Let me just start by tell you that I love my husband and he is a really good guy.
But really, isn't it MORE fun when I tell you about the other stuff?
So I was at Costco today and I wanted to get Troy some new jeans. He currently has three pairs of jeans. Two are ones he has had for probably 10 years or more. They are his work jeans, his lounge around the house jeans, his I have a big hole in the butt jeans. They have definitely seen better days!
The other pair of jeans are ones that I bought for him a couple of years ago. They are the nice jeans that he only wears when we are on a date (so not too often). And they have recently become known as his "skinny" jeans.
Hence, the reason that I am buying him new jeans.
Anyway, I called him from the store and said, "Troy, I need to know your CURRENT waist size so that I can buy you a new pair of jeans."
His reply was, "Well, I'd like to think that I am a 34..."
Yes, well, I'd like to think that I am a size 2, but then there's this little thing called REALITY.
So after calling Troy numerous times today, for really no good reason, I finally asked him, "Honey, how many times do I need to call you before you start to get annoyed?"
"None." He said.
"None?" I asked. "I don't EVEN have to call you and you're annoyed?"
"Oh, wait...that's not what I meant!"
Yeah, I know. But what fun would it be if I told him that?