When Being Called A Weed Eater Means I Love You

by Leslie

On our second date, Dave called me the wrong name. He called me Tracy. My name is Leslie. He spent the next three days trying to convince me that he wasn’t thinking of another woman, but just had some trouble when it came to moving the thoughts from his head out through his mouth. He was pretty convincing because less than a year later we were married and having a baby. Still, Dave does have some issues with words. I’m not sure it’s a problem with expression - he gets his point across pretty well - I think it has more to do with tact. As if this wasn’t an adequate example of what I’m saying, here are a few more gems my husband has uttered recently.

“Honey, when it comes to sex you’re like a weed eater. You’ve got to be primed.”

“That made my big toe shoot up in my boot!” (said after sex, in the style of Little Richard)

“You were snoring last night. It was weird. You sounded like the alien in Predator.”

“When I say the food stinks, I don’t mean it’s bad. I mean it smells.”

At least he’s honest. Right?

Posted in Mommy's Stuff, David |

Comments

2 Cool Kids Came To Play

Lynda on October 7, 2006 2:59 am
You need to be primed, eh? Well, as long as you understand him.
Petite Mom blog on October 8, 2006 10:24 am
LOL. Oh my! You need to be primed…that’s hilarious. My hubs says some weird stuff too like that..maybe all guys are like that.