Sunday, May 12, 2002

The Delicious One

The last time my husband had days off and came home from the area where we’ll be moving (he’s there already, we’re here waiting for school to get out), he suggested that we go to Weiner Sniffer for dinner.  At first, I was reluctant, because it’s not very healthy or filling and I’m trying to lose weight.  In fact, with Bekki’s guidance and a lot of help from Herbalife, I’m actually seeing a lot of progress.  Still, it’s rare that he’s insistent about where we go to eat, so eventually, I gave in.

Generally, we just let the kids order whatever they want when we go out to eat, so long as they’ll eat it.  We try to steer Sebastian away from the typical “kid’s meals” because he just doesn’t eat them.  We try to encourage Devon to order something besides hamburgers, (I mean, c’mon… gross!) and Jenica… well, geeze, so long as she has a nice tidy pile of food in front of her, she’s just happy to devour whatever we give her. 

This trip, Devon ordered a mustard dog on a pretzel bun in a kid’s meal.  The bag that the meal came in was hilarious.  On the front, it said something about “America’s Most Wanted Hot Dog” or something then the side had various cartoon characters representing the various components of the meal.  Fifi Fries, for example, was wanted for being all that and a bag of fried taters, or some such nonsense.  The best was this one, though:

What the hell??

Now, my husband is a police officer.  He’s pretty sensitive about keeping that private and he’s also sensitive about me posting his name on the Internet, especially since this is where I vent about the not-so-good stuff dealing with him and our relationship.  He knows what I talk about, and on occasion, even reads what I write.  He’s big enough to realize that it’s just my way of trying to sort through it all and deal, not me just talking smack.  In any case, a long time ago, he requested that I not use his name.  I was cool with that, so while I have slipped on occasion, I’ve tried to avoid it.  It’s hard, though, because I don’t really know what to call him.  “My husband?”  “My dear?”  “The Jerk?”  I mean… it all depends on the day, my mood, and what’s recently happened.  Heh. 

After spending awhile making fun of the wild animations and ridiculous wiener propaganda, TDO spent some time examining the bag and then suddenly blurted out, “I want to be The Delicious One.” 

“Umm?  What are you talking about, you freak?”  I replied incredulously.

“I want to be The Delicious One.”

I stared at him trying to figure out his angle on this for awhile.  “You’re not getting in my buns.  Nice try, you perv.”

“No,” he said with obvious exasperation, “On your website.  You never know what to call me.  I want to be The Delicious One from now on.  Even when you’re mad at me, you can’t deny how yummy I am.”

Um.  Ok.  We won’t even go there.  But his wish is my command. 

My beloved husband, I dub thee…

 

The Delicious One

Posted by Mommy at 03:50 AM

Twisted Humor • (3) CommentsPermalink