As I sit here in my stately, brick ranch, circa 1975 style abode, Dancing With The Stars on the teevee, the Manchild serenading us with Sunshine of Your Love, I am pondering something and laughing at something else…both having to do with Mr. Smiff.
I’ve told you about Mr. Smiff’s newly grown goatee. It’s looking good, however, I’m thinking perhaps the Smiffster Mister should perhaps invest in a little Just For Men and consider a Billy Ray type of trim on the ol’ goat’. (I must clarify here that I have not now, nor ever had any sort of hawts for Mr. Cyrus. Say what you will about him, but, I think he seems like a nice feller)
I love that style of goatee. I think if Mr. Smiff trimmed his up that way, it would make me giggle less when I wake up at midnight and find him sitting up in bed, with his drugstore glasses on, sawin’ away on the Soduku. It also would not remind me that I’m married to somebody closer to 50 than 40, even when he talks about “enjoying” the fruit he had earlier today. He hasn’t yet started watching “Murder She Wrote” reruns on the A & E, but, I expect that any day now. Hee.
I don’t know if I should tell the funny story. I better not. Let’s just say it had to do with unexpected mail and me having some ‘splainin’ to do. Any aspiring fiction writers want to try to write the story of Sista’s Splainin?
Oh and remind me to take pictures of the Pornographic Potatoes I ran across this evening. I think I could get as much publicity as the Nun Bun did with these babies.