"Shit!" I barked after being woken by Dom breaking wind on my arm.
"Shit!" He repeated with glee.
"Bollocks, Dom that's a naughty word. We shouldn't have said that."
"Bolloxs!"
It could have gone on for a while.
We were supposed to be back from the tip having emptied the garage of its detritus and busy preparing tea for the women. They've been out at a kids party all afternoon.
I figured we could get some boy stuff done before our chores, so I hoovered out the car whilst Dom pretended to be a racing driver. We then watched the rugby for a bit. I obliged when Dom asked for some boyporn on the telly and settled us down with kettle chips and milk.
Twenty minutes ago we woke up.
Shit.
3 comments:
oh my goodness, what a perfect afternoon :)
ps
an old weirdo internet stalker type person is back on the prowl again so I locked down the journal for a bit.
Yeah - twas a proper Sunday afternoon.
A stalker eh? Nasty - hope it gets bored and wanders off soon.
My favorite part of my fortieth birthday was realizing Thunderbirds was on, after midnight, and I could watch it anyway. I approve of the boy porn.
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