I am constantly dropping food on myself. I had already had to change my shirt twice because of it. The most recent wardrobe change was as I was making the supper we just sat down to eat.
It was then I noticed I had dropped sour cream right between my boobs. Frustrated, I muttered "This is a clean shirt"
The Guy didn't even look up from his plate when he said "Correction. It was a clean shirt."
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I have a bad habit of feeding the dog people food. The Guy is against it and gives me heck for it on a regular basis.
While I was chopping up veggies for our salad, I slipped Monty a couple of pieces: baby corn, celery, and cauliflower. He's a vegetable fiend and I feel terrible when I don't share. As long as Monty chews, we don't get caught.
Monty never chews.
Later in the day, I had forgotten all about the veggies. When The Guy came home, he came into the kitchen and immediately grabbed cleaning supplies from under the sink. Monty had thrown up by the front door when The Guy had come in the door.
Distracted, I asked if it was the bone Monty had been gnawing on most of the day. It was the answer I got that let me know I was busted.
Nope, baby corn. Want to tell me anything?
Oops.
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Crap monkies say "what?"