Today is our fourth wedding anniversary! Ryan has woken up next to me for 1,454 mornings (I subtracted the whopping six days we have spent apart) without kicking me our of the bed.
This may not seem special, but when you consider what I have put the man through in that time it is a rather more impressive accomplishment.
I once had a dream that I was biting his shoulder. In the dream I was smelling his shoulder and it smelled so sweet and inviting I wanted to eat it up!
The next morning Ryan awoke to a strange looking purple mark on his shoulder and naturally, he assumed he had cancer. He asked me if I thought the purplish mark looked suspicious and being the caring wide I am I answered in the affirmative, because in my mind I could not possibly believe I had really gnawed on him in my sleep.
Ryan ended up sitting on a cold table at the doctors office awaiting a melanoma diagnosis only to be told that it looked like a bruise. Later that night he reported back to me that the mysterious mark was diagnosed as a bruise. Then he asked why I was making such an odd, contorted, guilty looking face.
“I dreamt I was biting you, okay. I didn’t really think I really did, but I guess you were just too damn delicious to resist.” Luckily I wear an ever so sexy night guard, which I credit with not breaking his skin. However for some reason that did not seem to assuage the humiliation and annoyance Ryan felt at me for letting him go to the doctor for a wife induced bite bruise.
And that is how I let my poor husband believe he had cancer, because I couldn’t accept that I would have really masticated his shoulder in real life. But I did. Sorry honey, I love you. Happy Anniversary you delicious, delicious man, you! Thanks for not kicking me out of bed, yet.
Can we just establish that pie is a breakfast food? And while we are at it can we add cake, brownies, and gummy bears to that list as well.
I love my husband and he is an incredibly bright and gifted person. Except that he is totally wrong.
I somehow seem to have married someone that believes breakfast foods should contain healthy shit like protein and vitamins. He is clearly unenlightened.
The truth is that breakfast is just delayed dessert from the night before. Therefore it is completely appropriate to have your morning cake, pie, brownies, and/or gummy bears and eat them too. To be clear, this rule even applies in the event that you had dessert after dinner the night before. That just makes breakfast dessert a continuation of dinner dessert with a sleep pause for digestion.
This is how life works, people.
Can someone explain it to my skinny-ass husband? For some reason he doesn’t seem to understand it when his plus-size wife explains it to him.
I have a problem.
I keep eating ants.
The first time you eat ants you can just call it a fluke or a channeling of Andrew Zimmern. The second time you eat ants, you have an ant eating problem. The first step is to admit it.
Hello, my name it Kelly and I am an antololic.
My first encounter with ants occurred in my parents backyard. I wish I could tell you I was below the age of ten, but unfortunately I was around 30. My parents were out of town and I was using their pool with a few friends. I was making and ingesting vast quantities of strawberry daiquiris.
As the night went of things got more and more blurry. I was on perhaps round five when I picked up my poolside glass and thought, “Huh, I didn’t realize this daiquiri mix had strawberry seeds in it.” I tossed back a few more before the night was over.
Yeah, those were not seeds. When the night came to an end I noticed that all the seeds were trying to crawl out of the glass. I have no idea how many ants I swallowed that night, but hey, you know those little ants were drunk as hell too so they didn’t feel a thing either.
Alas, the preceding was becoming just a foggy memory until it all came flashing back a few days ago while I was making my coffee. I have one of those machines that has the little water tank on it and makes one cup at a time. I was just going back for my second cup that morning when I noticed that my water level was a little low. I pulled out the tank to top it off when behold: half an ant colony was floating around like it was their own goddamn little hot tub.
I had eaten ants again, and this time I was stone cold sober.
So I am questioning my life choices a little bit this morning.
I quit my stable and quasi-decently paying job as a teacher to become a writer. However I knew I needed to get out of the house otherwise I would become some sort of agoraphobic cat lady that wears mis-buttoned cardigans and hides from the doorbell.
In order to minimize this risk I got a part time job as a baker/cake decorator/wedding consultant. It is a pretty sweet gig. (Yeah, that’s right, I can your anti-pun groans, but I’m writing it anyway.)
Anyway, turns out I am pretty good at selling cake. I can sell a cake to an anorexic, gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, pesca pescatarian.
Baking however seems to be another story entirely as last night I nearly set the house on fire trying to make a damn birthday cake. Turns out my oven is evil. It has these little holes at the bottom that lead to some deep oven abyss where the fire comes from. I managed to fill my cake pans a tiny bit too much. This resulted in a teeny overflow of cake batter. Now, normally that would just sit on the bottom of the oven and emit a lovely burning smell. Unfortunately last night the overflowed batter managed to work its was through the holes in the oven bottom and down into the depths of the fire breathing parts… thus the open flames that arose inside my oven.
I cannot express the horror of smelling a burny smell and then looking over my shoulder to see an aggressive orange glow coming from inside the oven. I pretty much suck in emergency situations, which is a known fact in my family as I generally just throw some bandaids in the general direction of the problem and run in the other direction.
Unfortunately raging flames do not respond well to this strategy.
So last night I found myself tossing baking soda willy-nilly towards the flames while trying not to inhale too much smoke. Eventually the flames died down and I was left with one fugly cake and whole lot of smoke in the kitchen.
I need to stick to selling cakes.