Why Muscle Cars Beat Diamond Rings

If you haven’t already noticed, I’m not a normal gal.

In fact, I’ve been frequently called a man trapped in a (seriously hot, seriously female) body.  (Actually, the parenthetical part has never been spoken in my presence.  I was shaped like a ruler until a year ago when I started gaining weight.  Damn you, metabolism!)

This is why, when my then-fiance was talking about the purchase of an engagement present, I liked his first idea best: Engagement Muscle Car.

He had logical reasons for suggesting it (some of which are itemized below).  Of course, to me, logic was secondary to the noise a great muscle car made when driven (very quickly) under a bridge or down the highway.   Let’s be honest.  Muscle cars are hot.

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I’m Apparently #1 at Husband-Pantsing

So, I guess this is the best forum to air my addiction.

I have a pantsing problem.

Actual conversation with my (poor, poor) husband:

Husband: *in the kitchen, innocently surveying the contents of the pantry in his boxers*

Me:  [internally: Oooh…] *yanks boxers to Husband’s knees*

Husband:  *huffily pulling his boxers back up, glaring at me with disdain and faintly looking like he is a chubby kid who just got pantsed by the bully at the bus stop* WTF, Taylor.

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