And I was just minding my own business... when the mother of all moths hit our ceiling and took a nose dive directly into my cleavage.
Lucky for me, no one has signed on to film my life story yet... so no cameras were present to capture what ensued next:
Husband did not move to protect me from the massive pterodactyl moth that was getting to second base with me.
Instead, he made himself super useful by just standing there... starring at me...
As I frantically ripped off my shirt .. and bra... and flailed my arms around like a maniac; hitting my body and clawing at my hair.
I was literally beating the crap out of myself trying to kill the gang of moths (actually just one really huge moth) that was assaulting me.
Husband was... you guessed it... still standing there silent as I was shrieking, hitting myself on the head....
"Mother... Shit! Is it in my hair?"
"Is it on my boobs?"
"Is it on me?! IS IT ON ME?!"
"What if it's pregnant?!"
I can't begin to comprehend why I thought this question was important at that moment, but if you have a Husband who is used to your shenanigans, then you can imagine exactly how my Husband looked at me...completely unimpressed.
My Husband was totally freaking unmoved by my topless moth flailing.
He didn't even ask if I was okay after that pervert moth assaulted me in my own house.
You know what he did do?
He shook his head... and closed the front door.
It is now officially up for debate if our neighbors think I am a fucking wack job... and/or if they saw my moth mating dance in our front hall.
|Totally unrelated picture of me and the dolls.|