Jimmy Dean is my boyfriend..

Last night J was multi-tasking (meaning working on two computers at once because they don't have enough power to do all that he needs to do on just one..) and I was reading a book with Gizmo in my lap. I was still shivering a little from the pistachio gelato I'd just scarfed down.. accept for my lap, which was toasty warm.

"You know, people who live in cold places, and don't own cats, are stupid.. It's like having your own personal hot water bottle that you don't even have to prepare.. just sit down and there it is. And they're snuggly too."
"Yeah, but they aren't very comfortable when you stick them up your butt."
"Uh... What? Why would you be sticking a hot water bottle up your butt?"
"Huh? I didn't say anything.."



And then, of course, he said something that was really hilarious that neither of us could remember this morning..

I woke up and stumbled my way to the bathroom to get in the shower, not realizing that it was already 8:30 (cause if you wake up after 8am you automatically smell better and don't need a shower.. and all my kids get up after 8, so they never need to be washed.. score.), this only mattered because it's Friday and I needed to take J to work so I could keep the van for Aidan's dance class this afternoon (and, you know, that other reason I mentioned just now). So I took a shower and got dressed and blah blah blah... (stop imagining me naked, you sickos)

Everyone was dressed, except Jo because she was wearing a blanket sleeper, and we made fun of the kids whining like they were going to melt because it was raining as we loaded into the car.

We drove through our lovely little college neighborhood and headed downtown.. I refrained from jumping up and down in my seat (J hates it when we do that when he's driving..) because, well, it's Friday and it was after 9 by now which meant.. GARBAGE TRUCKS EVERYWHERE. I love watching garbage trucks. I know. I'm such a 3 year old boy sometimes. (I was so bummed when I was at my parents' house on garbage day.. they do it the old fashioned way with some guy driving around in a big pick-up and dumping trashcans in the back by hand.. where's the fun in that??) Seriously, between the huge construction equipment and garbage trucks and stuff, it's a miracle I haven't totaled the van driving down town.

"Mom, Dad.. It looks like when we get home we'll need to take our garbage cans out." I swear, my kids are such geniuses. To figure that out all by themselves, that the garbage trucks are out and our cans are not.. Amazing.
"Nope. Sorry dude. Today is not our garbage day." These are not the droids you are looking for...
"Besides guys," J informs them, "when you get home, you get to have breakfast with Jimmy Dean."
Stunned silence... 'Who is Jimmy Dean??'
"You know? Your mom's boyfriend.."

"Do you remember what you said last night?.. After you talked about sticking cats up your butt?"
"Uh... What?.. I have no idea what you're talking about. I'd never say something like that.. and no, I don't remember what I said next.... Why?"
"No reason.. It was just really funny.. and I can't remember what it was. I wish I had Twittered it like I thought of last night, then I wouldn't have to remember.."
"Hm. Ok. In that case, I can think of some other things you should Twitter too."

Though, honeslty? whatever it was he said, as funny as it was, paled in comparison to the email he got from his grandpa in which he accused J of being a possibly gay Jewish rabbi.


see that guy on the right? it's his birthday today.. tell him happy birthday.. NOW!

and for those of you who were actually reading it, I promise I'll do the next part of my runaway story this weekend..