It was up to me to make dinner tonight. I decided to make tortellinis with mushrooms and parsely. But I needed ingredients so I walked through to the kitchen and saw my husband standing next to the stove wearing NOTHING but an APRON. And socks....with his Birks.
Mildly erotic? Um, yeah...so?
I'm like: "Dude!!! Daddyo what the frikk? Why are you wearing that nasty stripey apron my dad gave you a million years ago and not much else?
And your nipples are showing btw." I admit it was kinda hot.
He said: "I'm making chutney and the tamarind sprayed all over my t-shirt. So I had to take it off. You wanna go upstairs...?
I take in the fact that I can see that all his freckles are showing and there`s hungry mouths screaming for grub around us.
"Um no, thanks, but I'm going to the shop to get our dinner. You wanna come with?"
He says "Okay" and grabs his coat. And puts in on top of his apron-and-nothing-else.
I say, "Dude, if you come to the shops wearing that apron-and-nothing-else I'm going to have to tweet about it."
And he said, "No one ever wrote about the guy who didn't piss in the bucket."
Folks, I married him and I do love him. Oh look, he's just brought me a glass of port! How nice.