He lurked in the shadows, waiting for the chance to pounce. His prey, unaware of his presence, innocently eat their food. He waits for the perfect timing.
Then, without any notice, he pounces out at them and yells-
“Why, are we having THIS for supper?! Where are my socks?! Why aren’t the cars moved?!
Yes, it’s an episode of When Husbands Attack.
I’m not really sure WHATS up his butt. Maybe it’s that corn cob I stuck up it the other day-Wait. No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t stick anything up his butt in the last 3 days. But, apparently, he thinks I did because he’s been on mine.
This started on Monday morning and it was like he went through this Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing over night and now I’m waiting Jack Nicholson to walk in with an axe and say, Hereeeeeeeeeeee’s, Johnny!
Even this morning his usual, Good morning, Tess! was exchanged for, Where’s my pj pants? You always move them when you clean. Where. Where. Whereeeeeeeee are they?
I so politely answered ( under my breath), Why Honey, they are up your ass where I stuck everything else. Don’t you remember?
I will give the man until today to get over this frickin’ male PMS and if he doesn’t, I’m going to do a Lorena Bobbit and when he demands where his penis is, I’m going to tell him to bend WAY over and take a good hard look.