You Lie Down With Dogs, You Wake Up With FleasIn my neck of the woods, it's no secret that I'm in love with Stephen Colbert. It is, of course, an unrequited love, but enjoyable nonetheless.
My kids don't understand the attraction, as he is too "nerdy" and "old" for their tastes, and my husband, ever the stoic Stonehenge head, basically just ignores my squeals of "Ooooh, my boyfriend's on, my BOYFRIEND'S ON!"
(He makes up words, people. SEXXXY!)
It's only when I begin slobbering the television screen with my passionate kisses that Lar bothers to say or do something about my obsession. I just wish he'd remove his shoes before putting his foot up my ass.
I had an incredibly hot dream involving my darling boo last night, and though I'd like nothing more than to divulge the naughty details, I shan't. For reasons that only my ass can explain.
One part of the dream was very telling, however, the part where I was frolicking with Stephen's dog (I don't even know if he has a dog, mind you), and I spotted a multitude of fleas hopping on the dog's head. I said to my dear loverboy, "Mr. Colbert, there appears to be fleas hopping on your dog's head."
Mr. Colbert's right ear wiggled a bit, then he crossed his stiffly-attired arms before his magnificently stuffy chest, and said to me this:
"You lie down with dogs, missy, you wake up with fleas."
Paging Carl Jung!
In other fascinating news, Dan, Dan the Dancing Man is through to the next round! Yay!