So you can read the PG story of My Betty over at Props and Pans.
However in a less PG version of the story. Here is what happened.
So I'm all Betty'ed up, sitting around with my, ahem, Hoohah exposed and all gooped up with bleach. Using a towel to protect my once cool purple couch, I sat there - all gooped up and waiting.
Tick tock. Tick Tock.
My husband, in an effort to exert some politeness opens the sliding glass door to go outside to smoke. And when he opens the door a hideous moth flew in(or a really small moth about to become hideious), bopped around - and then dove STRAIGHT INTO MY CROTCH.
Where it got mired in the Betty Step One Goo.
Mired to such an extent, that when I flicked it out in horror and shock, I didn't get all of it. And my husband had to come dig the rest of it out of the goo.
Ah - married life.
However in a less PG version of the story. Here is what happened.
So I'm all Betty'ed up, sitting around with my, ahem, Hoohah exposed and all gooped up with bleach. Using a towel to protect my once cool purple couch, I sat there - all gooped up and waiting.
Tick tock. Tick Tock.
My husband, in an effort to exert some politeness opens the sliding glass door to go outside to smoke. And when he opens the door a hideous moth flew in(or a really small moth about to become hideious), bopped around - and then dove STRAIGHT INTO MY CROTCH.
Where it got mired in the Betty Step One Goo.
Mired to such an extent, that when I flicked it out in horror and shock, I didn't get all of it. And my husband had to come dig the rest of it out of the goo.
Ah - married life.
1 comments:
All I could think of is "What a way to go..."
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