After I wrote
this post on Monday about my childhood neurosis and ongoing phobia about the basement in my childhood home, my wife goes and posts this image to my Facebook page.
She thinks she's pretty funny. She got a good laugh out of it. Me? Not so much.
3 comments:
Slam the door shut. Probably throw something nearby in front of the door that won;t stop it from opening, but people do that any how. Run outside, find a tree, hide and when enough time passes check to see if there is any to save me from the mess in my pants.
ROFL. Thanks, Tim. That image is now firmly implanted. Of course, I'm not saying that I wouldn't react in a nearly-identical fashion. The only thing you forgot was screaming and gibbering like a little girl.
And I have three daughters; I've heard a lot of screaming and gibbering.
(Of course, my two sons have done a lot of screaming and gibbering, particularly when their sisters are getting revenge for something.)
Ruin a perfectly good pair of underwear.
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