Few weeks ago my photographer friend Jen from high school sent me a message on facebook asking if I would be interested in doing a “Boudoir” photo shoot. I responded with “Bummer, we just had our family photos taken!” Jen then informed me that “Boudoir Photographs” are sexy pics intended for your significant other. Oh gross. We totally did not take sexy family pictures.
Christmas shopping for Mike has always been a wee bit challenging considering his hobbies consist of teeth and golf. A couple years ago I was going to buy Mike a hairless cat named “Dermis” for Christmas after I discovered a set of pots and pans he thoughtfully purchased for me. I changed my mind however, when I found out that this particular breed of feline needs to be bathed frequently. Ring Ring. “Hello…Hi Dad! …….Oh nothing much, just washing my smelly cat, she really needed it. Mike will not even play with her when she gets like this. Uh-huh, you are right I am a little busy….Okay. Talk to you later. Tell Kathy Hi!”
The following year I bought the naughty Mrs. Claus outfit but accidentally broke the dryer when I washed the fur trimmed panties and they became “lodged in the motor, axel, brakes something blah blah blah that will be $400 Ma’am, here’s your panties back. Merry Christmas.” That whole outfit was a hot mess upon reflection when I discovered “One Size Fits All Pasties” is a giant lie. I decided that Mike would like nothing more than to pay to see me naked and so I made the appointment to have my pictures taken.
I then drove down to the office smugly thinking how liberated I was, how my body was a sensual work of art, that the intimacy and thoughtfulness of my gift would bring my lover to tears. I smiled coyly at Mike. He said “I didn’t know you were coming in today! Your Christmas present is here so I guess you can go ahead and see it.” Annnnd, then he pulled out a giant box containing a piece of unrequested exercise equipment. I immediately leapt into his arms, sullied with unbridled passion and began to undress him. Kidding. I went home and ordered him a gigantic, two-story blow-up reindeer.
Anywho, we have some really great friends who happen to be Mormon. Apparently “Moroni” is the name of their archangel superhero and since “Moroni” also happens to be my last name they were duped into believing our friendship was fate. Fortunately, our friends are super funny and don’t seem to mind that we are the Italian, antithesis version of archangels. They also do not care that I changed the name of their horny labradoodle to “Crotchsniff.” And I don’t care that my daughters are trying to turn Mormon because for the last couple of weeks I have had free babysitting on craft night at church.
I actually went into the church and helped glue some Jesus(es) to their mom, Mary, when my friend was running behind. I felt all wholesome until I realized I had mixed up all the Jesuses and I did not know which Mary they belonged to so I just started gluing babies to random Marys hoping the kids wouldn’t notice. My friend and I were in absolute hysterics. Last night was a Mormon ornament exchange party. I dropped my kids off, waved bye and went home to hang with Mike.
Mike asked in what I perceived to be a very judgmental tone “So let me get this straight, our kids are becoming Mormon so you can get free babysitting?” “Yes.” “Okay well do you want to go fool around since we are alone?” I stared at my husband, has he no conscious? “I can’t. God is watching.” XO
PS: This is my friend Julie’s cat I was playing with today. Yes. I totally just wrote that. Her cat’s toy totally looks like a human cat toy. Gross.