  Best money ever spent, and I don’t even have to pack a lunch for them!

Much like mothers of human babies, I also worry about what they’re learning at daycare.  I fear one day Shady Jack will come home and drop the f-bomb.  I know that guy is learning bad language from all the other pups, as it certainly wouldn’t come from my angel.

3.  I’m up at least twice during the night with them

From whimpering to peeing to running out of water, I’m up with them a few times a night when all I really want to do is sleep.  Matt and I take turns pretending to be asleep so we don’t have to get up.  We’re just like a real family!

Jack in rescued collar4.  One of them is always going to the doctor

From the sniffles to randomly being attacked by two dogs, one of them is always going to the doctor for something.  We haven’t had a pink eye outbreak yet, but I know it’s coming.  (No thanks to daycare.)

5.  I spoil them with toys and treats they don’t need

Do they need baskets full of toys and an entire cabinet of treats?  Not anymore than your kid needs 10 Barbie dolls and a Malibu playhouse.

Yet, whenever I’m at a pet store, I feel obligated to get them something.  After all, they deserve it, right?

Bentley in bowtie6.  I talk to them in a baby voice.

I don’t want to admit this, but I do.  I sometimes talk to them like they’re babies and I ask them questions.  I don’t expect answers from them…yet…they’re only toddlers.

7.  I assume everyone wants to see pictures and hear stories about them.

Much like moms with their wallets full of baby photos, I’m the same way with my iPhone full of dog pics. Do you want to see them?  Not any more than I want to see the photo of your kid’s school picture.

He's actually running!

He’s actually running!

8.  I’m convinced they’re the cutest things ever and no one has cuter babies.

This is not up for debate.  I’m convinced of it because it’s 100% true.

9.  I will personally inflict pain to anyone who hurts them.

For reals.  Don’t even think about it.

10.  Our house is in constant disarray because of their toys and play time.

They can’t learn to put their toys away before getting out more, and I’ve often threatened to take them away if they don’t start taking care of them better.

Shady Jack in tuxI then burst into tears because I realize I’ve turned into my mother.

11.  They’re the reason we sometimes miss social events.

From missing a charity event because Bentley ingested stuffing from a toy, to missing a road trip with friends because Shady Jack’s junk was bleeding, we seem to miss events just as much as other parents do.

12.  Our friends are comprised of their friends’ parents

Just like soccer moms team up together in their velour track suits with their cup of espresso, dog moms team up together in their dog-walking clothes with their handful of poo bags.  It’s a shared bond, and no, you can’t join in.

13.  I correct other parents on their parenting styles

If I see someone handling their dog in a way I don’t agree with, I say something.  Did they ask me for help as I passed them while walking down the street?

No, but I’m sure they’re happier to have my wisdom, as I’m clearly an excellent dog parent.  Moms on the playground do the same thing.

Everyone hates those moms.

All 3 at photo shoot14.  I spend most of my disposable income on them

Have you seen the cute toys, bones, treats, collars, leashes and games you can buy for your dogs?  If you have, you definitely have a living room full of Angry Bird dog toys and doggie iPhones.

Bentley sleeping in red sheets15. Conflicting parenting styles are a source of arguments

At times, Matt and I will disagree about which way is the best way to discipline the dogs.  Obviously, since I’m always right, my parenting style is correct.

However, it takes him a minute before I beat him down he comes to his senses and realizes my way is the right way.

See?  I’ve convinced you why I’m a mother.  I’ve also convinced you I’m a crazy dog person who probably needs to get a grip on reality, but you knew that already.  You read this blog.

Much like all moms, I love my boys far more than I should, and I wouldn’t trade the three of them for anything in the world.  I couldn’t be happier with them, and I’m so lucky I get to be their mom.

And just like other moms, I don’t have a favorite.*

*I totally have a favorite.

300 315

Happy Mother’s Day to two of my favorite moms.  One of them gave birth to me and the other gave birth to the apple of my eye, my sweet niece, Miss K. The other handsome dudes in the photos are my dad and my brother, as if you couldn’t figure that out.

Matt and Lisa at MetMy husband and I are currently in one of our favorite places on the planet.  Where, you ask? Fabulous New York City!

Other acceptable answers would have been (1) Chipotle, (2) a rescue shelter filled with playful puppies and/or (3) Dairy Queen

We come to New York fairly regularly and although I’m sure we play the role of the hardened New Yorkers quite well, we enjoy doing touristy things too.

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk holding up my iPhone to gauge which way is west is something all New Yorkers do, right?

