He’d be like, “We ate an hour ago. It’s time to eat again. Where are the candied nuts?”
I’d be like, “Jesus, your pants are starting to look a little tight around the hips.”
“Shh,” he’d say. “We’ll talk about it after New Year’s. I’m going to buy a gym membership on the 2nd after I’m done purging.”
I’d put my eggnog down and hoist myself up from the couch long enough to see Jesus sneaking more molasses cookies in the kitchen. “But Jesus,” I’d say, “you are going to fall into a sugar coma.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he’d say. “Give me some more of your honey baked ham.”
I *love* you. Even more than I love Jesus.
Well, as it turns out, there is now more of me to love.
PS I love you too!
i just baked 10 dozen chocolate chip cookies to deal with the surfeit of butter, sugar, eggs, and chips. send yer ass on over.
why would you make fun of him like that?
Seriously?