Somebody needs a little QT and I'm just the girl to give it to him

My husband was out of town last night and got home an hour ago. He's been wandering around the bedroom checking email on his Blackberry, firing up his laptop and trying to make conversation with me about the the last 36 hours of my life that he missed. I was busy trying to clean out my feed reader and ensure that I've read every last bit of trashy celebrity gossip on the internet before I go to bed. As an example, I just finished reading about Courtney Love's insane Facebook rant against Edward Norton who I must confess I've always considered sort of smart guy hot. You know, no where near as hot as Brad Pitt but twelve times smarter and more interesting so that sort of makes up for the "no where near as hot thing." Similarly, guys that can make you laugh hysterically don't need to be as hot either.

Anyway, my husband kept making chit chat the whole time. Mostly he wanted to know what I'd been doing but he did also express some horror when I scrolled past this insane photo of some dude in his underwear. I'm all, Um. I got off early, picked up the kids, had dinner, you know. And he's all, What else? And I'm all, What do you mean? And he's all, What else did you guys do? And I'm all, Nothing. And he's all, I'm trying to talk to you and you're distracted. And I'm all, Pretend I'm watching Monday Night Football.

And then he wandered off again. Don't worry. He found some excruciatingly loud pig call videos on YouTube and he's been passing the time watching them a foot away from me. Iin case they weren't loud enough to wake everyone in a three mile radius, he pulled some bird call thingamajig out of his bag and started making bird calls at our three dogs. It's a good thing I'm done surfing the net and ready to resume by ritualistic stalking of him. Because dude is clearly trying to get my attention.

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