Musings at the MetToday we went to The Metropolitan Museum, or “The Met” for us New Yorker folks.  For some reason, Matt had never been there, and it had been years since I was there, so we decided to spend the day looking at old stuff.  (Not to be confused with looking at old junk.  That would be a horse of a different color and a very different afternoon.)

As we walked through the museum, my husband’s brilliance shined through once again in the comments he made.  He didn’t realize I was keeping track of his musings, but he never does because I’m super stealthy that way.

He may, however, think I have a bladder control issue because I’m always going to the restroom so I can update my notes in private.

Do you see what I do for you?  Do you see the kind of concern I cause my husband just so you can have a chuckle?  I hope you enjoy this.  You better.

1. Broken

Lisa: “Aw, that statue’s wiener fell off.”

Matt:  “You’ll have that every now and again.”

Matt with broken statue







2.  Ingenuity

Pointing to an opening in armor that was hanging in an exhibit

Matt: “That’s for his pee hole.”

Armor at the Met






3.  Sports Fan

Matt:  “It looks like that’s a sculpture of a guy sliding into home.”

sliding into








4.  Gun Enthusiast

While pointing to a display case with several guns missing

Matt:  “I don’t like that…”

Gun case at Met







5.  Perky

While pointing to an armored statue with a genital region pointing upward

Matt:  “That soldier sure is…um…peppy.”

Matt looking at peppy armor







6. Accuracy Expert

While looking at a mosaic with pygmies and a hippopatomous

Matt: “That hippo isn’t to scale.”

7.  Education Advocate

Lisa:  “Will you take a picture of me on the Met steps in my Blaire Waldorff headband so I can totally channel her?”


Gossip Girl outside the met









It was a fun afternoon at the Met, my friends.  Of course, it was made far more entertaining by my husband and his random comments, but that’s the case with most things, isn’t it?

May the 4th

It’s May the 4th, which apparently is Star Wars day because of the saying “May the force be with you.”

Force/fourth.  Get it?  Yeah, I know, it’s not the most brilliant of marketing ploys, but neither is Kay Jewelers and “Every begins with K” or the ever-brilliant Men’s Warehouse  “You’re gonna like the way you look.”

That’s like having a restaurant’s slogan be “You’ll leave here full, and probably won’t get food poisoning.”

Men’s Warehouse aims for the stars with their slogans.

Or maybe not the stars so much as the ceiling of their own warehouses, which from what I understand, is still pretty high.

So with Star Wars Day, I realized I have no knowledge of Star Wars other than the infamous “Luke, I am your father” quote that I like to yell into a fan every now and then.

What does it mean?  I don’t know, other than that I’m hilarious.

So I went to the most respected internet site on the planet for some answers; Wikipedia.

Wait, I guess I should clarify that when I say “the planet,” I’m referring to Earth.

That’s pretty snobby of me to assume you knew what planet I was talking about, especially since this post is loosely about Star Wars.

Earth, people.  I’m talking about Earth. Come back to it and pay attention.

informationWikipedia had a fair amount of information and I found a “plot summary” explaining the characters and the films.  I couldn’t even remotely understand it.  For real.

I was a science major and I have a law degree, yet I can’t flipping understand why everyone is fighting in this war of the stars.  Is it really a war or is that just media hype to drum up sales?

The title suggests it’s a full-on war and there are numerous wars happening at once.  However, I can’t find a reference to the price of oil in any of the Star Wars material, which suggests there is no war, as everyone knows wars are always about oil.

And why is it called Star Wars?  Shouldn’t it be Planet Wars?  Aren’t they on different planets instead of stars?

Am I missing something (except for the time I’ve wasted thinking about this topic)?

The Death Star is the ship that Darth Vader rides in, right?  Or is The Death Star an actual star that kills people?  Like maybe a throwing star but with a kick or a punch in the crotch too.

That sounds like a better name for a weapon than for a spaceship.

Is The Death Star where Darth Vader lives permanently?  Is that his home address?

If I were to mail him something, or if he were to order something from, would it go to the Death Star’s address or is it on-the-move?

If so, how would the postal worker know where to send it if the home is in fact, mobile?

Is The Death Star docked at a trailer park when it’s not in use?  If so, I expect to see it propped up on cinder blocks with a wooden cutout painting of a woman’s fat a$$ bending over and a sign in the yard that says “Don’t Tread on Me.”

I also don’t understand where Chewbacca comes in.  Apparently he’s a Wookie, which is some sort of animal.  I always thought a wookie was what you gave the nerdy kid at recess when no one was looking.

Or, what my husband a 3 year old would call his fun stick.

