The Lord of the Rings. All of them. Movies, books, you name it. (Well to some people anyway—It’s okay I’m not naming names--you know who you are. * snort *)
The ability to sleep in on a rainy morning. (meaning not crawling out of bed until after 10:00 a.m. okay?)
Fresh Brewed Starbucks coffee
Music that moves your soul
The Phantom of the Opera Soundtrack
Metallica’s “Black” album
A pair of killer Black Pumps
Your Mother’s pearls
And last but not least Chocolate.
Never. Shall I repeat this again? Never ever eat your wife or Mother’s chocolate bar. This is grounds for serious discussion. I mean like serious take away your remote control, no more eating in the den, no more feet on the coffee table, and if you don’t go buy me another chocolate bar my head is going to split wide open and Godzilla’s baby is going to pop out discussion. Get it? This is serious shit we’re talking here.
Tonight. Yes. This evening as I am winding down I went to the frig (icebox whatever you’d like to call it) to find the candy bar that I had hidden from the rest of the family. (It has to be hidden or it will not last okay? They've already had their chocolate so don't go feeling sorry for them)
Imagine my dismay when it wasn’t there?
Panic hit. Utter and complete panic. My knees started knocking, my eyes fluttered and watered so badly I couldn’t see. My hand trembled and my blood pressure soared so high I thought I was going to start whistling like my mothers old brass tea kettle. (It made an awful sound by the way)
Enhancing my calm, I straightened my shoulders and walked into the family room where the other two humans that occupy this house were happily watching television as if they didn’t realize their entire world was about to come to an end. I asked, very politely I might add…”Who ate my Lindt chocolate bar that was in the frig?”
They turned into mutes. They gave me that ‘What are you talking about? Are you hallucinating again look?’
I didn’t buy it. They did this to me. I’d been saving those last few pieces of chocolate for Sunday night. My night. My one night to cheat.
Robbed.
I had been utterly and completely robbed of my chocolate. Considering laying down on the floor and kicking my feet and arms about like I’d lost mind wasn’t an option, I assumed the look.
You women know the look I’m talking about. The look that says your life is going to turn into a living hell if someone doesn’t come up with some chocolate within the next two minutes.
These two curious humans react. Both of the them scramble up from their reclining positions saying at the same time. “We’ll go get you another one.”
Disaster averted.
I am now a happy camper even if I did have to put up with a Snickers Bar instead of my beloved Lindt Hazelnut Milk chocolate bar.
Word to the wise people.
Don’t mess with Mom’s chocolate.
The ability to sleep in on a rainy morning. (meaning not crawling out of bed until after 10:00 a.m. okay?)
Fresh Brewed Starbucks coffee
Music that moves your soul
The Phantom of the Opera Soundtrack
Metallica’s “Black” album
A pair of killer Black Pumps
Your Mother’s pearls
And last but not least Chocolate.
Never. Shall I repeat this again? Never ever eat your wife or Mother’s chocolate bar. This is grounds for serious discussion. I mean like serious take away your remote control, no more eating in the den, no more feet on the coffee table, and if you don’t go buy me another chocolate bar my head is going to split wide open and Godzilla’s baby is going to pop out discussion. Get it? This is serious shit we’re talking here.
Tonight. Yes. This evening as I am winding down I went to the frig (icebox whatever you’d like to call it) to find the candy bar that I had hidden from the rest of the family. (It has to be hidden or it will not last okay? They've already had their chocolate so don't go feeling sorry for them)
Imagine my dismay when it wasn’t there?
Panic hit. Utter and complete panic. My knees started knocking, my eyes fluttered and watered so badly I couldn’t see. My hand trembled and my blood pressure soared so high I thought I was going to start whistling like my mothers old brass tea kettle. (It made an awful sound by the way)
Enhancing my calm, I straightened my shoulders and walked into the family room where the other two humans that occupy this house were happily watching television as if they didn’t realize their entire world was about to come to an end. I asked, very politely I might add…”Who ate my Lindt chocolate bar that was in the frig?”
They turned into mutes. They gave me that ‘What are you talking about? Are you hallucinating again look?’
I didn’t buy it. They did this to me. I’d been saving those last few pieces of chocolate for Sunday night. My night. My one night to cheat.
Robbed.
I had been utterly and completely robbed of my chocolate. Considering laying down on the floor and kicking my feet and arms about like I’d lost mind wasn’t an option, I assumed the look.
You women know the look I’m talking about. The look that says your life is going to turn into a living hell if someone doesn’t come up with some chocolate within the next two minutes.
These two curious humans react. Both of the them scramble up from their reclining positions saying at the same time. “We’ll go get you another one.”
Disaster averted.
I am now a happy camper even if I did have to put up with a Snickers Bar instead of my beloved Lindt Hazelnut Milk chocolate bar.
Word to the wise people.
Don’t mess with Mom’s chocolate.
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