Hips Don't Lie

Day Three Of We Are Stuck In The House Blizzard Update.

Jeff is currently out shoveling all three feet (!) of snow. Or he is building himself a snow cave within which to hide as an escape from our three continual days of forced togetherness in our small house. It's unclear.

Late last night, we ran out of wine. This was a problem. Once the two-day Pinot buzz faded, we realized that neither of us had showered since Friday. And we were both still wearing two-day old Dorito-crumb covered sweatpants and wife-beaters.

To distract from our poor hygiene, we played Monopoly. My son cheats, he justifies his behavior because he loves having money. Like gleeful gloating about the fact that people give him the money. He cannot get enough of it. I tried to explain just because you WANT the money, you cannot break all the rules to get it, even if the end result of breaking all the rules is having more money. He looked at me blankly. I think we have a future politician on our hands.

There was a discussion about iPod selection. I asked J whether he would rather Shakira or Carrie Underwood. He picked Carrie. That is not the right answer! I pointed out that Shakira has that latin hotness thing about her, her hips don't lie, Carrie does not even have hips AND would take you out with a Louisville Slugger! Don't you see?! After consideration of that important fact, he changed it to Taylor Swift, which is creepy because she is nine-years-old. I said I did not want Jeff to be that skeevy dad. You know - That Dad - the one that will check out our teenage son's friends and ask them questions about cheerleading practice.

To lighten things up, I changed the subject. It was important that I know if we crashed in the Andes and had to eat each other for survival, which body part Jeff would want me to eat first. Of course, I would be the survivor, due to my snow diet of Doritos and Oreos, I am currently at 95% body fat and a BMI of 82. I would bounce on impact and then be well-insulated from the climate. I said I was sorry for him and then generously told him to pick the part I would have to eat. Calf? Ear Lobe? Lower back? He refused to answer, which proves to me that he does not actually love me and does love Carrie Underwood. He would give Carrie an earlobe, I bet.

Back to Carrie ... I made him promise that should the opportunity present itself, he would pick Shakira. I told him that was very important to me. He agreed. I plan to hold him to that. I think I hear Jeff now. It sounds like he is on the phone with some plow company. Something about "I will pay you triple to make an emergency stop ... ?"