"Nah....I just want to hear you going "ow! ow! ow!" as the bacon grease spatters onto tender, sensitive areas."
Let's see, were you one of the ones who were complaining about some men having hostility toward American women?
Anyway, you can put that fantasy away. I'm a phenomenal cook, and I don't splatter. When cooked properly, at the proper temperature, bacon doesn't explode.
I'd love to hang out a little longer and tweak you. For some impish reason, I love to bedevil the humorless.
But alas, it's getting late-ish and laughter among the well-adjusted calls.
Good night, all!
I bet your wife loves that.
I'm single, came close to getting married in my mid-twenties, but it 'didn't work out.'
Anyway, my Father used to jokingly tell my beau that if he married me, he would starve! He then went on to amend what he'd said by proudly annoucing that I had won the Betty Crocker award in 1974, always murmurring something beneath his twinkling eyes and under his breath akin to 'is it possible it could have been rigged?' All in Italian broken English, mind you.
God bless you, dsc, and your wife and kids. By the way is your baby closing in on her first birthday yet?