So this all started with a chicken. No, not my chickens, that in itself is another post. But to fully appreciate the conversation I had with my dear, dear husband, you have to know the entire story.
So the chicken. A few weeks ago one of my bloggy friends sent me a link to another blogger’s post. People, I have not laughed so hard, I was crying. CRYING hysterically laughing. I of course then shared this blog post with everyone I could. Including my good friend Linds. Linds had the same reaction, hysterical laughing. But before I continue, to understand the rest of my post you MUST go read this post, it is VITAL to you understanding. Warning, there is a smattering of mature language, so if you can’t handle it, just stop right here. Here is the post:
(Ok, did you read it? If not, here are the cliff notes: This blogger and her friend are going shopping and her husband’s comment to her is to not buy anymore towels. So instead, she buys a 5-foot metal chicken, that they name Beyoncé, and leaves it at her front door, rings the bell, and then runs and hides to watch his reaction. My cliff notes do not do it justice, go read the post.)
IT’S NOT TOWELS, HAHAHA!
Like 5 days later, a large box just shows up on my doorstep, containing this:
From my friend Linds, who apologized because she couldn’t find a 5-foot stuffed chicken on Amazon and thus had to settle for the giraffe.
She shipped a GIRAFFE to my house. Some of you may be like, “dude I’d be sooo pissed.” Whereas I am like “this is what friends are for!” And I have to understand because I shipped a 3-foot plastic penguin to her once…whole other story.
BUT the point of this post, is the conversation that ensued with my husband over naming our new friend:
Me: “I think his name is ‘Michael Jordan.'” (Yes, he’s a boy-giraffe I’ve decided.)
Jacob: “umm, why?”
Me: “Well we can’t name it ‘Penelope Nutmeg’ because that’s the name for my future pony.”
Jacob: *~blinks~*, blank stare
Then I took pity on my dear husband and drew him a verbal word-picture and said:
Me: “Michael Jordan is VERY tall…”
Jacob: Blank stare (again!)
Me: “Giraffes are VERY tall…”
Poor poor husband. At this point he just sort of shook his head and walked away, and thus, a giraffe was named. I, of course, immediately called Linds to share with her this conversational gem and when I got to the part about “Penelope Nutmeg” she was like “of course.” Like it was a foregone conclusion and why did I just waste my breath explaining this to her. “This is why we’re friends.” I told her.
Here’s Stella and Michael Jordan, with my husband whose entire body is exuding just how much he does not want to be in this picture:
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