I am all wrapped in blankets on a gray afternoon with a buncha Chihuahuas, a diva cat, and one ba-rat-teee little Femme. Huge brown eyes, pouty lips… you know how she do. I am feelin’ lucky, trying real hard to charm my grrl with some kinda sweet Daddy wayz. She twirls her hair and out of nowhere says, “Hmph. You never made me LASAGNE.” It sounded like that “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore” song, and I take offense to such an accusation!
I say, “BABY! One time I made you a 400 pound pan of mushroom lasagne with a white asiago cream sauce, and you said it SUCKED cuz it had vegetables in it!”
Now as she is watching tv in the other room, she hollered to let me know that IF Selma Hayek ever calls, she is leaving me. Do you think Selma Hayek would ever make her white lasagne? With an iced diet Dr. Pepper to cleanse her palette?
Maybe, but I frikken DOUBT it!!!
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