I also have no idea if it’s Hans Solo, or Han Solo.  Is there an “s” after his first name or not?  Is there an “s” but it’s silent?  So many questions.

May the fourth logoI’m not even sure if Han(s) Solo is a good guy or a bad guy, but he was played by Harrison Ford, who is usually a good guy, so I suspect I should be team Solo.

But then again, lately, Harrison Ford looks like he’s having a retirement-age crisis, so maybe I shouldn’t fall into the team Solo camp.

Wait, is that where the Solo cup brand name came from?  Maybe it did, as drinking beer from a red cup is the only way I can come close to enjoying this saga.

After searching the interwebs and thinking this through,here’s what I came up with on this topic:

Things I realized about myself and about Star Wars

1.  I don’t know where to go for answers to Star Wars questions, although I know that isn’t necessarily knowledge I would like to possess.

2.  My brain is incapable of understanding the plot, although a 4 year-old boy can follow it just fine.  However, joke’s on him, as I know how not to crap my pants (most of the time).

3.  The silent “s” is a real bitch.  I don’t even know how to make that plural and say “s-es”, which makes it a double bitch.  Thanks for that Han(s) Solo.

4.  There’s already too much drama in the solar system, so I can’t concern myself with more of it.  I ‘m not even sure if Pluto is a planet anymore.  I can’t keep up with that, so the dark side is just going to have to go on without me.  I will subscribe to its RSS feed.

5.  This was a super lame excuse for a blog post, but if you’re still reading it, then I guess you’re the sucker and the joke’s on you.

I can still buy Star Wars flannel sheets though, right?  They’re comfortable and I shouldn’t have to suffer just because I can’t understand Steven Spielberg’s logic on inter-planetary wars.

May the FOURTH be with you!

Lindsay Lohan face

Photo credit:

As I’m sure you all know, Lindsay Lohan was supposed to begin her court-ordered mandatory 90 day stint in rehab today.  I’m sure you know this because you all follow the story closely.

I follow it not because I’m so much concerned with her well-being, but I like to make jokes about what random animal her face looks like with whatever new botox/surgery she undergoes.

Fish.  This time it’s a fish.

Lilo was ordered to report to a rehab facility today or face going to jail.

Fortunately for you, I am super connected, and snagged the intake form from the Newport Beach Facility where she was supposed to check in.****

Of course, she didn’t stay long, and bailed shortly after arriving.

Un-named Newport Beach Rehab Facility

“So when it doesn’t work, no one can name us!”

**Specializing in celebrity rehab and train wreck survivors**

Intake Form

Lindsay Lohan intake checklistTo be completed by staff

Impression of patient:  Lilo appears to have an inflated sense of self.  She is also delusional and believes she is (1) relevant and (2) famous for being talented.


Patient’s problems:  Too numerous to document on this page.  See attached binder.


Check all that apply

√       Hypersensitive to criticism

√       Full on Crazytown resident

√       In need of more than just drug rehab

√       Has ugly hair


Items patient brought

√        Baggage filled with daddy issues and identity confusion

√        Notebook with doodles of genitalia of both sexes

√        One Amy Winehouse CD “Rehab”

√        One bag of necklaces, many of which appear to belong to other rehab patients

√        5 bottles of generic bleach, to be used to maintain hideous “blonde” hair

√        Cosmetic bag filled with shattered dreams

√        Names of the five people who watched her most recent movie, Liz and Dick (these are the names of people in a coma.)

√        Lifetime supply of orange-tinted self tanning lotion

√        Bill from Chateau Marmont Hotel for $46,350.04, with Lindsey’s writings in the margin at what appears to be her attempt at addition and subtraction.

  • NOTE:  All of her calculations are wrong.

√        10 cartons of Newport cigarettes, which is ironic, as she is checking into a Newport Beach facility.  *We believe this is her attempt at sarcasm.*

√        NO evidence of the patient’s pride, dignity or self esteem.


Focus of treatment

√        Encourage Lilo to join reality.

√        Convince  her this dress doesn’t look good on anyone.

Photo credit Barraza/WENN

Photo credit


To be completed by patient

When did you first start using drugs and alcohol?



What substances do you use?

thick book**A copy of the Pharmacists Manual to Prescription Drugs is attached as the answer.**


Where do you see yourself in five years?

Banana snow cone


What is your financial situation?

Rolled up 100sI use $100 bills to snort coke smell roses.


Could you be pregnant?

Could you? (accompanied by a drawing of a middle finger)

middle finger drawing


Do you require any dietary accommodations?

