ATTACK!!!!

THE STORY:

Last Saturday morning as Husband’s sister was in town and the house was overrun with screaming children, we kindly decided tot ake the kids out to the zoo/park for the morning so the menfolk could watch Germany destroy Argentina in the World Cup.

Best women ever, right?

Since it was warm-ish that day, I threw on my favorite cooling outfit, this fab dress my own mom used to wear before I was a twinkle in her eye.  Only the coolest vintage ever, right?  But as I was leaving the house with the kids, Husband gave me the - “You’re not wearing that, are you?” line.

Say what??

“It’s not very flattering.”

To which I responded, “Who on earth am I trying to flatter at the park??”

I didn’t get good answer from him on that one.  But I was miffed.  He doesn’t like it because it was my mom’s, I’ll bet.  Grrrrr.  What’s so unflattering about this???

I know for a fact he owned a mumu at some point.

So after we came home and were preparing to leave for the church 4th activities, I asked him to tell me what to wear, since what I was wearing was soooo unflattering.  He had no input, so I threw this shirt on:

Heh.  He looked at me in disbelief and asked me if I was going to wear that - heck yes, I said.  What could be more patriotic??  I was going to do it too.  I was shuffling around the house gathering my things when he suddenly went into the fridge and pulled out the MUSTARD BOTTLE.  No, he’d never do that, you say.  He’s a grown man.  But I knew better, and I started running!! I tried to hide behind his sister, our kids, but in the end, he MUSTARD GASSED ME!!  Okay, just mustard-ed my shirt (AND the carpet, I might add), but that’s not the point.  He actually did that!!!  Assault with a deadly condiment!!!  I ended up having to change, but I bleached the shirt out.  I’m wearing it to church next week, I swear. 

Oh, you better believe we put the fun in dysfunctional.