Diverting Attention

I’ve been busy with my new boyfriend Dane. Too busy laughing my ass off to think of something creative to write. Stuff like this has been keeping me occupied:

(Strong language, NSFW)

For the other’s not interested in Dane Cook, a post from the archives:

Queen of Diversion

originally posted April 11, 2007

Mornings in our house prove to be a challenge. As I hate getting up, and dear hubs is an early riser we constantly bicker over the fact that I am a notorious snoozer. The snooze button is my dealer; I am addicted. One any given day, I will hit snooze three times. THREE. TIMES. This drives Mike to the brink of insanity since the first one wakes him then he’s up for the day; not to mention the fact I have it set for about a half hour before I have to get up.

Since he’s on course for work until mid-May he’s actually getting up at the same time as me, (instead of being out the door while I pound away on my snooze button), which definitely is a cause for more conflict in the mornings. For the past week we’ve been feuding over my addiction which as left me to one (sometimes two) hits of the button.
Today I was so sure I would try to get up at the first sound of the annoying – beeeeep, beeeeep, beeeeep, just to appease my ever-loving husband.

I didn’t succeed.

After the first one, I tried so hard to get the next one before he stirred. As it went off I started hitting the headboard trying to turn off the alarm, to my dismay the damn thing wasn’t turning off, at that point I realized: Dumbass, you’re hitting the headboard. The clocks over there.

I got up and headed for a shower. Mike soon to follow. Bitter. Bitter as all hell. Like he’s been everyday for the past week.

I will say, it’s been nice that we can have a shower together in the mornings again though (with no interruptions). Today, may have been a different story.

I sluggishly climbed into the shower while Mike was cursing me from his perch (on the can). Why can’t I just get up like a normal person? This fuckin’ snooze button has to stop. I’m going to take away your alarm clock. Blah, blah, blah-fuckity-blah.

While he went on and on I persuaded myself to make an effort at some foreplay, this would all go away (for the time being) if I just did something – anything, to redirect his attention for the snooze button to …. his penis.
He joined me in the shower, still chattering on and on about the fucking snooze button, so I made my move. I slowly reached down and touched it. Touched. It. He looked at me – and. stopped. talking. HE STOPPED!! So I continued a bit, but (faster then I thought he would) he clued into my intentions and turned to get past me; a bit flustered he started to bring up the alarm clock. Again.

Then it happened.

He stepped on the edge of the shower curtain and fell, bringing down the entire shower curtain rod with him.

There I stood, stark naked, water trickling everywhere as he was bent over, ass in the air, bracing himself against the side of the tub, the shower curtain, in a bunged up mess on the bathroom floor.

My initial reaction was to point and laugh, but I held it together long enough to ensure that he wasn’t hurt and to get the curtain rod in it’s rightful place. Then I bust a gut laughing. Oh, did I laugh! Thankfully, he thought it was pretty fuckin’ hilarious too. Though a little off target, I completed my mission.

The morning conversation was not that of my inability to get my ass out of bed anymore.

But that I tried to kill him in the shower by pushing him out of my way.

Sweet success.

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Tagged as: dane cook, Manchild, marriage