Cigarettes.  I require cigarettes.  Lots of cigarettes.


Political Party

There’s a party?  Where?  When?  Do I have to wear panties?  I’m there.

 champagne bottles

Would you like a firm pillow, a soft pillow, or one that’s in the middle (a.k.a. “Just right”)?

I don’t make good decisions, so you decide.  But bring Goldilocks too.  She’s hot and I wanna spoon her. I call “big spoon!”

housekeeper with pillows

Intake Remarks:  Patient says she’s famous and starred in Herbie:  Fully Loaded.  I’m not sure about the film, but there’s no doubt this patient is “fully loaded.”

To be completed by staff

What is the patient’s biggest obstacle to treatment?

She is probably going to have issues with…..shit….she just took off…wait a minute…crap!  That b*tch stole my necklace!


****No I didn’t.  This is a totally made up intake form.  But aren’t you impressed with my questions?  Me too.

Photo courtesy of Marvel Studios

Photo courtesy of Marvel Studios

grown man wearing 3d glassesMy husband is a movie reviewer.  I know, you’re jealous, but there’s more.  He gets to see movies for free before they come out. Mind = blown.

It’s a pretty sweet gig and yet another reason he’s such a catch. Unfortunately for him, I don’t really like movies, and the only reason I go is (1) because I want to stuff my face with buttery popcorn and/or (2) I get to see Ryan Gosling without a shirt.  A combination of (1) and (2) is perfect.

(As a side note, engaging in (1) above usually leads to #2…if you know what I mean.)

Anyway, last night my husband went to the screening of Iron Man 3.  Yeah, he’s a big deal.  Sure, it was on our wedding anniversary, but considering I was at home coughing up part of my lung and gasping for air, I didn’t mind he went to the movie.

More oxygen in the house for me.

Because I’m an amazingly supportive wife (and because I wanted to avoid “sexy time”), I asked him about the movie and if he liked it.

Before he answered, I started a coughing fit of epic proportions.  It wasn’t just a few lame coughs.  When I do something, I go all out.  It was a “I think I might vomit and my head might explode” kind of coughing fit.

You totally know what I’m talking about.

As soon as the coughing tapered off, my husband and I engaged in the following conversation.

Matt:  “I got some really cool Iron Man 3d glasses at the movie that I get to keep forever.”

(As if I thought they would only allow him to take them home for the weekend.)

The coveted "classic colors" glasses.

The coveted “classic colors” glasses.

Lisa:  “When will you ever use those 3d glasses?”

Matt:  “Um, I will use them when I go to see 3d movies, duh.” he said, as if I asked the dumbest question in the world, and not as if he was an adult overly excited about free 3d glasses.

Lisa: “Don’t theaters give you 3d glasses for free whenever you go to a 3d movie?” I asked, once again questioning why I married this guy.

Matt: “Yeah, but the ones they give you aren’t cool.  These are cool.  I got to pick mine out of 6 choices.”

Lisa:  “They seriously had 6 different options of Iron Man 3d glasses?” I questioned, all of a sudden understanding where our simple dog, Max, got his “simpleness.”

Matt:  “Heck yeah they had 6 different kinds.  I picked the classic colors,” he responded, as if anyone who picked anything other than the classic colors option was a stupid piece of crap.

Lisa:  “Did you have to rifle through bins to find the one you wanted?  Did you try them on to see which one looked best like you do at Walmart?  Were there mirrors or did you have to take selfies on your phone to see how you looked in each pair?”

I asked these tough questions because I could picture my husband picking through a cardboard box looking for “classic colors” and yelling “Sa-wheat!” when he found them.

Matt:  “No.  I didn’t have to look around.  I knew I wanted classic colors,” he said in a kind of quiet voice.

Although he was soft spoken about this, his tone suggested his behavior was the most logical thing in the world…you know…the most logical thing for a grown man to already have it figured out which pair of free 3d glasses he wanted to use so he could watch a free movie about a comic book character.

Yup.  Totally logical.

Happy anniversary to my wonderful husband! Why he puts up with my abuse, I will never know.

He had his regular glasses on before I took this picture and I walked over and put the Iron Man ones on over his glasses to which he responded "Don't do that, it will look stupid." Yes, because a grown man eating a donut dunked in milk while wearing Iron Man 3d glasses isn't ridiculous enough.

He had his regular glasses on before I took this picture and I walked over and put the Iron Man ones on over his glasses to which he responded “Don’t do that, it will look stupid.” Yes, because a grown man eating a donut dunked in milk while wearing Iron Man 3d glasses isn’t ridiculous enough.