However, we were subjected to a few classes that I could have done without. Financial planning, for one. Although I do well with my money, I have a hard time getting interested in what to do with it besides save and spend. I've been known to collapse in boredom at the mere mention of a 401k. So, while taking notes at this particular meeting, my dear husband notices I'm staring off into space.
"This must be killing you," he whispers. I opt to write out my response.
He takes up his own pen to reply:
He knows me so well.
And finds me funny, too. THANK GOODNESS.
Then the presenter starts calling on people to give answers about not only 401ks, but TSPs, MLACs and OMGWTHLOLBBQs.
Sweet husband just decides to put me out of my misery with a missile.
Not ready for that sweet release just yet, I draw myself with anti-missile dynamite. A sure defense!
Just so I know he means business, he adds another swoop to the missile's trajectory. THIS MEANS WAR.
I make the missile into a surfboard instead, complete with Stitch (from Lilo and Stitch...guess what my kid's been watching nonstop for two weeks?) saying something rather rude, were one to understand Stitchese.
Of course, surfing Stitches mean sharks, and lo and behold Jaws is upon us.
But wait! Richard Dreyfuss and Roy Schnieder are back with a bigger boat!
But they're no match for husband's answer to everything: MORE MISSILES! Watch out for Red October!
BUT WAIT! Red October is no match for SWEET NOVEMBER! The crappy movie that bored everyone to death! (sorry if you liked it! It's pretty WMOATy!)
BUT if we've sunk so low as to drop movie bombs, we must go one lower. Husband lands the great and mighty W-Bomb: THE WICKERMAN. Thus the game is over, everyone has croaked (or been punched by Nicholas Cage), and FINALLY...
...the financial planning class is OVER.
Sheesh, how do those people who collaborate on a book (or anything else creative for that matter) DO it? Everything we attempt to make together devolves into missiles and Nick Cage movies.
I BEG TO DIFFER, MOM.