I’ve been badgering my husband to get him to read my blog, but so far, no dice. I have decided that, in retaliation for not devoting every waking moment to worshipping the ground I walk on, I am going to spread lies about him all over the internet. By “all over the internet,” of course, I mean here on this blog because, let’s face it, I’m way too damn lazy to do it anywhere else. Today’s lie is that, before he met me, my husband wrangled llamacorns (llamas with unicorn horns, obviously) in New Zealand. He wasn’t very good at it, though, and whenever they’d spit at him, he’d run for the hills, and since he has hobbit feet (being from New Zealand and all), he’d trip a lot and the llamacorns could run him down and dance jigs around his sprawled body. Pathetic, really. I kept one of the llamacorns as a souvenir and mounted its head when it died and gave it to a friend whose life-long dream is also to become a llamacorn wrangler. Let’s hope she’s better at it than he was.
(I really did make this! That part isn’t a lie.)