Yesterday, my husband said he needed help with dinner. Of course I rushed down right away… after I took a shower and read some emails. Because I’m helpful like that. Ha!
I went downstairs into the kitchen and the first thing my husband said was to look into a boiling pot that was on the stove.
If it’s a boiled bunny in there, I’ll be wicked pissed, yo!
I had absolutely NO IDEA what to expect. None… nada, no clue.
I slowly opened up the lid. That’s when I saw an antennae… IN. THE. POT. It said, hey you, I’m coming to getcha!
I screamed like mad and ran the hell out of there. The hubby was loving it. Butthead.
When he took them out of the pot and let them cool down, he took the heads of the lobstahs and did some lobstah commentary.
“Hello, there. I’m delicious and I’m gonna get you!”
When he took the meat out
that’s what she said, he strategically placed the lobstahs into the trash so the antennae would stick out… yeah, just to fuck with me.
Well played, my man, well played.
The lobstah was amazing and since I’m a food moaner, I pulled a When Harry Met Sally, that I’m sure the whole neighborhood could hear.
My husband considers this our induction to being true New Englanders.
Also, that damn lobstah is still in the trash can with its antennae sticking out.
* I let the hummingbird pick the song.