Throughout our relationship there's always been something a little puzzling about us ( I mean besides the obvious). We have a little trouble putting our arms around each other's waists when walking down the street and we can't do certain things standing up no matter how hard we’ve tried. Lord have we tried! I’ve been bent over mini fridges, bars, kitchen counters, arm chairs, couches---pretty much everything but the kitchen sink. But the other day, the truth was revealed to me, and being the big mouthed know it all that I am...I had to fill John in on my discovery.

It all started with the Eagles' tickets that we had on Monday. I brought John clothes from home so that he could just change at work and we could take the subway to the game. Well, I brought him holey jeans and so we had to make a quick pit stop in Macy's. It was there that I learned the truth...Iam not the stumpy one! (You don't know how happy that makes me to write that sentence). The truth is, I was shocked to see that as we were frantically perusing the aisles/piles of jeans that John kept looking at the 30 inch length jeans. "What?" "What’s this I thought?" I kept my lips pursed and my eyes down until we found the perfect jeans for him...then I unleashed my revelation.
"John," I said ever so sweetly,"are you sure that you a 30 length?I mean, you are 6 foot 1 and all..." I batted my lashes knowing that in a few short seconds the truth would be revealed in a way that Geraldo never could manage (think Al Capone’s empty vault). He responded with a quick, "Yeah" as he hurriedly walked down the streets. I said (knowing that triumph and glory was mine), "I wear 33's or 34's. (deep breath and wide grin) That makes you the stumpy one!!"

And it's true. He's the stumpy one. And now he hates it. He whines while we lie in bed..."I don't wanna be the stumpy one." And I do the best I can when confronted with such a statement. I say, "Too bad--you’re the stumpy one!" and then I cackle myself to sleep. To confirm the longness of my legs we did a very scientific measuring using our forearms (because really cool married couples measure each other using cubits--the old Egyptian form of measurement) to measure from hip to toe. Again I won.. But to be magnanimous I said to him as I rubbed his pouty face, " It's ok, not everyone can be the short chubby version of the supermodel...I just have really, really long legs...whereas you...you have an incredibly long torso. So good night Torso Boy."

It's so good not to be the stumpy one!

John and I went to the Eagles game last night, where we got to hang out in the club suites and hobnob with the lucky folks in there all because John has been doing such a good job at work (my man can make a budget, yo), his bosses gave him tickets!! Being productive individuals at work seems to be paying off! It was awesome...a little man came and gave us all the food and drinks that our hearts could've desired (and even packed us a doggy bag to go since we were the only people who stayed until the end).

It'll be such a shame when we have to go back to being the normal pleebs out in the cheap seats, getting rowdy and screaming at players and spectators alike.

I've tasted the good life.

Now it's time to get my tired ass to the grocery store and get ready for night class. Posts MUST follow, I'm just a little sleepy and I need to get back on my game...the work game, the back to night class game, the wifey game...It's such a shame because this weekend, I completely perfected the lay on the couch and vegetate game.

Oh...is it healthy to be jealous of your husband because he gets to read every day on his commute?? Because I'm really jealous.

I came out with my white tank top that said, "Unwrap Me"...a tank top that screams, "I didn't really need to spend $29.50 on a Kfed wannabe tshirt" but I did...but in my great defense, I bought the shirt three years ago for my first Christmas Party.

The point I'm try to make is that my breasts strain against the shirt, my nipples darken the whiteness and make it impossible to go without a bra. I heaved them, I sucked in as much as humanly possilble so that the washtub looked a little more washboard. I got...
"They better not lose to the worst team in the league."

In other new...
John's pretty much the most attentive lover I'ver ever met ( the words attentive and lover make me want to gag...but I didn't want to say that he picked me up and spread my thighs across our bar...but that's what you wanted to hear, isn't it? You sick bastards)
I know plenty 'bout sexing...
I know nearly nuthin' 'bout football...

I will learn.

That bastard (known as my husband) stole my NFL virginity...willingly...
Next year, I'm totally going to blow him out of the water in his fantasy football league.

Good luck Johnny. Good fucking luck.