Raise your hand if you thought this was going to be about Adam Lambert.
That was so last week.
I idolize my actual husband, yo.
Which brings me to the question I have been asked on more than one occasion, i.e., what Tom thinks about my polyamorous proclivities where polyamorous proclivities means Deb used the word polyamorous once in a comment and I looked it up and thought it was cool.
Let’s examine the facts. (I learned that “examine the facts” stuff in law school.)
Facts: I am a woman who blogospherically married another woman, became pregnant with twins from hearing a Led Zeppelin song performed by the next American Idol (heh, I worked that in again), writes tell-all posts about visits with her hot toe doctor, has a wicked crush on this guy, has a don’t ask/don’t tell crush on this guy, finds her relationship with her iPhone boyfriend oddly erotic, and is lured to the screen of her MacBook Pro lover like a perimenopausal woman to chocolate.
Question: What does Tom think of this?
Tom doesn’t read my blog, isn’t on Facebook, and doesn’t tweet so he can’t catch me. Tom reads my blog. And he loves me, Kate, and Adam Lambert (but not in a gay way).
I have evidentiary support for my opinion. (They taught me to do that “evidentiary support” stuff in law school.)
Tom got me a Mother’s Day gift that I really, really wanted. It is something totally flippin’ awesome. But I can’t tell anyone about because it was one of those impossible-to-get things that required Tom to pull strings and call in favors and
know the right people and obtain it covertly .
The best part?
Tom pulled strings and called in favors and
knew the right people and covertly obtained two of them because my wife wanted it, too. That’s right. Tom gave me and Kate matchy-matchy somethings that I can’t tell you about but it rhymes with fool bee dirts.
On Tuesday night after American Idol was over, I was texting the word VOTE to 5703. Repeatedly. What? Laura was getting ready for bed. VOTE. VOTE. Tom was making sure she flossed. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. Tom made sure she brushed. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. I may or may not have mentioned to Tom that I would be abandoning my texting duties to the father of my twins if I were to go sing to Laura before she went to sleep. Then I went to go sing to Laura, like I usually do. When I came out of Laura’s room, Tom was holding my iPhone boyfriend and texting VOTE to 5703. Repeatedly. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. VOTE. Oh, yes, he did.
I idolize my husband even more than I did before he obtained matching fool bee dirts for me and his wife-in-law, and repeatedly texted VOTE to 5703 to make Adam Lambert the next American Idol, which Adam will be, next week Wednesday night, right after I give birth to our twins and paint their tiny little fingernails with paraben-free black polish.
(Photos and clipart courtesy of Google Images.)