Food for Thought

My husband, whom I refer to here in the blogging world as Himself, claims we women are something of an enigma. At first, I thought he meant enema…like, pain in the ass. But no, he meant enigma. Apparently, for the male of the species, we chicks are simply far too hard for them to figure out. When I tried to get Himself to elaborate, I got the standard male fare of ‘Well, you know…’. Actually, I don’t, because I think I’m fairly simple to read. You’ve only to look at my face to gauge whether I’m fairly impressed by something or someone or am thinking ‘You, out of the gene pool’. Give me a good hockey game, preferably the Red Wings minus that damn Jimmy Howard who can’t keep a puck outta the net to save his soul, and I’m happy.  It’s really not that hard, guys!

Or, so I thought.

As I was unpacking the groceries last night (don’t you just love how they pack the dishwashing liquid, the bug spray and the raw meat all in the same bag…yep, me neither), I came across this little gem.

007

Nothing says enigma like Lean Cuisine and cheesecake.

Maybe the man’s got a point.

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