You’re a Lying Pile of Shit

What exactly in the phrase “You’re a lying pile of shit” turns a man on?  Makes him wants to pork you in the kitchen, grope you in the den, or ball you in the hall?

Beats me.   

Sex Fiend: “You don’t load the dishwasher right.” 

Me: “Really.  It’s a frigging dishwasher.  You throw the dishes in, turn it on and go away for a while.”

Sex Fiend: “No, no, no.  The forks go in this slot, the spoons here. And you’re not rinsing the dishes off properly. Look, this one still has gunk on it. ” (guess his former profession)

Me: “Fine, you do it.”

IMG_1713
Sex Fiend’s elaborate assortment of timers.

Sex Fiend: “You’re overloading the washing machine!”

Me: “Really.  Then you do it.”

Sex Fiend: “Don’t you ever follow a recipe?”

Me: “Why?”

Sex Fiend: “You just dump everything in a pot without measuring and turn on the stove and you don’t time anything!  How do you know when it’s done?”

Me: “Duh, when it’s hot!”

Alas, it will be no mystery to y’all who cooks, does the dishes, the laundry, and sorts the garbage into three piles – compost, recycling and landfill – in my house.  Guess. 

And the answer is – drum roll please – he who gets turned on by the phrase “you’re a lying pile of shit.” 

I wish I felt some guilt for being such a bitch, but I don’t.

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