Friday, July 19, 2013

Day 217, July 19

I'm a peace-loving, mild-mannered, some might even say demure wife, mother, and grandmother.  Sometimes, though, something raises my ire.  In particular, that something is often my beloved.   You know who I mean--The Wretch.

The Wretch can be, at times, loving, generous, and kind.  At other times, he can be a pain in the patookus.  (That's ass for those who don't know the previous word.)  At these times, I want to shoot him where it hurts.

This may be why The Wretch doesn't want me to have a gun, even after I've asked repeatedly on those gift-giving occasions, such as birthdays and Christmas, for said gun.  It doesn't have to be a big or expensive.  Something small and business-like that I can tuck in a designer purse would be just fine.

The Wretch claims I wouldn't be responsible with a gun.  I beg to differ.  Sure, I'd be responsible.  I'd shoot only those persons who deserved shooting.  What could be more responsible than that?

Gem for the day:  This is for the husbands and significant others:  if you don't want to get shot by your wife, don't piss her off.

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