Ummm…Can You Spell That, Please?


My husband (a.k.a. “GOD”) has a special gift for calling me at the very moment I become unavailable to talk.  Morning, noon, night…doesn’t matter.  It’s like he has e.s.i.p. (Extra Sensory Inconvenience Perception).

This afternoon, he called at the precise moment I went into the bathroom.  My daughter answered my phone and told him as much, pointing out his special gift.  He said, “Please tell her that GOD would like a call back.”  She did and the conversation that followed went something like this:

:ring ring:

Husband (in booming voice): “This is GOD speaking, how many I assist you?”

Me (in tiny, mousy voice): “Hello, GOD?  I have this husband and I don’t think he really understands me….”

Husband: “I think your husband understands you just fine!  I think you’re a minority to your husband…who is GOD!  Why, you should be KNEELING AT HIS FEET –“

Me (interrupting in sarcastic voice): “That’s “subservient”, dipshit!”

Husband: “Sub-ser…DO NOT CALL GOD A DIPSHIT!”

I couldn’t breathe for 20 minutes.

If anyone wants him, he’s free to a good home.

Yep. All the time.


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