So I'm lying on the couch watching the Sox-Yanks game, and I hear my wife howling from upstairs "Help! Aiyahh!"
"What's the matter?" I shout up the stairs.
"He's attacking me while I'm on the toilet!" Mrs. Dynamite squeaks back, while trying to fend off the attacker:
"What's the matter?" I shout up the stairs.
"He's attacking me while I'm on the toilet!" Mrs. Dynamite squeaks back, while trying to fend off the attacker:
Yep. Oscar. The little guy has learned to identify optimal attacking times: like when his target is on the toilet, and thus less capable of defense... He got me with the same move this afternoon - it's harder than you think to defend yourself from a crazed Oscar using one arm, while you try to wipe your ass with the other...
This is my life...
-KD
3 comments:
Bathroom time is me alone time. I think Popeye said that.
Anyhow, I'm not even sure I could drop a bomb in the bathroom with a fishtank in it. The fish would be staring at me. Those sneaky fish bastards...
Your wife needs to learn the art of the backhand... Used by pimps and dog handlers the world over.
You need a poo Trebuche'.
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